As I pulled into the the Kwik Star I noticed two other bikes leaning against the building, but I don't recall seeing the riders as I entered. I grabbed a basket and aimlessly wandered the aisles of the truck stop for quite a while. I really wanted a bottle of Muscle Milk, but couldn't find any, so I settled for chocolate milk, two donuts, beef jerky, and a warm sausage and cheese sandwich. I found a spot in the dark of the trucker's lounge, and sat down at a table with Charles and Chris refuel. I finished the first round of food off and was still feeling hungry, and I was starting to get chilled. I wandered around a bit more and, being chilled, I grabbed a can of Coke and another bottle of chocolate milk and went to the counter to pay. I must have looked horrible, as the overnight clerk, who was really chipper, asked me if I wanted a cup of coffee. It didn't sound good, so I turned him down. Sleep deprivation causes you to do stupid things sometimes. I sat back down in the lounge and made a quick FB post about my position while finishing chocolate milk and Coke off. We spent about 45 minutes at the truck stop before the call to leave was announced. I quickly filled my bottles, dropped some Nuun tablets in, and followed the group out the door sometime around 5:00 AM.
We headed east for a mile, looking at the morning twilight and then dropped south into a valley for what seemed like a long time. The cold, damp air that settled in the valley really made me want to finish soon. Finally, we turned west, and Mark's route continued to pound at our legs with more loose gravel and a miles of constant rolling hills. Around mile 304, we came off of a jog and on to a flat straight section of road. It was covered in big, chunky gravel, with the "smooth line" barely discernable from the rest of the road. Jay Barre led us onto the rock. As the smooth line Jay was following ended, I jumped to the opposite side and pushed the pace a bit. It was easier for me to ride at speed and let the bike bounce a bit. I slid even further into the dirt at the edge as Paul Errington and Jay dropped in behind. We rode like this for just over a mile until we hit a stop sign at the intersection with a paved road. We were out of breath, but the last mile of our own little "Paris Roubaix" helped wake up our heads and legs a bit. I recall our group starting to break up a bit around this point of the race. Tim Ek had told us he was going to cruise in because his knee wasn't feeling good. Mike, Ben and Chris were content to hold the pace we had been riding the entire night. With the finish feeling close and the sun warming us up, Charles, Jay, both Paul's and I were slowly picking up the pace the further we rode along.
We hit a small section of B road around mile 306, rode through it, and then an energetic Tim Ek passed Charles and I while we stopped for a bio break. He settled in with Jay and "the Pauls" as Charles and I rejoined them. Tim had made some seat post adjustments after he had dropped back and his knee wasn't bothering him any more. The pace picked up a bit more and then we turned north onto a set of rollers and things really started heating up. Tim passed me on the first uphill and for some reason my legs woke up a bit, and I decided to jump on his wheel. We cruised on the downhill together and he passed me on the next uphill. I got onto his wheel again and this time I decided to drive the pace on the downhill until I had built a bit of a gap between the two of us. I looked down at my cue sheets and realized we still had a ways to go, so I backed off to get my heart rate down and give my legs a rest. Not too long after this, I hear a bike behind me and turn to see Charles Parsons. He flashed a smile and said "I couldn't let my good friend Dog Chow just ride off", then rode ahead. I wouldn't see Charles again until the end of the race. Tim pulled up next to me as we were getting closer to town, and I told him I hoped he was done riding hard, as I was feeling pretty spent. He glanced over, picked up the pace a bit more, and then rode off ahead of me. I still felt pretty good, and I wanted to finish strong, so, knowing that there were just a few miles left, I picked up the pace a bit more as I crossed under I-80. I could almost smell the finish now, and my body and legs responded with just a bit more power. I turned the corner and headed west towards the finish. As I looked up I saw Tim just 3/4 of a mile ahead of me. The pressure on the hills over the last few miles had kind of blown the "overnighters finish together" mantra that I assumed was an unspoken rule, and I thought about sitting up at this point. But, knowing what Tim had accomplished as a rider over the the years, it was a big deal to me to finish with or ahead of him to set a personal benchmark. With that in mind, I rolled forward on to my aero bars and picked up the pace. It took a mile or two, but I caught up with Tim, kept rolling past and took a left turn onto the B road and into the home stretch. I got out of the saddle and sprinted, then sat and sprinted one more time, turning down a small driveway, expecting to see the barn at any minute. Instead, I found myself in a private driveway. I turned around a couple of times and rode back out, looking for the turn to the barn I must have missed. I turned back around and rode to the end of the driveway again, and as I was circled once more to go out, Tim pulled up. I'm not sure if he had followed me, or if had made the same mistake that I did, and turned down the wrong road. Karma always comes around, and I was paying for not finishing with the group. Tim and I talked on our way back to the finish, and he suggested that I go in first. A big thanks to him for allowing me to do so.
I rolled down the final hill towards the finish, turned into the driveway, sprinted towards, and past Mark and the small crowd of people gathered around the finish area, skidded to a stop and let my bike drop I was finally done. I had finished 323.3 miles of TransIowa V9 in just over 28.5 hours - far faster than I had ever imagined finishing. I got a bit lost with all of the people gathering to congratulate me, but the best thing was turning around and seeing that my wife Kathy had made it to the finish and was there to give me a hug and congratulate me. She had been completely supportive of my training and weird schedule over the last 4 months, so it was absolutely perfect to share the moment with her.
Lots of things happend in quick succession. I gave Mark a long hug, partly out of exhaustion, but partly because it was the only way I could say thank you to him without breaking down in tears. Photos ensued. Kyle Sedore handed me a bomber of cold tasty Double IPA. I took a huge swig. It was ice cold and so satisfying. Rob Versteegh and Kyle were both handing me dry clothes and food. Julie Goodman scrubbed my dog bite out with Everclear, and bandaged it. Sarah Russell held me up after the bomber and exhaustion got to me. I honestly felt like Cancellara at the end of Paris Roubaix - Through the crucible, out the other side intact, and into the hands and arms of an incredible support crew to make sure I looked good on the podium, or in this case, a log by the fire. Having everyone there at the end meant a lot to me, and I want to thank each and every one of the people that I mentioned for making my finish just that much more special.
This is pretty much the end of my race recap (Gee, only 4 long posts?) If you've made it through this far, congratulations. :) I'll have one final post coming with some miscellaneous thoughts, and some discussion about my bike and setup for those that are curious.
Sunday, May 12, 2013
TIV9 Race Recap - Light and darkness.
I left CP2 with just half bottle of water, and 10 miles to the next convenience store. I dropped in behind Jana Vavra and (I believe) Paul Chapman. I tried keeping pace with them, but I was still in survival mode, so I ended up about 10 - 12 bike lengths behind them all the way into Gladbrook. After 50 minutes and a bit of pavement through town, I pulled into a Casey's parking lot and found a number of other riders sitting there refueling. This was the last convenience store for nearly 100 miles and everyone was taking time to fuel their bodies as well as stock up for the next leg. It also appeared that a number of the overnight groups were being worked out while people ate and rested. I parked my bike on the west side of the building, said hi to a few people and stumbled into the store to get some food and drink. Mark hadn't warned the store that there might be a group coming in, and the staff appeared a bit flustered with the sudden rush of traffic. Cornbread spied my leg and suggested that I should clean the wound out while I was there. It didn't really hurt, so I politely shrugged off his suggestion. After two more mentions of the need to clean the wound up, I finally gave in. He grabbed a bottle of hydrogen peroxide from the shelf and got in line behind me. I grabbed the bottle from him, paid the cashier, and pulled up a slice of curb outside so I could eat and clean up.
As I ate, more riders showed up and I struggled figuring out why I had to arrived ahead of this many people. Many of them were people I considered favorites to win, some of them with multiple TI finishes under their belts. Cornbread and one of the other people from Lincoln cleaned my leg off, for which I was very grateful. The H202 had a bit of a sting and foamed a lot, but it was good to know that we were taking a swipe at the germs sooner rather than later. Riders continued to come in to the parking lot, some, like Jim Cummins, looking completely spent. I hoped that they were able to rest, recover, and finish the race. While I ate and talked, I noticed a number of the favorites getting their stuff together and leave. I used that as my cue to get going, and quickly grabbed a can of coke for the road, packed my stuff up and headed out. As my friend and TI finisher Paul Jacobson said, "Get back on the bike." I'd spent just over an hour recovering and felt loads better as I headed north out of town. As I rode down the pavement I could see a good sized group of riders forming in the hills ahead of me. I really wanted to catch them, but I wanted to take a cautious approach to how much energy I used to bridge up to them. I rode at a steady pace, slowly closing the gap between me and the group. Near mile 195, I pulled in behind them as they slowed to change cue sheets. I quickly took stock of who was here. First, was Charles Parsons, Tim Ek, Mike Johnson and Jay Barre. All of them had finished on one or more occasions, and were well poised to finish again. Next, Paul Errington and Ben Oney. Both super strong riders with lots of ultra-distance experience. Paul had finished the Dirty Kanza 200 last summer, and Ben had finished 13th in the 2011 Tour Divide. Both brought more firepower to the group. Finally, Chris Wells and Paul Carpenter. I had not met either of them before today, but if they had made it this far, then they had to be strong, and feeling pretty good. After about 30 seconds, I felt that all of these riders were likely to finish, so I decided to sit in with them for the rest of the race.
Spirits in the group were high, considering that we were not even two-thirds of the way through the race. The sunset and susequent twilight were gorgeous and there was a lot of talking and joking going on when the roads were good. On the hills and loose rock, things quieted down and it became obvious that TCoB was the order of the day at those points. Jay was doing a bang up job as navigator and Charles was moving around in the group, talking to people and keeping things organized. Being the "FNG" of this group, I made sure I took long pulls at the front and tried not to do anything to jeopardize being allowed to stay in the group. I was still not sure how I had arrived in a position to ride with this particular group overnight, and I was waiting for the proverbial hammer to fall on my personal race at any time. The next few hours were routine. We pedaled, and we stopped every hour or so for food or a bio break, as long as the majority of the group needed to do so. There were times where we didn't stop if only one person needed to stop. I was having issues holding my line as twilight turned to dark. It was obvious I was starting to get fatigued. At one point, I started getting whiny and negative about the road conditions, and Charles Parsons dropped back from the front of the group, quietly told me "Say nothing but positive words from here on out." and then proceeded to ride back up front. I took the kindly worded hint and kept quiet, unless spoken to for quite a while. During the night, the talk died down other than the announcement of milestones ("only 100 miles left") or warnings about dangerous road surfaces. I had a number of instances of paranoia hit me, especially if I was by myself. I was convinced that there were people in the group that didn't want me there, and they were plotting out a way to get rid of me. Close to midnight, the fatigue really set in and I started cat napping for a few seconds while riding, even on the steep downhills. This went on for at least 30 minutes until I realized what a danger I was becoming, and told the group I needed to stop for a bit. Charles stopped with me for a few seconds to make sure I was OK and then took off to catch up with the group. I broke into my seatbag and drank one of the two bottles of 5 Hour Energy I had bought just in case something like this happened. I had used it for the same reason during my first ultra distance event, the Metamora 4x50, in 2006, and knew that it worked for me when the chips were down. Drinking that, and some water, made me feel quite a bit better, and soon I was alert, back on the bike, and making contact with the group after a steep hill or two.
As I looked around, I realized that we were on a portion of TIV7 course again, as we were descending towards the Iowa River a bit north of Montour. I was happy that Mark had opted to not use the particularly hilly section of B-road on our route this year, and soon we crossed Highway 30 and cruised on pavement into Montour. As the evening wore on, we exited a B road and everyone stopped to make sense of a huge mileage jump between two cues. After confirmation by all nine riders, it was decided that this really was a long push in one direction, and we had not all lost the same sheet. After this big push, thoughts started turning to the next convenience store stop. We were all ready for a break at this point, and the thought of the 24 hour oasis was increasingly appealing to everyone. Cresting, a short steep hill, we could see a glow only a mile or two away. Surely we would be there soon! However, road signs and cue sheets indicated otherwise. We turned away from the warm glow, and towards the town of Brooklyn. Again, knowing the area you are in can be a good and a bad thing. After the first disappointment, I was convinced that the promised convenience store would be in Brooklyn, and near the freeway. However, the cue sheets turned us away from the freeway, and I became really confused. It was now about 2:30 AM, and we all stopped in the middle of Brooklyn and took stock of the situation. Reading the cues, we still had another 10 - 15 miles to get to the c-store. At this point, everyone deflated a bit. The temperature had dipped into the mid 30s, and fatigue was really starting to set in. Most people were prepared for mid 40s as a low. Some where chilled and were looking for more layers, while others were resigned to their fate, and tried to push the cold out of their thoughts. We took a few minutes to pass extra layers to people in need and refueled. In silence, we all remounted our bikes and left Brooklyn behind us. For the next 12 miles, the pop of rock against the tires was the only sound we heard. The roads were hilly, littered with fresh rock, and no one in the group made a sound. Mentally, this was the lowest point for me on the entire ride. I was tired, none of the food I had with me sounded appetizing, and I could see the light of the c-store off in the distance, calling me like a siren. After what seemed like an eternity, we finally pulled into the Kwik Star near the intersection of Hwy 21 and I-80. It had been nearly 100 miles of riding by this point, and it had taken us about 9.5 hours to get here. I was, once again, behind on fluids and not feeling well, with only 3 large bottles and a can of coke since we left Gladbrook. But, we only had 40 miles left to go and a finish was looking more like a "when", rather than an "if" as long as nothing out of the ordinary happened. I parked my bike and stumbled into the warmth of the store, knowing that we would soon be seeing the sun rise a second time.
As I ate, more riders showed up and I struggled figuring out why I had to arrived ahead of this many people. Many of them were people I considered favorites to win, some of them with multiple TI finishes under their belts. Cornbread and one of the other people from Lincoln cleaned my leg off, for which I was very grateful. The H202 had a bit of a sting and foamed a lot, but it was good to know that we were taking a swipe at the germs sooner rather than later. Riders continued to come in to the parking lot, some, like Jim Cummins, looking completely spent. I hoped that they were able to rest, recover, and finish the race. While I ate and talked, I noticed a number of the favorites getting their stuff together and leave. I used that as my cue to get going, and quickly grabbed a can of coke for the road, packed my stuff up and headed out. As my friend and TI finisher Paul Jacobson said, "Get back on the bike." I'd spent just over an hour recovering and felt loads better as I headed north out of town. As I rode down the pavement I could see a good sized group of riders forming in the hills ahead of me. I really wanted to catch them, but I wanted to take a cautious approach to how much energy I used to bridge up to them. I rode at a steady pace, slowly closing the gap between me and the group. Near mile 195, I pulled in behind them as they slowed to change cue sheets. I quickly took stock of who was here. First, was Charles Parsons, Tim Ek, Mike Johnson and Jay Barre. All of them had finished on one or more occasions, and were well poised to finish again. Next, Paul Errington and Ben Oney. Both super strong riders with lots of ultra-distance experience. Paul had finished the Dirty Kanza 200 last summer, and Ben had finished 13th in the 2011 Tour Divide. Both brought more firepower to the group. Finally, Chris Wells and Paul Carpenter. I had not met either of them before today, but if they had made it this far, then they had to be strong, and feeling pretty good. After about 30 seconds, I felt that all of these riders were likely to finish, so I decided to sit in with them for the rest of the race.
Spirits in the group were high, considering that we were not even two-thirds of the way through the race. The sunset and susequent twilight were gorgeous and there was a lot of talking and joking going on when the roads were good. On the hills and loose rock, things quieted down and it became obvious that TCoB was the order of the day at those points. Jay was doing a bang up job as navigator and Charles was moving around in the group, talking to people and keeping things organized. Being the "FNG" of this group, I made sure I took long pulls at the front and tried not to do anything to jeopardize being allowed to stay in the group. I was still not sure how I had arrived in a position to ride with this particular group overnight, and I was waiting for the proverbial hammer to fall on my personal race at any time. The next few hours were routine. We pedaled, and we stopped every hour or so for food or a bio break, as long as the majority of the group needed to do so. There were times where we didn't stop if only one person needed to stop. I was having issues holding my line as twilight turned to dark. It was obvious I was starting to get fatigued. At one point, I started getting whiny and negative about the road conditions, and Charles Parsons dropped back from the front of the group, quietly told me "Say nothing but positive words from here on out." and then proceeded to ride back up front. I took the kindly worded hint and kept quiet, unless spoken to for quite a while. During the night, the talk died down other than the announcement of milestones ("only 100 miles left") or warnings about dangerous road surfaces. I had a number of instances of paranoia hit me, especially if I was by myself. I was convinced that there were people in the group that didn't want me there, and they were plotting out a way to get rid of me. Close to midnight, the fatigue really set in and I started cat napping for a few seconds while riding, even on the steep downhills. This went on for at least 30 minutes until I realized what a danger I was becoming, and told the group I needed to stop for a bit. Charles stopped with me for a few seconds to make sure I was OK and then took off to catch up with the group. I broke into my seatbag and drank one of the two bottles of 5 Hour Energy I had bought just in case something like this happened. I had used it for the same reason during my first ultra distance event, the Metamora 4x50, in 2006, and knew that it worked for me when the chips were down. Drinking that, and some water, made me feel quite a bit better, and soon I was alert, back on the bike, and making contact with the group after a steep hill or two.
As I looked around, I realized that we were on a portion of TIV7 course again, as we were descending towards the Iowa River a bit north of Montour. I was happy that Mark had opted to not use the particularly hilly section of B-road on our route this year, and soon we crossed Highway 30 and cruised on pavement into Montour. As the evening wore on, we exited a B road and everyone stopped to make sense of a huge mileage jump between two cues. After confirmation by all nine riders, it was decided that this really was a long push in one direction, and we had not all lost the same sheet. After this big push, thoughts started turning to the next convenience store stop. We were all ready for a break at this point, and the thought of the 24 hour oasis was increasingly appealing to everyone. Cresting, a short steep hill, we could see a glow only a mile or two away. Surely we would be there soon! However, road signs and cue sheets indicated otherwise. We turned away from the warm glow, and towards the town of Brooklyn. Again, knowing the area you are in can be a good and a bad thing. After the first disappointment, I was convinced that the promised convenience store would be in Brooklyn, and near the freeway. However, the cue sheets turned us away from the freeway, and I became really confused. It was now about 2:30 AM, and we all stopped in the middle of Brooklyn and took stock of the situation. Reading the cues, we still had another 10 - 15 miles to get to the c-store. At this point, everyone deflated a bit. The temperature had dipped into the mid 30s, and fatigue was really starting to set in. Most people were prepared for mid 40s as a low. Some where chilled and were looking for more layers, while others were resigned to their fate, and tried to push the cold out of their thoughts. We took a few minutes to pass extra layers to people in need and refueled. In silence, we all remounted our bikes and left Brooklyn behind us. For the next 12 miles, the pop of rock against the tires was the only sound we heard. The roads were hilly, littered with fresh rock, and no one in the group made a sound. Mentally, this was the lowest point for me on the entire ride. I was tired, none of the food I had with me sounded appetizing, and I could see the light of the c-store off in the distance, calling me like a siren. After what seemed like an eternity, we finally pulled into the Kwik Star near the intersection of Hwy 21 and I-80. It had been nearly 100 miles of riding by this point, and it had taken us about 9.5 hours to get here. I was, once again, behind on fluids and not feeling well, with only 3 large bottles and a can of coke since we left Gladbrook. But, we only had 40 miles left to go and a finish was looking more like a "when", rather than an "if" as long as nothing out of the ordinary happened. I parked my bike and stumbled into the warmth of the store, knowing that we would soon be seeing the sun rise a second time.
Thursday, May 9, 2013
TIV9 Race Recap - Good Times and Bad
Mark gave us the opportunity to climb a nice, steep hill right after leaving CP1. I clawed my way to the top, and tried to not over-exert myself in the process. A few miles down the road, the course turned north, and it became apparent that the winds were a bit stronger than forecast. The sun was out, the gravel had gotten a bit nicer, and I had a tailwind - it was really a good time to be riding. I caught up to a few riders as I closed in on Melbourne, including Aaron Gammel and one of his Moose's Tooth teammates. We rode together through Melbourne until we arrived at the turn for the bike path near Highway 330. Mark had mentioned there was a convenience store around mile 75 or so, and seeing a small one a half mile up the bike path, I turned right, and off course, while everyone else turned left and followed the route. I had promised myself early on that I would visit any convenience store I saw to get something to eat and top off fluids, and this was the first opportunity to do so. I met Matt Maxwell at this store as well, so I felt better about my decision to go a bit off route. I downed some chocolate milk, a fruit pie, refilled all of my bottles, and bought a Snickers Almond Bar to go, then rode back on course. I met more riders at this point, and as we crossed under Hwy 330 and exited the tunnel, the photographers were camped out waiting for us. After four or five miles of pedaling, we were in State Center and riding right by a Casey's. Judging by the pile of bikes outside, this was supposed to be our first convenience store. Since I had just filled up about 3 miles earlier, I opted to enjoy the tailwind and keep motoring on by myself. Exiting town, I passed by a pheasant farm. I certainly had never seen one of those before. A few miles outside of State Center, I pulled up next to Jay Barre, Ben Oney and Chris Mills. Jay was looking strong on his Gunnar single speed, and Ben and Chris were both quite comfortable with the pace they were riding. Since I had been riding by myself for a good portion of the morning, I decided to settle in, chat a bit, and just enjoy being on the bike in such great weather. I rarely get to ride with Jay or Ben, so this was was a good chance to catch up with them by something other than Facebook posts.
This was an interesting part of the course. We hit some soft sandy sections as we passed by Marietta Sand Prairie Preserve, and soon found ourselves turning on to Mormon Ridge Road, which was the first long climb of the day. Everyone found their own pace up the hill and, upon cresting the climb, we found ourselves on a gently curving road, with trees on our right and a gorgeous valley view our left. We passed a small historical site with a log cabin on it, as well as a giant robins egg blue house with red doors. We dropped off of the ridge, stopped for a short food and bio break at a bridge, then kept moving on. After passing over a washed out section of gravel, we passed Paul Errington and Tim Ek along the side of the road. Tim was working on fixing a flat tire and Paul appeared to be providing moral support and high fives to anyone that passed by. A short time later, we pulled up on two more riders out of the race just outside of Union. One was sitting near a fence line and waiting for ride, and the other was Lance Andre, who had shred a tubular. He was walking into Union in search of a beer and to wait for a ride. Suddenly I was feeling lucky about not having any suffered any flats or mechanicals, even though it was early in the race. A short way after we passed Union, I found myself alone again as my "brain off" pace was different from that of either Jay, Ben and Chris. The tailwind and the sun continued to boost my spirits and keep me moving on.
This was an interesting part of the course. We hit some soft sandy sections as we passed by Marietta Sand Prairie Preserve, and soon found ourselves turning on to Mormon Ridge Road, which was the first long climb of the day. Everyone found their own pace up the hill and, upon cresting the climb, we found ourselves on a gently curving road, with trees on our right and a gorgeous valley view our left. We passed a small historical site with a log cabin on it, as well as a giant robins egg blue house with red doors. We dropped off of the ridge, stopped for a short food and bio break at a bridge, then kept moving on. After passing over a washed out section of gravel, we passed Paul Errington and Tim Ek along the side of the road. Tim was working on fixing a flat tire and Paul appeared to be providing moral support and high fives to anyone that passed by. A short time later, we pulled up on two more riders out of the race just outside of Union. One was sitting near a fence line and waiting for ride, and the other was Lance Andre, who had shred a tubular. He was walking into Union in search of a beer and to wait for a ride. Suddenly I was feeling lucky about not having any suffered any flats or mechanicals, even though it was early in the race. A short way after we passed Union, I found myself alone again as my "brain off" pace was different from that of either Jay, Ben and Chris. The tailwind and the sun continued to boost my spirits and keep me moving on.
Around mile 120, the route turned on to pavement and through the town of Eldora. For some reason, this section was a little confusing to me, even though we went straight through town. As I rode through town, I didn't see a convenience store or anywhere I felt like stopping it, so I made the decision to keep rolling north. This decision would be both a good and bad thing for me further up the road. The route continued to follow pavement north of Eldora, crossing a crumbling, but still functioning bridge before sending us back on to Hardin County gravel roads 124 miles in to the race. At mile 127, I pulled over to allow a large tractor and harrow get past me, only to have to hit the brakes as we both descended into the Iowa River valley. I followed the tractor left and breathed a sigh of relief as he turned off into a farm just as the next long climb started. I had no issues with the climb, which was, once again, tree lined and gorgeous, despite the lack of leaves on the trees.
After I crested the climb, I took a drink and was preparing to get back in to my over-the-road rhythm, when I noticed a white dog running out from the farm I was passing. Before I knew it, I had two dogs running after me. The smaller of the two was on my left, and dodging dangerously close to my front tire. The larger one opted to take a longer route and chase from behind. In perfect pack hunt mode, the smaller one herded me along and distracted me, while the larger one continued to build speed. Both dogs were much more aggressive than any I had previously encountered while riding and I was becoming concerned. Neither my sharp commands of "no" and "bad dog", nor the shouts from the people at the farm were having their any effect. Suddenly I felt a hard tap on my right heel, and then things quickly went silent as the larger dog sank it's mouth into the meat of my right calf. Shock quickly morphed into fight or flight response as I wasn't sure that this was actually happening. I stopped pedaling, locked the brakes up and the dog immediately let go and ran across the street and sat at the edge of an unplowed field. I was in a state of panic at this point. I recall screaming at the dog, at the people at the farm, and, silently at myself. I was afraid to look at my calf. I was sure my race was over. I needed to get the owners info, but I wanted to get away as fast as I could. I started to throw a leg over my bike, but noticed the dog tensing up as soon as my foot left the ground, so I stood still, my bike between me and the dog, and waited for the owners to come out. I looked away from the dog to see two women running toward me, while an older man in an electric wheelchair cruised out of the driveway, swung left, and rolled up behind them. I looked at my calf, and was relieved to see mostly scratches. However, the dog had sunk one of his lower canines in solidly, and that hole was pumping blood out at what seemed like a rapid rate. One of the women handed me a damp paper towel to clean the blood off, and one to dry my leg with. After assurances that the dog had never done this before, and that he was up to date on his shots, I found out that the people helping me were just watching the dog for a friend. After a failed call to the dog's owner, I emailed both the old guy's and the owners contact info to myself, and made a mental note of the location. After what was the longest 10 minutes I've ever spent stopped during a bike race, I got back on my bike and continued up the course.
After a few easy pedal strokes, I was amazed that the bite area only felt slightly bruised. I bumped the effort up a bit and, noticing no sharp pain, quickly got back into what I thought was race pace. I passed two riders that received the sharp end of my tongue earlier when they inquired about my condition. I slowed up a bit, explained what happened, and apologized for being so rude. I descended into the river valley again, climbed out, and then bounced across a freshly rocked section of road near the Hardin County Conservation headquarters. Finally, the road smoothed out and I was able to sit on my aero bars, ride a bit of tempo and try to catch up on my nutrition. Up to now I had been running on adrenaline and rage, and it took me a while to get settled down and get things back to normal. This also meant that my nutrition and fluid intake was off, and I had wasted a lot of energy. The next 10 miles went by without incident and soon I was turning south and riding down North Willow Road. I had driven over this road a number of times on trips to Waterloo and Dubuque, but always wanted to ride along on it just to ride by this cool church just to the south of Highway 20.
As I approached the highway, I saw a rider stopped and was surprised to see Dennis Grelk cleaning dirt out of his cleats. I stopped to chat quickly and then continued on, but it didn't take Dennis long to catch up to me. We worked together for quite a few miles, taking turns pulling into the headwind. I finally had to stop and eat. Dennis pulled over with me and soon we saw a good sized group of riders roll by, including Aaron Gammel, Monika Sattler, and Jana Vavra. We buttoned up and took off after them but they were already quite a ways ahead of us. It was at this point I watched Dennis ride ahead and I decided to switch to survival mode, as I had 3/4 of a bottle of water left, and at least another 15 miles to the checkpoint. An hour later (around 4:30 PM or so) I was rolling down a B-Road, past the photographers and into CP2. As I pulled up to Jeremy and Robert, the stress of the last 3 hours finally caught up to me and I broke down. I was bleeding, dehydrated, under-nourished, and exhausted. All I could do was stand over my bike, let the tears flow and hope to pull myself back together. Jeremy's news that I was 12th coming into the checkpoint actually made me feel worse, as I felt I had no business being in that spot at this point in the event. After a few minutes, and some words with Jeremy, I got myself under control and proceeded to work through my normal check point procedure. I swapped out cue sheets, ate some food, and drained every last ounce of fluid out of my other three bottles. I had just under a half bottle of water left, 150 miles to go, and it was 10 miles to Gladbrook, and the next convenience store.
After a few easy pedal strokes, I was amazed that the bite area only felt slightly bruised. I bumped the effort up a bit and, noticing no sharp pain, quickly got back into what I thought was race pace. I passed two riders that received the sharp end of my tongue earlier when they inquired about my condition. I slowed up a bit, explained what happened, and apologized for being so rude. I descended into the river valley again, climbed out, and then bounced across a freshly rocked section of road near the Hardin County Conservation headquarters. Finally, the road smoothed out and I was able to sit on my aero bars, ride a bit of tempo and try to catch up on my nutrition. Up to now I had been running on adrenaline and rage, and it took me a while to get settled down and get things back to normal. This also meant that my nutrition and fluid intake was off, and I had wasted a lot of energy. The next 10 miles went by without incident and soon I was turning south and riding down North Willow Road. I had driven over this road a number of times on trips to Waterloo and Dubuque, but always wanted to ride along on it just to ride by this cool church just to the south of Highway 20.
As I approached the highway, I saw a rider stopped and was surprised to see Dennis Grelk cleaning dirt out of his cleats. I stopped to chat quickly and then continued on, but it didn't take Dennis long to catch up to me. We worked together for quite a few miles, taking turns pulling into the headwind. I finally had to stop and eat. Dennis pulled over with me and soon we saw a good sized group of riders roll by, including Aaron Gammel, Monika Sattler, and Jana Vavra. We buttoned up and took off after them but they were already quite a ways ahead of us. It was at this point I watched Dennis ride ahead and I decided to switch to survival mode, as I had 3/4 of a bottle of water left, and at least another 15 miles to the checkpoint. An hour later (around 4:30 PM or so) I was rolling down a B-Road, past the photographers and into CP2. As I pulled up to Jeremy and Robert, the stress of the last 3 hours finally caught up to me and I broke down. I was bleeding, dehydrated, under-nourished, and exhausted. All I could do was stand over my bike, let the tears flow and hope to pull myself back together. Jeremy's news that I was 12th coming into the checkpoint actually made me feel worse, as I felt I had no business being in that spot at this point in the event. After a few minutes, and some words with Jeremy, I got myself under control and proceeded to work through my normal check point procedure. I swapped out cue sheets, ate some food, and drained every last ounce of fluid out of my other three bottles. I had just under a half bottle of water left, 150 miles to go, and it was 10 miles to Gladbrook, and the next convenience store.
Monday, May 6, 2013
TIV9 Race Recap - The Hills of Jasper County
My alarm went off around 2:30 or 2:45 AM - I can't really remember when. I had placed all of my bottles and kit in the bathroom the night before, so that's where I went to prepare myself for the day's events. I moved my bike into the hall while eating a breakfast cookie, set my tire pressures, then knocked on Paul and Vin's door to see how they were getting along. They were mostly set to go, but Paul was getting more beauty shots taken of him by the photographer that Salsa had sent to document his day. It was like being in the middle of a Rapha Continental shoot in some ways ;)
After transferring Paul and Vin's belongings to my room, the three of us rode down Hwy 146 into Grinnell and rolled in to downtown and in front of Bikes to You. The mood around the starting line was much lighter than in past years. The morning's relatively warm, humid, temperature and the forecast for the rest of the race weekend surely was the cause for this. Despite being there for the better part of 30 minutes, I really don't remember too many details. Knowing that I wouldn't see many of these people until Sunday, if at all, I tried to wish the riders I knew good luck. I recall lots of camera flashes going off, and a few people shouting my name. Mostly, I was trying to keep my nerves under control and silently hoping that nothing unexpected would derail the last four months worth of training. The Trans Iowa can deal cruel twists, even when you have prepared properly. Guitar Ted gave some last minute instructions, hopped in the Truck with No Name, and allowed us 5 minutes to our own thoughts before honking his horn and heading south on Broad Street.
The horn startled me out of my thoughts and I found myself clipping in and following everyone else down Broad. Since I opted to not look at the cue sheets the night before, I wasn't really sure where we were headed and just settled in behind everyone else. It wasn't too long before we took a right hand turn, and I realized we were right crossing Hwy 146 close to our hotel. A small group of people were at the controlled intersection cheering for us. Suddenly, Guitar Ted sped away into the morning darkness and it was just us and the gravel.
At the pre-race meeting, Mark mentioned that the first 12 miles were going to be shoulder to shoulder fresh gravel. He wasn't lying. My heart rate jumped from a fairly sedate 125 to 150 bpm as I tried to get my legs and bike beneath me and settle into some sort of reasonable pace. The next few minutes were hectic as our cluster of 90 riders quickly strung out into lines and worked to find the smoothest lines we could. As the fast guys worked their way to the front, I settled into maintainable pace and picked my way around other riders as the hills and the gravel allowed. It was going to be a long day and I was not going to end it early by forcing a pass when it wasn't safe for me or the other riders. During this first few miles, the eyeglasses I was wearing were fogging up to the point they were useless. So much for reading any road signs from a distance. There was a group up ahead, but their pace was faster than what I was comfortable running, and I opted to let them ride away. Soon, the sun was up, and I found myself alone. I settled into a schedule of drinking every 15 minutes and eating at the top of every hour. I felt that this would be an easy schedule to remember, even as the race wore on and I started to tire. I recall passing the Wittenberg Grange building near Clay Street and Holly Avenue, viewing numerous foggy valleys from above, and seeing photographers at various points on course as we passed by. These things, and the seemingly unending rollers of Jasper County, were what stick out most in my mind from the first section. Parts of the course were used as part of TIV5, as I rode by some of the same spots I sat at to take photos of riders early on. Mark was taking us almost straight east across a good portion of Jasper county, and in the process showing riders just how flat Iowa was.
Before I knew it, I found myself on a long, paved descent and a short section of bike path, rolling into CP1. One of the volunteers took my number, and I remember Ryan Clutter and Chad Quigley asking me how I felt. At this point, I didn't feel like I had ridden 10 miles, let alone 50. I was very happy with my pacing and my nutrition to this point and didn't feel like I had over extended myself in any way. After a few minutes to swap cue sheets and quick restroom break, I turned south and scaled a steep climb to start the second leg, which would take us over 120 miles to an unknown location.
After transferring Paul and Vin's belongings to my room, the three of us rode down Hwy 146 into Grinnell and rolled in to downtown and in front of Bikes to You. The mood around the starting line was much lighter than in past years. The morning's relatively warm, humid, temperature and the forecast for the rest of the race weekend surely was the cause for this. Despite being there for the better part of 30 minutes, I really don't remember too many details. Knowing that I wouldn't see many of these people until Sunday, if at all, I tried to wish the riders I knew good luck. I recall lots of camera flashes going off, and a few people shouting my name. Mostly, I was trying to keep my nerves under control and silently hoping that nothing unexpected would derail the last four months worth of training. The Trans Iowa can deal cruel twists, even when you have prepared properly. Guitar Ted gave some last minute instructions, hopped in the Truck with No Name, and allowed us 5 minutes to our own thoughts before honking his horn and heading south on Broad Street.
The horn startled me out of my thoughts and I found myself clipping in and following everyone else down Broad. Since I opted to not look at the cue sheets the night before, I wasn't really sure where we were headed and just settled in behind everyone else. It wasn't too long before we took a right hand turn, and I realized we were right crossing Hwy 146 close to our hotel. A small group of people were at the controlled intersection cheering for us. Suddenly, Guitar Ted sped away into the morning darkness and it was just us and the gravel.
At the pre-race meeting, Mark mentioned that the first 12 miles were going to be shoulder to shoulder fresh gravel. He wasn't lying. My heart rate jumped from a fairly sedate 125 to 150 bpm as I tried to get my legs and bike beneath me and settle into some sort of reasonable pace. The next few minutes were hectic as our cluster of 90 riders quickly strung out into lines and worked to find the smoothest lines we could. As the fast guys worked their way to the front, I settled into maintainable pace and picked my way around other riders as the hills and the gravel allowed. It was going to be a long day and I was not going to end it early by forcing a pass when it wasn't safe for me or the other riders. During this first few miles, the eyeglasses I was wearing were fogging up to the point they were useless. So much for reading any road signs from a distance. There was a group up ahead, but their pace was faster than what I was comfortable running, and I opted to let them ride away. Soon, the sun was up, and I found myself alone. I settled into a schedule of drinking every 15 minutes and eating at the top of every hour. I felt that this would be an easy schedule to remember, even as the race wore on and I started to tire. I recall passing the Wittenberg Grange building near Clay Street and Holly Avenue, viewing numerous foggy valleys from above, and seeing photographers at various points on course as we passed by. These things, and the seemingly unending rollers of Jasper County, were what stick out most in my mind from the first section. Parts of the course were used as part of TIV5, as I rode by some of the same spots I sat at to take photos of riders early on. Mark was taking us almost straight east across a good portion of Jasper county, and in the process showing riders just how flat Iowa was.
Before I knew it, I found myself on a long, paved descent and a short section of bike path, rolling into CP1. One of the volunteers took my number, and I remember Ryan Clutter and Chad Quigley asking me how I felt. At this point, I didn't feel like I had ridden 10 miles, let alone 50. I was very happy with my pacing and my nutrition to this point and didn't feel like I had over extended myself in any way. After a few minutes to swap cue sheets and quick restroom break, I turned south and scaled a steep climb to start the second leg, which would take us over 120 miles to an unknown location.
Saturday, May 4, 2013
TIV9 Race recap - Pre-Race events
My TransIowa experience started early Thursday with a number of morning errands, a chiropractic adjustment, a stop at Rasmussen Bike Shop, and a pre-race leg massage at Hands on Sports Massage. Afterwards, I went to the airport and awaited the arrival of my of two British guests for the weekend - Salsa team rider Paul Errington and Vin Cox, former holder of the Guinness World Record for biking around the world. After some initial contact an exchange of emails and messages, they both accepted my offer of both race weekend support, and a cheap place to stay while they were in town. Vin's plane arrived about 90 minutes late due to some mechanical issues, so we opted to hang out at the airport, grab a snack, chat, and wait for Paul. After Paul's flight arrived around 7:30 PM, we picked up his bike in baggage claim, loaded it up on the Explorer next to Vin's, and headed to my house.
Once we arrived home, Paul's anxiousness to get his bike built led to Vin changing his mind and building his too. After opening his case, Vin discovered that American Airlines had damaged his front wheel beyond use. Two minutes later, he had moved his tire and tube over to one of my spare rims, and he was set to go for the race. While they built their bikes, my close friend and our support driver, Scot, cooked a dinner of NY strips, baked potatoes and grilled asparagus. We spent an hour or so eating and talking, until it was time for Paul and Vin to try and get some sleep. My sleep came in short, fitful bursts that night, as my subconscious ran through all of the things I needed to get done before and during the race.
I expected the next morning to be stressful with three of us trying to get things ready for the weekend, but it was quite relaxed. After some coffee, final packing and finishing up the bike builds, we had time to head out to Hy-Vee for breakfast and food supplies for the weekend. We loaded up the bikes around noon and picked up Scot at his house. Next we made a made a quick stop at Rasmussen Bike Shop so I could say thanks to everyone, and so we could snag some last minute bike parts. After a stop at Abelardo's for a delicious burrito, we were on our way. By 4:30, we had arrived, checked-in, secured a 2 PM check-out for Sunday, replaced Paul's MIA bottle lid, and started walking to the Meat-Up. As we started signing the race and media wavers, the day's calmness quickly gave way to anxiety. I suddenly felt 50 pounds heavier and about 3 feet tall. I ordered a beer to help take the tension off and spent the quite a bit of time saying hi to riders, friends and support crew as I saw them. I hadn't seen many of them since last year, so it was good to spend a few minutes catching up with them and wishing them the best for tomorrow. I finally decided that I needed to eat, whether I was hungry or not, so I did the grill thing, and ended up stuffing myself with what appeared to be a 2 pound chicken breast.
After dinner, we all moved to to another room for the pre-race meeting. After introducing the sponsors and volunteers, a raffle was conducted. Then, Mark went over the rules and details for TIV9. I was fortunate enough to win a nice prize package made up of a signed cycling poster, pound of coffee, and pair of socks courtesy of North Central Cyclery. We were each called up by name, and given the first set of cue sheets and nutritional items from, one of the sponsors, Gu Energy. Once all of the names were called, our group headed back to the hotel. I took a few minutes to drive down to Bikes To You and hang out with Coop and bunch of other people for a bit. It was a good opportunity for me to relax and clear my head with friends and fellow riders just a bit more before Saturday morning arrived. Mark arrived a few minutes after me, and Coop presented him with a certificate of appreciation from the Grinnell Chamber of Commerce for bringing TransIowa there. After half an hour or so, I headed back to the hotel. I laid out my kit, prepped bottles, mounted cues, and gave my faithful Salsa La Cruz a final once over. I finally went to bed around 9 PM.
Once we arrived home, Paul's anxiousness to get his bike built led to Vin changing his mind and building his too. After opening his case, Vin discovered that American Airlines had damaged his front wheel beyond use. Two minutes later, he had moved his tire and tube over to one of my spare rims, and he was set to go for the race. While they built their bikes, my close friend and our support driver, Scot, cooked a dinner of NY strips, baked potatoes and grilled asparagus. We spent an hour or so eating and talking, until it was time for Paul and Vin to try and get some sleep. My sleep came in short, fitful bursts that night, as my subconscious ran through all of the things I needed to get done before and during the race.
I expected the next morning to be stressful with three of us trying to get things ready for the weekend, but it was quite relaxed. After some coffee, final packing and finishing up the bike builds, we had time to head out to Hy-Vee for breakfast and food supplies for the weekend. We loaded up the bikes around noon and picked up Scot at his house. Next we made a made a quick stop at Rasmussen Bike Shop so I could say thanks to everyone, and so we could snag some last minute bike parts. After a stop at Abelardo's for a delicious burrito, we were on our way. By 4:30, we had arrived, checked-in, secured a 2 PM check-out for Sunday, replaced Paul's MIA bottle lid, and started walking to the Meat-Up. As we started signing the race and media wavers, the day's calmness quickly gave way to anxiety. I suddenly felt 50 pounds heavier and about 3 feet tall. I ordered a beer to help take the tension off and spent the quite a bit of time saying hi to riders, friends and support crew as I saw them. I hadn't seen many of them since last year, so it was good to spend a few minutes catching up with them and wishing them the best for tomorrow. I finally decided that I needed to eat, whether I was hungry or not, so I did the grill thing, and ended up stuffing myself with what appeared to be a 2 pound chicken breast.
After dinner, we all moved to to another room for the pre-race meeting. After introducing the sponsors and volunteers, a raffle was conducted. Then, Mark went over the rules and details for TIV9. I was fortunate enough to win a nice prize package made up of a signed cycling poster, pound of coffee, and pair of socks courtesy of North Central Cyclery. We were each called up by name, and given the first set of cue sheets and nutritional items from, one of the sponsors, Gu Energy. Once all of the names were called, our group headed back to the hotel. I took a few minutes to drive down to Bikes To You and hang out with Coop and bunch of other people for a bit. It was a good opportunity for me to relax and clear my head with friends and fellow riders just a bit more before Saturday morning arrived. Mark arrived a few minutes after me, and Coop presented him with a certificate of appreciation from the Grinnell Chamber of Commerce for bringing TransIowa there. After half an hour or so, I headed back to the hotel. I laid out my kit, prepped bottles, mounted cues, and gave my faithful Salsa La Cruz a final once over. I finally went to bed around 9 PM.
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