This weekend I kicked off the 2014 race season with a new
type of event. Barry Roubaix is dubbed
the “Killer Gravel Road Race” and it sure lived up to its name Saturday. I have never done a long gravel road race
like this before so I was excited but a little nervous at the same time. Overall the event attracts thousands of
participants, and this year there were more than 2,000 pre-registered. The group of people is diverse and ranges
from novice weekend riders doing the short 24 mile route up to elite Cat 1’s
doing the full 62 mile “Killer” route. I
registered for the 62 mile open event which means there are no categories and
everyone goes off in one big wave. At
the start there were two pros lined up right in front of me, which I could tell
because they had their name and team decals on their bikes and helmets. But right next to them was a dude on a heavy
steel frame with a luggage rack mounted to the front fork.
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| The start of Barry Roubaix 2014 |
I put a lot of time into deciding exactly what bike, wheels,
and tires I was going to ride. Depending
on the weather conditions studded tires might be required if the temperatures
were below freezing and there was a lot of ice.
Or wide knobby tires might be better if the temperature was above
freezing and it was wet and sloppy. They
day before the race the course was dry and hard packed so many riders I talked
too were riding higher pressure and skinnier tires. However, it had rained overnight and I foresaw
things being sloppy and wet rather than hard packed. The temperature was hovering just above
freezing so I chose to go with a 33 millimeter Challenge, file tread tire at 42
psi. This would give me a little cushion
to ride over some of the slop but a decent pressure to ride on the hard pack.
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| My rig |
At the start I was hearing rumblings that the first 10 miles
were going to be brutal but that the whole course was not like that. Since I was starting near the back of the
pack the plan was to hit the gas early, get to the front, and hang on for the
ride.
The sun was barely peeking out of the clouds when the
whistle blew to start the race, exactly on time at, 11:00 am. It’s a bad feeling when you see people moving
at the front of the pack and you are still sitting still waiting for the bunch
in front you to start moving. But soon I
was up out the saddle and weaving through the crowd making my way to the
front. The bunch was slow and as we made
our way out of town it was easy to get to the front before the first section of
gravel. The “easy” part of the race
abruptly ended at about 3 minutes when we made a right hand turn onto the first
gravel road. In a matter of seconds
things went from Sunday morning club ride to the Tour de France. The front guys hit the accelerator and we
took off. I was chasing the wheel in
front of me instantly. My mind went
blank I was holding on for dear life.
The road was filled with potholes, washboards, soft sand, and mud. The camber of the road dove sharply left and
right into deep ditches filled with water and muck. The mud was so thick it felt like arms were
reaching up to pull me off into the ditch.
I was fighting the bike to stay upright and to hold the wheel in front
of me.
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| Good representation of an easy part of the course |
The first 8-10 miles of the race were a total blur. My heart rate was pegged over 180 and my legs
were screaming. But with every hill and
acceleration I could feel the pack behind me dwindling down. I kept the pace high and told myself over and
over “don’t lose that wheel” in front of me.
No matter what. The climbs were
steep and the mud and water just kept coming.
It was hard to see much in front of me so sometimes all you could
do was hit the holes head on and pray not to flat or crash. Other times as the pack whittled down it was
easier to see a line through the holes and muck and chart a decent course.
Finally after about 10 miles the pace eased slightly as the
road transitioned from the muddy apocalypse to more just wet gravel and some
hard pack. At this point I could see
there was a group of 15-20 off the front and I was in the second chase
group. As the shattered riders reformed
and assessed the situation I recovered a little and saw that the group I was in
was pretty strong. When we hit the first
paved section we began to work together to try and catch the lead group. Despite the fact that we were all from
different teams and didn't know each other from Adam we could all sense the
strength of our group and willingness to work so we started taking even pulls
at the front chasing down the leaders.
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| The case group forming early in the race |
Clearly there were some very strong riders in our group who
were taking longer pulls but I was feeling good and doing my fair share of
work. Around an hour into the race I
took my first peanut butter and jelly sandwich out of my pocket and ate
that. I also made an early race mistake
which cost me dearly two hours later.
Knowing the road was rough I’d taking one water bottle and put it in my
back pocket so it wouldn’t fall out.
After taking a drink I went to put it back in the cage on the bike and
it slipped out of my hand and fell to the road. We were going way to fast to stop so all I
could do was curse under my breath and hope that I could make the best out of
the one remaining bottle I had.
Thankfully I had dropped my plain water bottle not the one with my
electrolyte mixture otherwise I’d have been really up a creek.
As we settled into our rotations I was feeling
good but our pace was slow. A lot slower than I’d thought it would
be. The muddy roads were causing the pace
to be slower than last year which meant more time on the bike. I was worried I wouldn’t have enough food and
water to last the whole time. All I
could do was go as hard as I could and hang on.
I was doing well on the climbs and at one point I was off the front of
our group until another rider came up an told me to slow down a bit so we could
keep our group together. It was a little
flattering and I definitely felt like one of the stronger riders in the group. We continued working together to pull back
the leaders and finally a little over halfway we caught a bunch off the main
group.
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| I'm at the back of this group |
At the time I thought we had caught the whole first group
but as it turns out we didn’t. It was
just a portion of the group and there were still other riders off the front. This was a mistake because we stopped working
together as much once we thought we’d caught the main pack. We accepted that we were all together and
settled into new larger group. At this
point we were well over half way through the race and I was starting to feel
the distance. My legs were starting to
tingle with the first signs of cramps.
For me this is my worst enemy and I have a history of cramps that
completely obliterate my performance.
I continued to feed and took a few electrolyte tabs to try
and replenish lost fluids. But I think
the lack of water was having an effect.
The pace was still high and every section of mud took that much more
power to maintain speed. I drifted to
the back of the group and finally was just hanging on by a thread. I looked down at my computer and could see
there were only 10 miles left. I was at
my limit and could sense that I might not make it. I knew it was going to be very close.
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| Me grinding up another glimb |
I took my last gel and emptied my bottle. From here on I was on my own. Soon after that I went through my first bout of
cramps mixed with a nutrition bonk. It
was horrible. Finally, my quads AND hams both
completely locked and I could not stand nor sit to alleviate them. There was no position that would free my legs
from the cramps. I shifted to a high
gear and applied as much pressure as I could to the pedals which flexed the
muscles just enough to alleviate the cramps for now. But I knew it was just buying time. I could no longer get out of the saddle on
the climbs and was forced to stay seated and just grind low gears up. I was at my end and I knew it. Finally on one of the numerous muddy hills I
lost contact with the guy in front and could not force my legs to bridge back
up. Sadly I watched my group pedal away
and I was left all alone in no mans land.
It’s a sad feeling when you know your race is over but
quickly your mind changes into survival mode.
Now I was fighting just to finish.
I looked down and had less than 10 miles to go. To me at the time it felt like an
eternity. I fell into my rhythm and
continued to soldier on. My cramps got
worse and when the second bout hit me I couldn’t pedal any more. I had to pull over to the side of the road. I tried to stand but my legs were locked in a vice front and back. All I
could do was sit on my top tube and try and wait for them to pass. After about two minutes I was able to get
back on the bike and pedal forward again.
I forgot that I had saved a sugary snack for the end and quickly ate this
last little morsel of nutrition. It
worked and in around 10 minutes I could feel the effects of the nutrition and
the bonk fading. 2 miles from the finish
I started to think about how it would end when suddenly a large group swamped
me. It was the remnants from another
chase group that had been following me the whole time as I suffered on my
own.
Not wanting to get dropped by
another group of 20 riders I applied as much pressure as I could to stay with the group. My legs were
cramping all over but I just kept mashing the pedals. I went to the front of my new group and knew
we were going to be sprinting. On the
run into town I had memorized the final turns and knew them like the back of my
hand. I knew there was a sharp left just
before the finish and that the race would be decided BEFORE that turn and not
after. On the second to last turn I took
it wide and accelerated for all I had left and pushed past the leaders until I
was out front. Immediately we went into
the final left and I was sprinting for all I had. I knew I was going to win the sprint now and
as I got close to the line I made the second mistake of the race. I eased off just enough and just at the line
got caught by not one but three other riders.
Bam, Bam, Bam. I had lost 3
places. I was extremely disappointed to
make such an amateur mistake.
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| Post-Race Photo |
As we coasted to a stop I saw the bunch of guys that I’d
been with a majority of the race. They
looked pretty beat up and I knew that it wasn’t just me feeling it that
day. I sat down and felt the cramps slowly
leave my legs. I congratulated my coach
Mike who had taken 2nd in his race.
With nothing more to do I sat a bit until I felt I could
pedal again and made my way back to the car.
Changing was tough because I was sore all over, from head to toe. My feet were soaked from being drenched in
numerous puddles and I was covered in mud from head to toe. The wind picked up and I got chilled. I was completely drained of all energy and
sore from head to toe but felt a huge sense of accomplishment that I’d finished
the race and done absolutely everything I could. I left it all out there.
In looking back I’m happy with the ride. I rode to the limit until I absolutely
couldn’t do it anymore. Turns out it was
about 30 minutes to short on this day. My
bike preparation and planning were perfect and I wouldn’t make any changes to
my choice of bike, wheels, tires, or clothing.
If I had to do anything I’d have taken a few more gels and another
bottle but I’m not sure if it would have helped. It was the longest race I’d ever done both in
time and distance so it was a learning experience mentally and physically. Sometimes that is just as much a win as
standing on a podium.
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