Race #3 Sandia Crest

Thanks to my recent category upgrade, I joined the fellas and 2 women in the cat 3-4 race. The slight difference between it and the other races is a mere 30 miles, which includes the aptly named Heartbreak Hill. The race length is 62 miles with somewhere around 5000 feet of climbing. To make things a little harder, I got a cold (in summer, how ???) in the middle of the week and didn't feel very good until Saturday.



Here I am with the main pack about 15 miles into the race. Note that everyone looks like they can ride very fast. Your eyes are not deceiving you. A group of 6 formed a breakaway early in the canyon. My friend Chris along with 2 Los Alamosians were in it. Fun for them! My hope was to stick with the main group at least until Heartbreak Hill, a hill that has grades of about 20% but is mercifully only 1/4 mile long. I did stick with the group until the hill, and then climbed it at the same pace as two other guys. By working together, we and two others were able to get back to the main pack. I hung on for dear life near the back until about 2 miles before the Crest hill began.

For the race, I carried a banana, a package of choc covered raisins, 1 1/2 peanut butter and honey sandwiches, and 3 water bottles. Two bottles with water and one with gatorade. I finished the gatorade and 1 1/2 water bottles by the start of the Crest, so I assumed that just one more water bottle would be good for me. I grabbed a bottle with a yellow fluid in it from a kind boy in the feed zone and tossed my empty bottles. The Crest climb is only 12 miles, so I thought this would be more than enough. I also thought that the road wasn't very steep.

Riding nearly as fast as one can for 50 miles tends to change one's perspective, but sadly one doesn't always realize it at the time. My legs were very tired at the bottom, so I made the good decision to stop trying to ride with the two guys I was with for the flat miles before the climb. I assumed that my legs would eventually feel pretty good if I took it easy at the bottom. After all, there's plenty of time during a 12 mile, 3000 foot climb to make up time. I did have plenty of time, but my legs never came around.

For about 5 miles, a NMVS rider was about 100 yards ahead of me, with the distance s l o w l y shrinking. I finally caught him at the first steep section after the ski hill, but he was able to ride with me the whole way. Probably on a normal day, he'd be a lot of fun to hang out with. On this day, his main topic of conversation was how foolish it was to spend $30 to do the race. Though we had lots of time, we didn't talk much. Mostly, I was looking at the ground 3 inches in front of my wheel. I also was wishing that I had grabbed another water bottle. I believe you can find the yellow drink at a local store under the label Citrus Nastiness.

Then, there was the 1K to go sign. In a more forgiving race, this is where the pace really picks up. This day, I felt that they meant that there was 1 mile to go. When the finish line was finally in sight, I could hear him upshift to start the "sprint". I did the same, but could not keep up. The battle for 19th place was lost. Good job, Mike!

For those mathematically inclined, here's the word problem of the day. On Heartbreak hill, I was using a 39/29 gear ratio. I estimate that my cadence (pedaling revolutions per minute) was about 30. Assume that my wheel diameter was 27 inches. How fast was I riding? By the way, please don't tell me the answer -- not good for my pride.

Here are my pre-race strategic counselors on the night before the race. Thanks for the encouragement! Sadly, Mrs. Polkadot couldn't join us. Get well soon!