Cycling in the Ozarks.

It had been a harrowing semester, averaging less than 7 hours of sleep a night, work days packed down to the minute, schedule so tight I had to keep reminding myself to breathe. After all that, spring break this year came highly anticipated, and gave me the chance to restore both my mind and my body.

Mizzou road race

As soon as classes ended, our team drove out to Springfield, MO for the weekend’s races at Missouri State. The road course on Saturday was a 35-mile loop over rolling hills with one long, steep climb. I stayed with the front group for the first 20 miles or so, until a false flat left me winded and paired with a rider from Depauw.

I should have dropped her the moment she started complaining about the climbs, but something made me decide to stay with her in case we could work together to chase the front. That was a mistake that cost me a better finish, and I consider it a lesson learned. “Race your race”, as they say. I finally left her behind on the big climb, and spent the rest of the race trying to make up for lost time. I finished fourth.

Quite proud of this photo of Naveen's finish.

Mizzou ITT and TTT

I hate individual time trials, mostly because I suck at them. Sunday’s weather was a biting cold, and I spent the 20km devoid of any motivation to be fast. The team time trial was a smidgeon better; my teammate Hope and I enjoyed being the uncontested champions, being the only group in our category to race.

We spent the rest of the day driving to northwest Arkansas, right in the Ozark mountain range. The 16 of us made ourselves at home in our two side-by-side cabins.

Arkansas Day 1:

Cold, wet, miserable weather. I decided to take the day off the bike, and explore the surrounding woods with Becky, Doza, Chris, and Stephen.

The evening ended with a bonfire, s’mores, and a good soak in the hot-tub.

Arkansas Day 2:

Summary: Petit Jean and Mount Nebo, 65 miles, 3000 feet of climbing

Eight of us (Naveen, Stephen, Doza, Cortez, Erik, Branden, Becky) drove 1.5 hours to the town of Dardanelle, and from there started a 50-mile ride that looped us through mostly flat terrain with one 3-mile climb over Petit Jean. The pace was good; I sat in behind the boys and cruised, silently thanking them for the cycling chivalry.

Finished with the “warm-up” 50 miles, most of us continued onto the looming Mount Nebo. I’d heard stories, and I was afraid. 23 percent grade? 18 switchbacks? Pros having to get off and walk? They were all true. If there could be sorrier excuses for climbing a mountain on a bike, I’d like to hear them. I was heaving and hawing, stopping to push my bike, yelling profanities, and sinking with despair every time I saw yet another switchback. When I finally got to the top, I was so angry with myself I simply couldn’t enjoy the feeling of getting there. I felt like I had cheated, like the summit wasn’t really a success, like I had lost a psychological battle with the mountain.

On the lookout. I'm not too happy.

The descent was extremely hairy. I gripped my brakes the entire way, leaned my butt far back over the saddle, and prayed my arms and my focus wouldn’t give out. I’ll be back, Nebo, next time with the bragging rights I failed to achieve this time around.

The Nebo group.

Arkansas Day 3:

Today was a rest day to finish up some schoolwork. Becky and I drove to a nearby town to do laundry, and spent most of the afternoon at a McDonald’s for internet. I have to say, backcountry Arkansas is like a foreign country. I swear that cashier has never had anyone ask if they have Wifi. Ever.

The weather was too nice to pass up a ride. Our cabin was located on top of a mountain, so Becky and I decided to descend the mountain and then climb back up. To the east lay Lake Fort Smith. To the south lay the small town of Mountainburg (population 682). We first took the descent to the lake, climbed back up, then descended into town, and climbed back up again, making about 25 miles of riding total. The climbs were enjoyable – long, steady inclines.

In the evening, Becky and I cooked a delicious dinner of pork chops, browned then simmered with onions, mushrooms, and apples.

Later that night, Naveen, Matt, Chris, and I drove down to Lake Fort Smith and plunged headfirst into the freezing cold water. A shrieking, invigorating good time.

Arkansas Day 4:

Summary: Mount Magazine, 40 miles total

Hour-long drive to the town of Paris. From there, we began a gradual incline for 15 miles to the base of Mount Magazine. Once the climb started, the seven of us (Naveen, Doza, Stephen, Chris, Erik, Wil) split off into groups. I went at my own steady pace, feeling the tailwind push me up the mountain, hardly noticing the miles go by, so focused I was on keeping my breathing and pedal stroke smooth. I met Erik and Wil at the top, the highest point in Arkansas.

The descent was brilliant. Erik and Wil are powerhouses, and I used that to my advantage. I locked myself onto their wheels and flew down the mountain, sustaining breakneck speeds. I never once touched my brakes, and felt completely in tune with my handling, rounding the curves in the road, and staying locked on. It was indescribable, truly one of the best moments of my short cycling career.

After getting back, we headed straight to the lake, soaked our tired legs in the icy water, and enjoyed the sunshine.

Arkansas Day 5:

Summary: Oklahoma border, 75 miles, rolling hills

Five of us (Matt, Stephen, Erik, Branden) set out from our cabin for the Oklahoma border. The scenery was beautiful and rustic – chipped barns, old houses, white-washed picket fences, cows, horses, and annoying yappy dogs that tried to bite our heels at every corner. The terrain was all big rolling hills with not an inch of flat road.

Legs feeling dead from all the accumulated miles, Branden and I sat back after reaching Oklahoma and went the rest of the way at a relaxed pace. The last five-mile climb back up to our cabin was painful. I had maxed out my legs, and they did not thank me for rounding off a long, hilly ride with a mountain.

Still, there are few things sweeter than the feeling of tiredness that comes with quality miles, and few things to make a person more content than to take a brief pause from worldly responsibilities to do nothing but sleep, eat, ride, and repeat. Already looking forward to next year.

A video.

A teammate's roommate, a film major, came out to a couple races this season with the idea of making a short film of us for a class. As it turned out, his theme was about females and minorities in sport, and there's quite a bit of me in there.

I suppose I didn't say anything too embarrassing. The interview was an hour long and was conversational enough for me to forget I was being interviewed.



For the record, yes, I know that "you go so much faster on a bike than when you run" is a rather obvious statement, and no, contrary to the last line, I don't settle for mediocrity given all the people out there better than I am. I wince a little at some of these comments, but nevertheless, this video makes me recall with fondness all those race weekends that were the highlight of this year.

The day I discovered chamois butter.

Today was Chicago-based team XXX's three-state ride. The intended route consisted of riding north to Wisconsin, back to Chicago, south to Indiana, and back up to Chicago. It was apparent by mile 20 that the goals of completing the ride were ambitious.

This is the whole route. I started and ended at Northwestern.

My teammates Alex and Aaron accompanied me today. We started out at a no-drop pace typical of XXX's usual Saturday morning rides, with about 50 people. We took a pit-stop at Highland Park (mile 12), and the group split up. We were left with about 25 people going to Wisconsin, and from there the pace really picked up. The group was going anywhere from 22-25mph most of the time, and I was sure they would slow down when people realized how much farther we had to ride. Uh, nope.

At around mile 20, I got caught at a long light, and had to pace back with three very Euro-looking guys. I was just about to shoot myself for getting popped so soon, but we caught up to the group just in time. After that it was smooth going all the way to the state line.

The ride was gorgeous on the way up. Instead of taking dicey Sheridan Rd north, we went west, and looped around the more rural roads of northern Illinois. Few cars, good roads, expansive fields, hay bales, horses, even rolling hills! However, the different route also meant that at any point in the ride, I had absolutely no idea where I was, which was further incentive to stick tightly to the group.

I fell behind the main group a few times, especially when they accelerated on the windy sections, but there were always stragglers around me to help catch back up. I made sure to keep Aaron and Alex in sight, and tried to stay in the front third for buffer in case I fell back. Also, red lights are good to me.

We stopped at mile 50 for an arrival break at a gas station, where chamy butter proceeded to brighten my appreciation for life. Chafing cured, we turned around to go home, keeping the same brisk pace, taking the less-scenic Sheridan all the way down.

The ride back was uneventful, save for a crash in a gnarly turn before Highland Park. Our own Alex took the turn too wide, but graceful as he is, managed to land in the grass, very much like a cat, with not a scrape. Another rider wasn't as lucky but got back on. We three NU riders left the group and rode back ourselves from Highland Park, and Alex and I rewarded our 87 mile day with the best part about cycling: lots of food, with hot sauce of course.

Today's challenging but glorious miles upped my standards, and reminded me why I love cycling more than I've loved anything for a while. Next chance I get, I'm going to break the 100-mile mark.

Cycling spring break.

Saturday
Notre Dame road race: three laps of a 10-mile loop with a good-size hill that dropped me further back each time. Not a great result, but it was my first B-race, so I didn't have many expectations anyway. Following the race, we drove the rest of the day to Georgia. Got lost on the way and finally arrived at 5am, exhausted.

Sunday
Easy 35-mile recon ride to initially scope out the area. Realized quickly that flats don't exist, just rolling hills. Even the highways in Blairsville seem like heaven compared to the ugly pothole riding in Evanston.

Monday
Large group ride, all fifteen of us. 58 miles total, including a 4-mile climb up Neel's Gap. Already I'm learning how to shift more smoothly and what climbing style suits my body best, as well as how to descend with more control. By drafting a heavier rider down a descent, I managed to reach 44.1mph.

Tuesday
Eight of us completed a 35-mile route that took us over three gaps: Neels Gap, Woody Gap, and Wolf Pen Gap. The latter two climbs have been in the Tour de Georgia, and we could still see painted names of pro riders on the roads. I'm starting to understand the rhythm of climbing.

Wednesday

28-mile recovery ride. Legs and butt so very sore.

Thursday
Last day in Georgia, all of us drove out to the famous Brasstown Bald mountain. Highest peak in Georgia, 2.5 miles of a beyond-category climb. The fog was so thick that it felt like I was riding right into the clouds. I went so slowly that it took me over half an hour to get up, but the feeling of reaching the summit was unbeatable.

Friday
Loaded up all the cars, said goodbye to the dear cabin, and drove all day to Michigan.

Pictures from Georgia: one, two, three.

Saturday
Michigan State road race: four laps of a 5-mile loop. I was unable to mark an early attack by a strong UChicago girl, so I spent the majority of the race chasing the front group with my teammate Emma. We efficiently shared the work and managed to stave off the rest of the pack behind us, placing 9th and 10th.


Sunday
UMichigan circuit race: six laps of a 2.2-mile loop. Damn UChicago girl again attacked up the first hill. Like an idiot, I chased her hard for a lap, and then was so out of breath that I immediately dropped back the next lap. Still, I finished with my teammate Hannah in 5th and 6th place.

Pictures from the race weekend: one, two, three, four

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Spring break in Georgia introduced me to swallowing pain. I surprised myself every day with how I could continue going up and up despite the hurting. Knowing that my body can take much more than I think it can is a confidence-booster that I will use to hammer away at the remaining races this season.

Bike-racing is beautiful in its unpredictability and its vast room for improvement. There are lessons gained with each race that I do -- tactical lessons, as well as physical and mental ones. I feel like I'm nowhere near hitting my potential with racing, and that is huge incentive to keep learning and keep moving up. The end of this year will not be the end of my racing endeavors.

Riding bikes aside, spending time with my teammates made spring break so very memorable. We laughed hard and much, ate a lot, learned about each other, encouraged each other, suffered with each other, and enjoyed beautiful rides and different places together. These people are dear to me.

So sad to see the week end.

Depauw race.

(All photos by Clara, and the rest can be seen here or here.)

Road race on Saturday. I was looking forward to this immensely as my first experience of road racing.

Start of the road race with a pileup. All of my teammates
remained upright. Left to right: Emma, Hannah, me, Axie.

I hung towards the front of the pack with my teammates until three miles in, when there was a crash on a descent, which broke up the group into chunks. I dodged the crash, but also lost the front group, so I stuck with Emma. Two miles later, my chain became irretrievably lodged and knotted around my crank when I tried to shift down in front, and much to my frustration, I had to stop. It later took four people to get my chain out. Fucking bike.

Axie and Hannah were both in the initial crash. Axie somehow lost her shoes, which made for a hilarious story, although this meant that she and Hannah spent the next 20 miles in no-man's land, hammering away with no cover, trying to gain lost time. Valiant effort.

Lots of crashes in the sketchy men's D race, three for Greg here.

Men's A started with a breakaway that neither Will nor Josh could catch. Will spent the whole time in a chase, then solo-ed the last 10 miles, coming in 7th. Josh hung with the pack, and finished top 20 with a field sprint into a headwind.

Clara pulling hard trying to move up in the pack, eventually finishing in a top 10. She followed a sprint attack a full 300 meters from the finish.

A lot of the day was spent watching races and hearing recaps in the cargo van. I love these guys. A candid video here:

Saturday evening was the team time trial. TTT's are composed of groups of 2-4 riders. Teams roll out one-by-one, are timed against the clock, and times are compared afterwards. The finishing time is measured by the second rider across the line.

The course was a flat 5-mile out-and-back course, with a tailwind there and a strong headwind back. We girls team had done a pacelining practice a couple days before the race, which felt smooth and comfortable, but the windy conditions on Saturday made us nervous.

Starting off: me, Axie, Emma, Hannah

The pace on the way out was steady and brisk, 20-23, but the way back was brutal. Following the turn back, our paceline became broken as we struggled against the wind. I dropped off with a mile or more to go, both because we only needed two to finish, and because the wind was making it difficult for me to maintain the draft. Emma dropped off a bit later, and Hannah and Axie took the finish for a win over the competing Depauw.

The TTT will take some more practice, both individually and as a unit.

I opted out of the criterium on Sunday, due to my still-fresh wounds (check 'em out!) from a ride this past Thursday. The race was impossible anyway. Unbelievable wind gusts of up to maybe 30-40mph plus spotty rain made biking riding difficult.

I have strong teammates, which is a huge motivation to get better myself. Race weekends are fun, yes, but I do need to get more serious about improving, moving up in the pack, learning some tactics, and dealing with suffering. I want to improve as my teammates improve. I'm not as athletically aggressive as I need to be in order to consistently hang with the people in front, and I frequently allow negative psychology to get in the way of doing what I could otherwise manage.

There are two clear-cut aspects to competitive cycling. The obvious is the physical and mental aspects that allows you to hurt but still provide power over an hour or more of racing. The other is how to race intelligently: where to be in the pack, when to be in front, and when to follow, how much effort to give and when. Poor tactical choices make for inefficient riding and could take a race away from the fittest rider. At this point, I'm not the strongest, and I'm not very smart. These shortcomings will take work and much more experience to solve, but I am patient.

I had a conversation with Will this weekend, in which he described to me his road race not in terms of how his legs hurt or lungs burned, but in terms of what, tactically, he was thinking while he raced. It occurred to me that I think more about the former rather than the latter, and that is precisely what I need to change.

MSU Race.

This weekend was too much fun. Summary: First place on Saturday. Ass handed to me on Sunday. Read on.

Our team loaded up four cars and made the drive to Kentucky on Friday. We didn't make it to our Super 8 until after midnight, at which point we set our alarms for 6:45am and promptly went to bed.

typical hotel room of a cycling team -- bikes and parts everywhere

Bike races are divided up into different categories, starting with Cat A as the most advanced. Out of reluctance to race 32 miles in the horrid weather, or perhaps just out of nervousness, I opted to race the short 16-mile Intro category. This was a big mistake. I ended up winning the thing with little effort, and so didn't learn anything about road race tactics. I stayed with one girl the entire way, and out-sprinted her to the finish.

pre-race, when I was still dry

The course consisted of a lot of rolling hills through scenic Kentucky countryside, which would have been beautiful had I not been soaked to the bone with freezing rain. The cold seeped into my core, and it took me at least two hours afterwards before I could stop shivering.

Since my race was first, I spent the rest of the day watching the other races and supporting my teammates. Here's a (poorly-shot) video of one of our Cat A guys coming in an impressive 4th.

Back to the hotel, nap, dinner at a pizza place, hotel, massage train, bedtime.

Sunday was the crit, or criterium. These types of races are held on short courses for a specified period of time, rather than distance. Ours was less than a mile long, and snaked around a parking lot with over a dozen corners. Add some finicky bike handlers and some nervous riding to that technical course, and you're just asking for crashes. People went down left and right.

I came out tired, but thankfully unscathed. Not wanting to make the same mistake twice, I rode in the Cat B/C race this time, which had some really strong riders who dominated the race from the start. I was lapped mid-race, but I hardly noticed because the short course was soon strung out end to end with riders.

I started the crit with no expectations, so I really enjoyed myself, despite wanting to die everytime I hit the windy and uphill stretch of the course. For starters, it was really good cornering practice. It took me a while to get used to whipping around the corners, but by the end of 30 minutes, I had stopped braking altogether. I consider that a success.

me and mah girlz, post-race on Saturday

Following the crit, we loaded up, grabbed food, and drove back home to snowy Evanston.

I love being on this team. It gives me so much to look forward to : Depauw race next week, spring break in Georgia, four or five more races after that. I only spent about two hours racing this weekend, and the rest of it was spent lolling about with great people. Collegiate cycling is something I now wish I had started from day one. What took me so long?

The Recyclery.

The Recyclery, as I've written before, is a non-profit bike coop located on the south side of Evanston. Volunteers collect used and trashed bicycles, fix them, and then give them back to the community.

The back of the shop is filled with dusty bikes just waiting for some love.

Since the beginning of the quarter, I've been visiting the Recycling every Sunday afternoon to overhaul my own commuter bike. With the help of two instructors, Sharlyn and John (shown here), I reassembled and adjusted one part of my bike each week - derailleurs, bottom bracket, headset, shifters, wheel hubs, brakes, etc.

There were only four students, so I received a lot of feedback on my progress, and even had my own workstation with a full array of tools.

Here I am at the last class, putting a few final adjustments on my brake tension, accompanied by the shop dog.

There are few things more satisfying to me than getting my hands greasy and understanding the intricate ways in which each part works together. The bicycle is a precision instrument, and that is reflected in the attention to detail required for it to run as it should. There is no way of understanding these details until you take it apart and see it happen.

I rode my bike home today, and I could really feel all the improvements that I had made on it. These are skills I'll keep for a long time.

Bicycle bicycle bicycle.

It's about time I had another endorphin-high-I-love-my-bicycle post.

When the weather climbed to 35 this afternoon, I jumped at the chance to ride with some teammates. It was the first time I had ridden with a group since November, and needless to say, it took me a few miles to adjust to outside conditions and bike handling.

Today was a test run of the results of my winter training. I've spent the last couple of months on the trainer or in the gym four to five times a week, working mainly on muscle strength and core stability. A weekly long run on the treadmill constituted my endurance workout.

The lack of endurance training showed today on the ride. For the first half of our 25 miles, I felt like my heart was going to pop out of my chest, had trouble maintaining the draft of the rider in front, and felt a really strong push to take a spin break despite only a moderate speed.

I could blame this on a strange physiological idiosyncracy of mine. Last fall, I had my max heartrate tested, which involved strapping a heart-rate monitor on me and recording my heartrate as I exercised. For most people, their heartrates will gradually increase and then plateau off as they exercise at increasing intensities. My heartrate spiked up in the first half of the exercise session, then came down, went back up, and then plateaued off.

That directly translates to how I feel on rides. I feel like dying during the first part, but if I can make myself get through that period, the rest is a breeze (relatively speaking).

This heartrate quirk would also explain the successful second half of today's ride. We kept the pace between 20-24mph, and not only was this speed sustainable, I felt incredible. We assumed a paceline position -- one rider directly behind another, locking into each other's drafts and never letting go -- and booked it all the way home.

Moral of the story: provided I can will myself through the first portion of the ride, I feel stronger than I was in the fall, and I think I will be ready to try racing next month. Between now and then, I will need to think about how I can work with my heartrate problem, and align my body so I hit my cruising heartrate right when I need it.

But that is just my heartrate. My legs, though, my legs feel good. Thank you, plyometrics, and stairmaster, and Chris Charmichael's Train Right DVD.

Also, team kits came in, and they look snazzy! Two bib shorts, a short-sleeve and long-sleeve jersey, and a cycling cap. I can't wait to finally don school colors on the next ride.