When the butterflies stay..

80km Metro road race at Castlemaine. 80ks?? Having only started training less than 4 months ago, an 80k race was a big feat. The number 80 itself was enough to bring out the butterflies.

The week leading up to the race, I checked out the start list. 8 elite women in my category - only 8 of us. I knew more than half of them had tonnes of experience - VIS cyclists, Tour of Bright winners, Oceanias, National RRs - more butterflies. And there was me. This information overload brought along inferiority, nervousness, doubt and butterflies - lots and lots of butterflies. I was worried sick.

And so the day finally arrived. Early morning drizzle. I was down with a slight chesty cough again - lots of germs flying around the office floor meant I still hadn't fully recovered. And I couldn't help feeling nervous. Really really nervous.

I arrived early at the race. But I really wasn't my usual self that day. Too much thinking. Not trusting my instincts. But I still wanted to race. I wanted to give it my best shot.

As the race kicked off, my mates cheered me on from the side. I forced a smile - trying to hide the nervousness within. The first couple of k's went pretty smoothly with the old timers chatting to each other. An early attack at about the 10k mark was quickly brought back by the bunch - thus ending the chatting and everyone starting to play the game. Another attack split the group momentarily, though I managed to jump on and the bunch quickly rejoined.

Trying to play the safe game, I was soon pushed right to the back of the peloton. And another attack. Somehow I lost concentration, and was soon stuck behind a rider who didn't counter-attack. This attack split the peloton with 5 of them going off the front, and 3 of us in the middle, and 1 rider dropped behind. I waited. Waited. No reaction. I rolled to the front. Tried to chase, pushed hard on the pedals - but where had all my energy gone to?? I could barely push down on those pedals.

The last rider soon caught up to us, and we rolled turns to chase down the peloton in front. I knew something wasn't right about my body today - I could barely pull a proper turn while up on the front. I wasn't riding my usual self.

Rolling past the 24k mark where the crowd was, the peloton up front had about a 30s lead. The 3 of us tried working together, but somehow I just couldn't pull a turn. I took a quick glance at my computer, we weren't going that quick, but I was struggling that day.

As we got onto the first pinchy hill, I was off the back. I tried convincing myself - it wasn't all that steep, it's not that long. I changed to my easiest gear trying to rev up - didn't work. Harder gear - tried to punch my way through - didn't work either. I was breathing really really hard. My gut was hurting. And I blacked out. A split second shut down. I quickly opened my eyes - my heart was racing, my mind was racing - but I was no longer in the game. I dropped further and further back, and soon I could barely push over the pedals. I had hit a wall. A massive massive wall. I fought back tears that had just swelled up in my eyes.

The 2 other riders soon realised that I would be of no use and continued on. I was reving so slow that they probably thought that I had thrown the towel. And I was thirsty. Really really thirsty. I soon realised my mistake - I had overloaded on the glucose in my drink (thinking it would have made me faster – wrong!). I had hit a massive glucose drop. It had the total opposite effect to my intentions.

I looked down at my comp. 30ks..another 50ks to go. The roads were quiet. Not a soul in sight. The urge to turn back was so easy - I wasn't that far from the start/finish line. But I really did not want a DNF next to my name. I wasn't ready to give up. And I rode on.

30ks soon became 40ks. With the 2nd part being a 56km loop - well doing the math, the 52k mark was the point of no return. A few cars zoomed past. I had already lost sight of the riders in front. I was out alone. My left and right brain was in a constant battle. One said to go on, one said to just give up. The better one won - I had managed to convince myself that riding 50ks alone wasn't that bad. It's just like the rides where I had missed the bunch and had to chase them down, sometimes catching them, and sometimes never seeing them till we met at the cafe. Same thing.

Finally I saw a marshal waiving a flag signalling me to turn left. Phew, finally a person in sight. I passed him. And I was off alone again.

The next 40ks was like a love hate relationship. One minute I’d love the game, the next minute I’d be left wondering why I was doing this. Having never ridden the course before I wasn’t sure if I was going in the right direction. For miles there’d be no cars. Quiet. Surreal. I’d see a turnoff to the left – am I going in the right direction? Have I missed the turn off? What if everyone had left? I had no phone, no GPS – nothing. Just me and my bike. A small climb. Then a downhill. I’d ride fast for a while. Then slow down. Am I really still in the race? Should I just enjoy the ride and not bother chasing time? This whole cycle just went on and on for the next 20ks.

Eventually I saw another marshal waving a flag signalling a turn off. I breathed a sigh of relief. They hadn’t dumped me. The last 20ks, there were more people on the course. I hadn’t realise that the elite men were doing the loop twice through and were behind me the whole time. It would probably have been a different mind game had I known.

I finished the race to a big round of applause from the crowd. I finished last, with just over 17 minutes behind the winners. I rode up to the car, and just collapsed in exhaustion. Both physically and mentally. It felt like the whole thing was just a dream. A long long dream.

Nevertheless, the race has changed me. The learning itself was worth every second alone out on those roads. I've come out a much much stronger rider. The limits really are endless. And so I continue on my journey. Constantly looking forward to more races. It's a 3 day tour next up - my first tour! And this time I know - all I have to do is..believe.

A first...and not the last..

Bzz..bzzz...I awoke to a text message from a friend asking if I was going to be racing in the rain. It was freezing that morning, and I was down with a slight cold from a couple of flu bugs flying round the office floor. Riding 62ks in the wet wasn't exactly a nice thought. I wipe the mist off my bedroom window and watched the drizzling rain wet the roads outside. It really wasn't a warming sight - but this is what winter racing is about - and it's only the start of the season! My reply: Yes I'm racing. It's Melbourne - never know with this rain - it could end up ok out there.

The drive out to Lancefield was filled with bouts of rain, and the occasional burst of sunshine. "Look at the trees swaying in that wind - it must be at least 50kmh!" I exclaimed. My coach just started laughing in the car - rain, strong winds - well, at least it's not hailing!

The cold was numbing - and I took longer than ever to get ready. I had trouble deciding what to wear - I had brought pretty much my whole cycling wardrobe along - long knicks, short knicks, short gloves, long gloves, undershirts, thermal shirts etc etc.. I knew I usually warmed up pretty quickly and didn't want to overdress either. I ended up doing my warm up laps with my ski jacket on!

The field was smaller than expected that day as a few people had pulled out due to the rain. Well, it didn't end up raining at all - and we even had the sun out - though 6deg was surely cold! I was shivering at the start line - and was surely glad when they finally let us off.

"A quick chat with team-mate Von before the race" (Photo by Marisa Farrell)

The first km was a small, steady climb - and that was enough to get us nice and warm. An early one-man attack soon got the peloton working together rolling turns. A strong right cross-wind saw us rolling from left to right - a first for me I must say. It did feel really weird to kick off, but a couple of pulls later I soon got the hang of it. As we drew nearer to the solo-er, I threw in a couple of hard pedals pulling the peloton to bridge the gap. We sat on his wheel up the next climb, but soon enough this guy was off on another break again.

50m..100m..200m........400m....I saw this white dot slowly drifting further and further away. Over the top of the climbs he would disappear, and then reappear again. I saw a big downhill section up ahead - I knew this was my chance. I cranked down into my lowest gear, and chased. All I wanted was that wheel out in front. I wasn't sure how many people I was pulling along, but knew I had managed to split the peloton up. The next mini climb I attacked again - and soon it was just 2 of us chasing him down.

I finally caught his wheel, and by this time we were in a 3 man break. I did a quick look back and saw no one else behind. I knew the peloton would be trying to chase us - and after taking a few steady breaths, I quickly signalled for him to work together to roll turns. The cross-wind was really strong out the back of the course, and each time I was out pulling a turn, I could barely hold my bike in a straight line. The 3rd man was just sucking on our wheels, and pushing the pace a little higher, we soon dropped him.

The next 10 or so k's went through like a blur - we were working really hard to keep the break - I was breathing really hard, I was trying my best to keep my bike upright with the cross-wind, I had a massive stitch in my stomach - I was just hurting all over. But I had one thing in my mind - this guy was strong, and I didn't want to get dropped!! And so I hung on and pulled turns as best as I could. As we turned into a corner at the 25k mark or so - we both sat up, looked back, and knew we had our game sorted. There was no one in sight.

As we continued rolling turns, our focus soon shifted to chasing down the grade in front of us. They had started more than 5 minutes in front of us - but going into the 2nd lap of the course, we soon caught up and overtook the few single strays at the back of the next grade. It felt like a rat race - and the feeling of passing each rider was really good. We continued working together - and soon learned each others strengths, using them to our advantage. In times like this , your opponent becomes your team-mate - each thinking through ways to beat each other at the line, but yet, never dropping the other one as a 2-man break is always stronger than 1 with who knows how many in the peloton are working together to chase us down.

With about 7 or so ks to go, we finally managed to catch up with the 2nd bunch of 6 riders in the next grade up. It was certainly a welcoming sight to see a bunch of riders together. I knew my opponent was a stronger rider than me, and the sprint finish was up a hill. I tried to get my brains cracking on endless possible ways to beat him.

Going into the final climb, I got out of the saddle and attacked. I reved as hard as could, passed the bunch we had caught and sprinted for the finish. I crossed the line - and it took a whole minute for it to sink in - I had won this race!! As the warm blood rushed through my body, every bit of pain encoutered along the way just washed away. The training, the desire, the believe - all of it compressed into the second at the finish line, and the world seemed to come to halt momentarily. The sweet feeling of winning.... the first of the firsts just brings new confidence, new desires, new goals....the first, and definitely not the last.

"A huge smile with my first win" (Photo by Von Micich)

Amongst giants...

A 2 week break off the bike was good. Went to Perth to compete at the masters national swimming competition. Had an awesome time bonding with my swim team mates, weather was fantastic and winning 2 gold medals with the swim relay team made the trip all that much sweeter.

Amongst giants..

Already starting to the miss the adrenaline of racing, I signed up for my first road race of the season out at Calder Park. Being my first race in a Mixed category, I was pretty nervous going into the race.

I woke up to a very chilly Saturday morning (well, chilly enough for my warm blooded body) and tried to gobble down some hot porridge without burning my tongue. Arriving an hour earlier at the course meant I had more than enough time for a couple of warm up laps, and do a little scouting for wind directions.

The race kicked off at a fairly moderate pace with everyone trying to get a feel of the bunch. The two or so attempted breakaways failed to materialise as the solo-ers soon realised that it was better to stay with the peloton into the strong headwind up the back straight, especially with a sharp little rise in the middle.

The race had points awarded for 3 intermediate sprints. As the bell rung signalling the first intermediate sprint on the next lap, the pace immediately jumped right up. This being my first road race, I decided to remain conservative and not put maximum effort into the first sprint. Coming in about 6th wheel, I immediately spotted out the sprinters in the bunch and kept an eye out for them.

The next intermediate sprint was a little more chaotic with everyone wanting a spot at the front of the peloton. Shouts of 'hold your line!" resonated through the peloton especially going into the corners. I attempted a sprint but could only manage 5th wheel. Nevertheless, I had not reached maximum effort at the sprint line and my speed carried me past the front sprinters.

Before I knew it, someone behind me shouted "Come on - we've dropped the sprinter!" And I attacked hard - carrying most of the bunch with me. At this point, we managed to drop the few stragglers at the back of the bunch and the top sprinter. I continued to roll turns with the top few riders of the peloton ensuring we had a decent breakaway.

Having done quite a bit of work at the front - my legs were starting to feel heavy. I immediately dropped to the back of the peloton in an attempt to spin out the lactic acid in my legs. The 3rd sprint left riders strung across the road, but I was determined to not get dropped. I immediately reached into my back pocket for some food, and pretty soon had my energy stores right back up.

By this time the pace of the peloton had jumped right up. I found myself at the top of the peloton and had to chase down the 2 breaks. At this stage, I had already lost count of the number of laps we had left. My bike computer had also bonked, and I had no idea how fast I was going. All I was concentrating on was to not let anyone off on their own.

Final bell lap - another big jump in the pace. 2.3kms to go - we all knew it was the crux. I managed to get into 8th wheel going into the final corner. With just over 300m to go, I cranked my gears down and dug hard into the pedals. I passed a few riders and came eye to eye with the 3rd place rider.

Sprinting for the finish..

I pushed even harder...I crossed the line, and I screamed. A scream of excitement, of happiness, of contention, or maybe just to let out whatever carbon dioxide I had built up in me. I had come in 3rd place amongst the men. I was grinning from ear to ear for the rest of the day. It was a major confidence booster to continue chasing my cycling dreams. Bring on the winter road season!

Grinning all over..