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.
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