Blustery, Southernly Winds of Hell
Cycling Road Race: 44 miles

Much to my chagrin, road racing in Oklahoma has really gone over to crits. There are endless practice series, major events, and one day affairs, but sadly, there are only now 2 official road races left - Tallchief and Eucha. Both of which are wonderfully hilly, powerfully hard courses. I have a deep affection for each; in past years, I've even performed relatively well at them.

Tallchief's course was modified this year. What was before a longer, 20-ish mile loop with 3 giant climbs was now a shorter, faster sub-15 mile loop that still managed to pack a punch and retain plenty of climbing, replacing that last, single giant climb with several smaller, but brutal rollers. Different, but still good.

Oh, and there was wind. Sooooo much wind.




I saved registering for the last possible moment, but when I did I was thrilled to discover that the women's fields were huge this year (well, huge for Oklahoma anyway.) Almost 40 ladies in total. Most in the Cat 4s, but the Cat 1/2/3 race actually had 12 racers this year (3-5 was the norm), most of whom I didn't even know! I hope this meant good things for OK.

#foreverbutts

The Race

Did I mention the wind? 40-mile-an-hour gusting, unrelenting, soul-sucking wind. It was blowing up from the South (aka the direction we were mostly headed) and a bit West. Fucking brutal.

The race starts on the Dam Climb, about a half a mile of fun at 6-8% which also serves as the race finish, meaning that no matter what, you always get to climb the Dam Climb one extra time during your race. It then turns immediately South and heads into the winds.

The field of 1/2/3 stayed pretty together. After the first few climbs out of the Dam, Katy B actually led a fairly smart move of pushing hard into the wind, but right up along the yellow line. Since the winds were from the South and West, this meant that no one could get much draft having to line up single file behind.

I managed to surprise myself by staying with the front group of riders through the first few climbs and most of this hellish straightaway. Good, maybe my fitness isn't godawful.

Helene, teammate and badass extroardinnaire

Chelsea, our new teammie in the 4s - ain't she a cutie!? Here is she is soloing ahead her field.

Then it happened. Or I guess I let it happen. I'm still not sure what I should have done.

Some random chica (no idea who - don't even recognize the kit) decided she didn't like the fact that I had passed her earlier to get in on the break, so she pulls around my right, hard, and manages to mostly catch onto the front wheel. I'm now completely trapped slightly back between her and the yellow line. A second later, I see that she has just hit her limit, and dies, losing the wheel in front of her.

I now have a choice to make. I yell at her, angry that she's losing the wheel, and pushing me back with her. She won't back up enough so that I can catch back on, and I can't pass her without crossing the yellow line.

Many more seconds later, I finally make the choice to brake, come around behind her and to her right, and then chase and try to catch back on. I could have pushed around the yellow - there was much controversy that day in many of the fields about riders who did just that to keep themselves in the breaks - but I chose not to. I probably could have pushed at her hip to move her over, but I didn't feel comfortable pushing someone who might potentially not have the handling skills to stay upright and float over to the right.

So I lost the break. And began time trialing my way to catch back on.

At this point, my Garmin was already telling me that my average power had been at threshold. And now I had to push past even that if I had a hope of catching back on.

I fought hard to do so. I just nearly managed it, twice! But each time the break got their act together and started pulling hard again, and one woman solo in winds like I faced stands no chance against a group actually working.

Eventually, I fell back into Nancy K, who somehow remained positive that we could get them (we couldn't, but I really did admire her positive attitude and relentless spirit - I really needed it that day). Shay B also joined our little group, and for much of the remaining race, we 3 chased, and fought, and buoyed each other through the wind.

Eventually we caught Ariel W, though I couldn't really tell you when or on what loop because I was nearly out of my mind with fatigue (though I'll venture it was somewhere at the end of the second lap). She sorta worked with us till the end.

I was cornering awfully (of course). The run up South into the Dam Climb had two corners, and I told Nancy that I would just let her get me. I thought she deserved it. That attitude kept us all from quitting. Besides, she could easily out corner my ass anyway. I thought I might get past Shay, who just was not having a good day health wise, but she managed to rally to sprint way past me. Even Ariel decided to go for it at the end.

I just gave no fucks anymore. By the time the Dam Climb was under my legs, all I did was climb it. No pushing. No fighting. No big efforts. Just a grin on my face that I had survived that day and pushed past every instinct in my body to quit.

My face was windburnt. My legs ached. My back was spasming. My Garmin said that I had just pushed for 44 miles at sweet spot intensity. But I had survived, and in my mind, won an important mental victory.

Addendum...

Mentally and physically, I don't know if I was quite ready for this year's race.

Physically, base season was long and slow, and my build phase had only begun a few weeks ago. I had just begun feeling like I was getting my legs back under me, and was pretty unsure how I would fare against a field of riders who had been hitting the bike a lot harder than me.

Mentally, I had been pretty wiped out after Worlds. I didn't even realize the extent of it until December, or maybe even January. The absolute dedication I gave to building up for that event had taken a toll on me; lately, I had been really struggling to find a way to drive myself again that hard. It's been especially difficult to connect back to my bike, although almost ironically, I find myself zenning out more and more with my run lately.

With bike fitness below where I'd like, and mental excitement equivalent to "meh," I decided to skip on the opportunity to participate in the Pace Bend/Walburg road races hosted down in Texas the prior weekend, and saved Tallchief for this year's opener. I welcomed the thought of being back on familiar ground at a race I loved, and hoped that using it as my opener would rejuvenate my cycling spirit.

While I can't say for absolute certainty that this year's race did that, that it made me excited about road racing again, surviving that wind challenge with just a few other women did give me some strong mental encouragement that maybe I'm not as weak as I've been feeling. And that if I really keep digging deep down, maybe I'll hit upon gold again and find that sweet spot of pain and pleasure that keeps moving my legs forward, one pedal stroke at a time.