Dan Ellmore at Ellmore Consultancy put together a flash new website for me: www.amydombroski.net
That's the what, and that's the where I'll be doing all my blog updates from here on out. Check it out, come along, lemme know what you think, put it on your favorites.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Saturday, October 17, 2009
pick-up Truck Capital, USA
Welcome to Burrrrmont, pick-up Truck Capital, USA.
As soon as I had a training ride without getting rained on, and a hint of blue sky and shiny sun tapped me on the shoulder, I received a picture from Brother Dan of his snow-covered roof in Boulder. I read updates all over Crackbook and Twatter with the words: snow, cold, winter, miserable, wtf?, epic, real cyclocross weather...and I balked. That same weekend I was in Providence, RI enjoying 60 degrees, cloudless blue skies, and such a powerful sun which I had not seen since the overpowering one in Vegas. Lights, too many lights was a harsh transition to 10 days of getting rained on. So I was in glee when I found out I was on the right side of the country, weather-wise. But weather is fickle. And as soon as my dad and I pulled into our driveway after the weekend of racing, leaves blew the door shut behind us, and with it a stinging nip to the air.
The next morning I awoke in post-race stupor, rubbing my blurry eyes. And rubbing some more and squinting. No, the white on the ground was not snow, but it was indeed the first hard frost. I didn't want to look at the thermometer, but I had to...for the sake of savoring every bit of motivation to actually ride my bike. We have one of those round thermometers, with all the numbers listed and an arrow that points to the temp, like a clock. Half of the round face was covered in frost, but that was ok because it was covering from 30 degrees and warmer. Our little temperature needle was shivering in his boots and holding his finger just above 20. Coffee to my right - I downed a steaming cup right there.
That has been the story for the last 5 days. The good news is that it's been so cold that even the clouds froze and shattered away, leaving us with a fairly clear sky and bits and pieces of the sun. By 11:30a the frost is but a couple droplets of dew. Our little temperature needle has been warmed enough to lift his arm to around 38 or 42, or a massive 45 that I wallowed in today.
Please, I hope you don't think I am complaining. Because an already gorgeous Vermont has reached a level of beauty that can only be achieved in Sainthood. And ya gotta believe me here, because I forgot my camera and my Iphone camera is definitely not designed for capturing Sainthood.
Just as the leaves were hitting peak foliage, the sun decided to come out, and Old Man Winter decided to grace us with his presense. Which means white moutains and vibrant orange, red and green hills made enchanted with the sun lighting our soggy-bottomed green mountain state.
As soon as I had a training ride without getting rained on, and a hint of blue sky and shiny sun tapped me on the shoulder, I received a picture from Brother Dan of his snow-covered roof in Boulder. I read updates all over Crackbook and Twatter with the words: snow, cold, winter, miserable, wtf?, epic, real cyclocross weather...and I balked. That same weekend I was in Providence, RI enjoying 60 degrees, cloudless blue skies, and such a powerful sun which I had not seen since the overpowering one in Vegas. Lights, too many lights was a harsh transition to 10 days of getting rained on. So I was in glee when I found out I was on the right side of the country, weather-wise. But weather is fickle. And as soon as my dad and I pulled into our driveway after the weekend of racing, leaves blew the door shut behind us, and with it a stinging nip to the air.
The next morning I awoke in post-race stupor, rubbing my blurry eyes. And rubbing some more and squinting. No, the white on the ground was not snow, but it was indeed the first hard frost. I didn't want to look at the thermometer, but I had to...for the sake of savoring every bit of motivation to actually ride my bike. We have one of those round thermometers, with all the numbers listed and an arrow that points to the temp, like a clock. Half of the round face was covered in frost, but that was ok because it was covering from 30 degrees and warmer. Our little temperature needle was shivering in his boots and holding his finger just above 20. Coffee to my right - I downed a steaming cup right there.
That has been the story for the last 5 days. The good news is that it's been so cold that even the clouds froze and shattered away, leaving us with a fairly clear sky and bits and pieces of the sun. By 11:30a the frost is but a couple droplets of dew. Our little temperature needle has been warmed enough to lift his arm to around 38 or 42, or a massive 45 that I wallowed in today.
Please, I hope you don't think I am complaining. Because an already gorgeous Vermont has reached a level of beauty that can only be achieved in Sainthood. And ya gotta believe me here, because I forgot my camera and my Iphone camera is definitely not designed for capturing Sainthood.
Just as the leaves were hitting peak foliage, the sun decided to come out, and Old Man Winter decided to grace us with his presense. Which means white moutains and vibrant orange, red and green hills made enchanted with the sun lighting our soggy-bottomed green mountain state.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
If you're coming to Louisville for the USGPs, sign up for the clinic on Thursday...you can get tips from the God of 'Cross himself, Simon Burney, and watch me make a fool outta myself!
Click here to register for the fun!
Monday, October 12, 2009
Prov day 2
Photo credit: Dave McElwaineThanks Dad!
Sunday's course proved to be more technical, as Tom Stevens threw in some more tight turns and off-camber sections. The race quickly split apart with Katerina taking an early lead. A bit of a gap to Mary and a bit of a gap to me. For the first couple laps, there were 10-15 seconds between the three of us. However, with 3 to go I began to fade a bit and my gap to Mary grew as Meredith was inching her way onto my wheel. But the course was more mtb-ey, with less flat, pavement, windified, power sections. Because of this, it was easier to be alone to take your own line, than to be with a group and drafting. Indeed, Meredith was with a group of 3 or 4 others, not really gaining any ground. As soon as she attacked that group, she was able to chew up some distance to me. In the end, no one made contact with anyone in the front 4 riders, yet we all had carrots and chasers to keep us pounding on the pedals. I was pleased with this race because I felt it was an overall solid ride, as I rode strong throughout the entire race, instead of having sections I was stoked on and sections I was suffering on, as was Saturday.
AND THEN, the boys killed it! By the time I was able to get to the pits, I saw that Timmy J and Jamey D were riding away from the field, but Dan was charging hard in fourth. Josh was sitting in 5th or 6th, and eventually the two joined forces. Dan broke free and made his way comfortably to third, however Chris Jones eventually gained this distance back and stole the final podium position. Dan holds strongly onto the Verge NE series jersey and wears it prettily...not sure what his goal is fashion-wise!? Will had a tough start and it wasn't until about halfway through when his legs started to come around. He crushed the second half of his race, moving up from 17th to 8th, right behind Josh.
Photo Credit: Double Hopped
Sunday, October 11, 2009
Providence Cyclocross Festivus
Providence greeted us with blue skies and warm temperatures. After pre-riding on Friday my dad and I visited with some family, Joan and Zane in Somerset, MA, just a half hour outside of Providence.
Photo C: Mark Suprenant
Both day’s courses were designed by Tom Stevens, and were awesomely fun. Saturday’s was fairly similar to that which I remember from 2006 Nationals. Sunday he switched it up a bit, adding even more twisting and tight turns with some more technical challenges. Did I mention the courses were flipping sweet? Seriously, they were like roller coasters, a playground for bike racers. The Providence Cyclocross Festival was also part of Interbike East, so all the hoorahs from Interbike were there. My favorite was the Raw Revolution tent…those bars are sooo tasty. Richard Fries promoted the race and did a splendorific job. I hope to race it again next year, and I hope it becomes a World Cup…how sick!?
Photo: Mark Suprenant
An impressive field lined up on both days, made complete with Katerina Nash, Mary McConneloug, Mo Bruno-Roy, Kelli Emmet, Meredith Miller (fresh off of Road Worlds), and Lyne Bessette. Mo took the hole shot on Saturday, with Nash on her wheel, and me on Nash’s wheel. When Nash went passed Mo, I followed her wheel, sticking to it for the first lap. But soon I couldn’t match her power and accelerations out of the corners, and Mary quickly picked me up, telling me to hop on her wheel. I think I was a bit blown from trying to maintain Katerina’s mach speed and couldn’t hold Mary’s wheel either. She went through me, and soon Meredith had overcome her last row start position and had bridged to me. I happily let her come passed and sat on her wheel to recover. When I saw that Mer was bridging to me, I had hoped that perhaps we could work together to bridge back to Mary. But Mary was one bad motor scooter and had rode her way to within 10 seconds of Katerina. I was also not feeling the strength to pull through, and was content with drafting for a bit. Soon it was clear that it was going to be a race for the final spot on the podium. On the second to last lap I made my plan for a prime spot to attack, and executed it on the final lap. The course held quite a few pavement power sections, and it was also fairly windy. So I didn’t want to go too early, given that 3 of these power sections were in the last 1k of the course. In the second to last power section I made my attack, and took my line into a hard right kicker which then led into some single track before spitting us into the finishing 200m. It worked and I took the 3rd spot, with Mer close behind.
Photo C: Pain Face
Da boyz fared some flats in their race…all of them flatted. So, a bit discouraged, we went back to hotel to get ready for a tasty seafood dinner. Then Josh, Dan, Sam and I all crammed into one room with a lot of red bikes! The next morning, a crisp blue sky bid us good luck in our races.
Photo C: Mark SuprenantBoth day’s courses were designed by Tom Stevens, and were awesomely fun. Saturday’s was fairly similar to that which I remember from 2006 Nationals. Sunday he switched it up a bit, adding even more twisting and tight turns with some more technical challenges. Did I mention the courses were flipping sweet? Seriously, they were like roller coasters, a playground for bike racers. The Providence Cyclocross Festival was also part of Interbike East, so all the hoorahs from Interbike were there. My favorite was the Raw Revolution tent…those bars are sooo tasty. Richard Fries promoted the race and did a splendorific job. I hope to race it again next year, and I hope it becomes a World Cup…how sick!?
Photo: Mark SuprenantAn impressive field lined up on both days, made complete with Katerina Nash, Mary McConneloug, Mo Bruno-Roy, Kelli Emmet, Meredith Miller (fresh off of Road Worlds), and Lyne Bessette. Mo took the hole shot on Saturday, with Nash on her wheel, and me on Nash’s wheel. When Nash went passed Mo, I followed her wheel, sticking to it for the first lap. But soon I couldn’t match her power and accelerations out of the corners, and Mary quickly picked me up, telling me to hop on her wheel. I think I was a bit blown from trying to maintain Katerina’s mach speed and couldn’t hold Mary’s wheel either. She went through me, and soon Meredith had overcome her last row start position and had bridged to me. I happily let her come passed and sat on her wheel to recover. When I saw that Mer was bridging to me, I had hoped that perhaps we could work together to bridge back to Mary. But Mary was one bad motor scooter and had rode her way to within 10 seconds of Katerina. I was also not feeling the strength to pull through, and was content with drafting for a bit. Soon it was clear that it was going to be a race for the final spot on the podium. On the second to last lap I made my plan for a prime spot to attack, and executed it on the final lap. The course held quite a few pavement power sections, and it was also fairly windy. So I didn’t want to go too early, given that 3 of these power sections were in the last 1k of the course. In the second to last power section I made my attack, and took my line into a hard right kicker which then led into some single track before spitting us into the finishing 200m. It worked and I took the 3rd spot, with Mer close behind.
Photo C: Pain Face
Da boyz fared some flats in their race…all of them flatted. So, a bit discouraged, we went back to hotel to get ready for a tasty seafood dinner. Then Josh, Dan, Sam and I all crammed into one room with a lot of red bikes! The next morning, a crisp blue sky bid us good luck in our races.
Friday, October 9, 2009
En Route
On Thursday I spent 5 hours in Richmond at Village Bikes. It’s the shop that The Jamey Driscoll works at. His boss, Gene helped me out BIG TIME with gluing wheels and other random stuff when I was staring blankly at my bike, wondering how to tackle the next obstacle. We got it dialed and the bike that fit me like a glove, now fits better – more like a sock. It’s kinda like when you’re making a snow angel…first you lie down in the snow and make the imprint, and as you windshield wiper your arms and legs, the angel becomes more and more you. Or maybe you become more and more angelic? To sum it up, I’m an angel on my bike.
Hehe, I like that…I wish I had a picture.
Onward ho, on the road we go. The best Dad ever is currently driving us through a rain soaked New Hampshire and the leaves have been unreal. Imagine all those ‘Fall Foliage’ books with the pictures of changing leaves. Now imagine droplets of water on the page – that’s what I’m looking at. Now imagine the rumble you feel in your stomach when riding in a sports car, the wider and low profile tires skimming along the frost-heaved pavement and dirt roads. Add some warmth in your buns and back from the heated seats. Now pick up the cup of Pumpkin Spice coffee and waft the scent and slowly devour. Now you’re basically in the backseat of our car! Except there’s no room for you because somehow we’ve crammed two bikes, 4 wheels, and all the clothing and accessories needed for a weekend of ‘cross racing on the unpredictable and ever-changing east coast…all into a ruby-red little audit tt.
Quit laughing at me…the pumpkin spice coffee is pretty good. I gotta be defensive because normally I would never get the flavored coffee. But it’s fall, and fall is cold, and for cold you need spice, and spice reminds me of apple pie and pumpkins, and pumpkins and pie remind me of punkin pie which tastes good and so does coffee, so how can you go wrong with punkin spice coffee?
Providence Cyclo-fest is this weekend at Roger Williams Park. I raced here in 2006, my inaugural season of cyclocross, when Providence hosted Nationals. It was a fun course, so I’m looking forward to recon-ing it today. I look back at that race with fondness and some embarrassment. The first day was the U23 race, which was run at the same time as the collegiate women’s race. So I was lined up beside my now-sister-in-law, Nicole. Arielle Filiberti and I duked it out throughout the race, and in the end, I took the win. My bro was in the pit for me, with his bike as mine and Nicole’s backup bike. On the final lap I had instilled a good gap on Arielle, but on the final run-up, about 600m from the finish I dropped my chain and hardly knew what to do. I remember seeing Dan in an absolute stricken panicked mayhem. But I got it back on ok, and rode to the finish for my first win! Dan was bug-eyed, and I think I recall seeing a bit of emotion. My dad was also there, and it was the first psycho-cross race he had ever seen, and from that point on he was hooked!
The following day was the elite race, where I lined up on the very last row. I remember the race starting and seeing the entire field before me pedaling away while I was still standing, shivering, waiting. And I had a mullet. But I picked my way through, and then ran smack dab into Boulderite, Cat Johnson. Crumbled like Jenga. Rookie takes down seasoned veteran. Then I also found this cool picture of me giving er’, and Jen Tilley is on my wheel, and I didn’t know her at the time because she was still in Kansas. The following year Jen, Natasha Cowie and myself were like three peas in a pod on Velo Bella. Providence was good times, good seafood.
Hehe, I like that…I wish I had a picture.
Onward ho, on the road we go. The best Dad ever is currently driving us through a rain soaked New Hampshire and the leaves have been unreal. Imagine all those ‘Fall Foliage’ books with the pictures of changing leaves. Now imagine droplets of water on the page – that’s what I’m looking at. Now imagine the rumble you feel in your stomach when riding in a sports car, the wider and low profile tires skimming along the frost-heaved pavement and dirt roads. Add some warmth in your buns and back from the heated seats. Now pick up the cup of Pumpkin Spice coffee and waft the scent and slowly devour. Now you’re basically in the backseat of our car! Except there’s no room for you because somehow we’ve crammed two bikes, 4 wheels, and all the clothing and accessories needed for a weekend of ‘cross racing on the unpredictable and ever-changing east coast…all into a ruby-red little audit tt.
Quit laughing at me…the pumpkin spice coffee is pretty good. I gotta be defensive because normally I would never get the flavored coffee. But it’s fall, and fall is cold, and for cold you need spice, and spice reminds me of apple pie and pumpkins, and pumpkins and pie remind me of punkin pie which tastes good and so does coffee, so how can you go wrong with punkin spice coffee?
Providence Cyclo-fest is this weekend at Roger Williams Park. I raced here in 2006, my inaugural season of cyclocross, when Providence hosted Nationals. It was a fun course, so I’m looking forward to recon-ing it today. I look back at that race with fondness and some embarrassment. The first day was the U23 race, which was run at the same time as the collegiate women’s race. So I was lined up beside my now-sister-in-law, Nicole. Arielle Filiberti and I duked it out throughout the race, and in the end, I took the win. My bro was in the pit for me, with his bike as mine and Nicole’s backup bike. On the final lap I had instilled a good gap on Arielle, but on the final run-up, about 600m from the finish I dropped my chain and hardly knew what to do. I remember seeing Dan in an absolute stricken panicked mayhem. But I got it back on ok, and rode to the finish for my first win! Dan was bug-eyed, and I think I recall seeing a bit of emotion. My dad was also there, and it was the first psycho-cross race he had ever seen, and from that point on he was hooked!
The following day was the elite race, where I lined up on the very last row. I remember the race starting and seeing the entire field before me pedaling away while I was still standing, shivering, waiting. And I had a mullet. But I picked my way through, and then ran smack dab into Boulderite, Cat Johnson. Crumbled like Jenga. Rookie takes down seasoned veteran. Then I also found this cool picture of me giving er’, and Jen Tilley is on my wheel, and I didn’t know her at the time because she was still in Kansas. The following year Jen, Natasha Cowie and myself were like three peas in a pod on Velo Bella. Providence was good times, good seafood.
Monday, October 5, 2009
Gloucester day deux
Videoooo from Colt at www.CyclingDirt.com: http://www.cyclingdirt.org/videos/coverage/view_video/235695-nact-3-4-grand-prix-of-gloucester/203131-amy-dombroski-post-race-gp-gloucester-1
When waiting for my clothes to wash at the laundromat on Saturday afternoon, my dad and I found a rockin' little coffee shop in downtown Glahsta, called Pleasant Street Tea Co. Their chai spiced butternut squash soup was tops, and we enjoyed some rooibos tea. We visited the coffee shop again on Sunday morning where we fueled up on porridge and rocket fuel coffee.
I felt like I had put in a solid warm-up on Saturday, but with cold and rain it can be hard to get it right. So today I made sure to really get the legs going, especially because immediately after finishing yesterday I went home to get in the hot shower without a cool down of any sort. The weather turned around and the sun actually peaked out for the end of our race and into the men's race. Because we tore apart the course so lividly yesterday and the race promoters need to pay a landscaper to repair any damage, the course was widely revised. The rain finally came to a halt on Saturday night, and the ocean breeze dried the course out a bunch. So we were left with a very different Gloucester course with tacky conditions.
My start was better and some snap returned to my legs. After a fast start, a group at the front of the race formed with Natasha Elliot, Mo, LVG, Sue, Rebecca W, and myself. With road racing-like tactics, Natasha, Mo and LVG attacked and countered, eventually creating a gap to Sue, Rebecca and me. Though I was feeling more spry at the beginning of the race, I faded for the second half. Sue got a flat, chased back on, and came passed me, telling me to get on her wheel, but my energy seemed to be tapped and my matches burned. Finally Sue and Rebecca were in front of me and my attempts to reel my way back onto their wheel were never fulfilled ...the final lap and a half was all damage control; my last strides to hold onto 6th place.
It was my first weekend with the new team. Richard conquered with a 5th and 6th. Da boyz all rode strongly, with Dan busting a 7th on Sunday. As a team we didn't entirely "save the world" as Richard was suggesting in his cheers from the pit, but there will be other weekends for that. We saved little bits and pieces of the world this weekend, and we can only build on that!
Photo credit to Dave McElwaine at trailwatch.net
When waiting for my clothes to wash at the laundromat on Saturday afternoon, my dad and I found a rockin' little coffee shop in downtown Glahsta, called Pleasant Street Tea Co. Their chai spiced butternut squash soup was tops, and we enjoyed some rooibos tea. We visited the coffee shop again on Sunday morning where we fueled up on porridge and rocket fuel coffee.
I felt like I had put in a solid warm-up on Saturday, but with cold and rain it can be hard to get it right. So today I made sure to really get the legs going, especially because immediately after finishing yesterday I went home to get in the hot shower without a cool down of any sort. The weather turned around and the sun actually peaked out for the end of our race and into the men's race. Because we tore apart the course so lividly yesterday and the race promoters need to pay a landscaper to repair any damage, the course was widely revised. The rain finally came to a halt on Saturday night, and the ocean breeze dried the course out a bunch. So we were left with a very different Gloucester course with tacky conditions.
My start was better and some snap returned to my legs. After a fast start, a group at the front of the race formed with Natasha Elliot, Mo, LVG, Sue, Rebecca W, and myself. With road racing-like tactics, Natasha, Mo and LVG attacked and countered, eventually creating a gap to Sue, Rebecca and me. Though I was feeling more spry at the beginning of the race, I faded for the second half. Sue got a flat, chased back on, and came passed me, telling me to get on her wheel, but my energy seemed to be tapped and my matches burned. Finally Sue and Rebecca were in front of me and my attempts to reel my way back onto their wheel were never fulfilled ...the final lap and a half was all damage control; my last strides to hold onto 6th place.
It was my first weekend with the new team. Richard conquered with a 5th and 6th. Da boyz all rode strongly, with Dan busting a 7th on Sunday. As a team we didn't entirely "save the world" as Richard was suggesting in his cheers from the pit, but there will be other weekends for that. We saved little bits and pieces of the world this weekend, and we can only build on that!
Photo credit to Dave McElwaine at trailwatch.net
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Gloucester day 1
Photo credit: Dave McElwaine
I suppose it takes really bad days in the office to make you fully appreciate the good ones. Or really rainy and gloomy days to make you appreciate sunny blue skies. How about really delayed and crummy flights to appreciate when a flight is flawless and maybe even early, wha? Running in a cotton shirt as opposed to wool? Bong water coffee to fully appreciate a most excellent cappuccino. For me, it is the really good races and training rides that get me through some terrible days on the bike. It is remembering what 'good' feels like, and when you can't quite pin 'good' on a bad day, it is holding onto the good through the bad days.
Saturday was the Gran Prix of Gloucester, or New England Worlds. The race is historic - the bread and butter of cyclocross in North America. It is known for it's unmatchable venue, right on Glastah Hahbah, as well as for it's unpredictable weather. There have been years of snow, where hell has frozen over. There are rain sodden years. There are years like last year, my inaugural Gloucester, when it was beautiful and sunny and warm. Saturday started off rainy, then it grew rainier before breaking into more rain, which led to some more rainy weather, ending in rain. I won't lie - one reason I live in Colorado is because I need 360 days of sun. When I visit VT, I leave feeling a bit depressed from crummy weather. But I do enjoy muddy cyclocross...that's what it's all about. I don't enjoy the cleanup or the amount of times you end up changing clothes, but when the action begins and you're slip sliding away, it's pretty rawesome.
...Except for when you're getting your arse kicked! The start at Gloucester is at the base of an uphill drag of 300m or so, that shoos you onto the grass. I absolutely loved the start drag last year, but today I couldn't move my legs quick enough and entered the course in about 15th. The race started without me or something. I ended up fighting my way through some people throughout the switchbacking slickness. But when we hit the run up my legs were stiff like 2x4s, and I felt like I was back squatting my way through the course. All in all, my legs were just slow, heavy, and powerless. I felt like I was giving er' out of every corner, but getting nothing out of my attempts to accelerate. My mud riding wasn't too shabby, I was riding relaxed, and staying on my bike, but I was going nowhere fast.
The heavy mudified course resulted in long lap times, about 10-12 minutes per lap, and we only ended up racing 3! But when you're feeling as ugly as the mud looks, a 36 minute race is long enough!
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Sunday of the USGP Planet Bike Cup
Sunday was off to a beautiful start with bright blue skies, the sun's warmth, and not a cloud to be found. I arrived to the venue with ample time to recon the new course. It had actually changed quite a bit from the day prior. There were some more zig-zagging corners which, with finesse you could rail without grabbing a handfull of brake. The u-turns provided the feeling of a crisp arc on a finely tuned pair of slalom skis. The middle of the course was fairly similar to the day prior, holding steady with rips dispersed through the trees. On the 2nd half of the course, the railroad tied stairs turned into two grueling kickers - the first S'd it's way up, quickly topping out and shooting hard back down to a tight u-turn with a pitch looming before you.
As the minutes ticked away from the final hour before the gun show, the bright blue sky transcended into a deep grey. Trees were aswaying and the wind was ripping through the venue. The final pre-race instructions were muffled by the wind and soon we were within 15 seconds, waiting for the ominous shotgun to set us loose. In the name of torture, firing the shotgun must be a pretty fun and cruel job. At any point in the final 30-seconds the gun can fire. So you've got all these overly caffeinated skinny bike racers who are chomping at the bit like a raring bull before a red flag. The jitters are already there before the call-ups even begin, and as each name is called, some riders attempt to be sociable and calm and cool, just shootin' the shit (mtn bikers). Then there's the other stone-faced racers, who look as though they're next in line for execution (roadies). But what's going on inside? A racing heart and crush, conquer, kill! Each rider nervously looks down and around, feeling his or her tires to make sure they're spot on, checking out the bike beside them and speculating how flash it is. Of course the photographers who come to every race have observed this matter of behavior, so they're all clicking away, while us riders are trying to look good in our skinsuits - suck that gut in, make sure the heart isn't beating too far out of the chest, make sure the legs aren't trembling too much, adjust the helmet and glasses for the 47th time so they're not crooked, checking the flair to ensure it's doing whatever job it's supposed to do. Meanwhile the slowest 30-seconds of every Saturday and Sunday in September through January are crawling by as Shotgun Willy is harvesting a great satisfaction in watching us all tremble in our underwear. If there's one thing I want to do when I retire from racing....
Believe it or not, the gun fired within the 30-seconds, and I was off to a better start than the day prior, sitting probably 5th or 6th wheel. I was trying to hold steady to the wheel in front of me, but my legs weren't quite there today and that pop to match another pace was lacking. The zig-zag section spit you out into a raging headwind and a slog along squishy ground. I was a bit gapped going into the straight, and being alone, the wind ate me up and spit me out. For the remainder of the race I was with me, myself, and the wind, just doing damage control. Finally on the final lap I was feeling a tad bit more spry and saw that Dunlap was looking over her shoulder at me. I gritted my teeth and pushed a little harder, shutting the original gap of 15 or 20 seconds down to about 5 or 6. But the finish came too soon, although I was quite happy to pass it, albeit a 7th place finish...finish lines are sweet.
As the minutes ticked away from the final hour before the gun show, the bright blue sky transcended into a deep grey. Trees were aswaying and the wind was ripping through the venue. The final pre-race instructions were muffled by the wind and soon we were within 15 seconds, waiting for the ominous shotgun to set us loose. In the name of torture, firing the shotgun must be a pretty fun and cruel job. At any point in the final 30-seconds the gun can fire. So you've got all these overly caffeinated skinny bike racers who are chomping at the bit like a raring bull before a red flag. The jitters are already there before the call-ups even begin, and as each name is called, some riders attempt to be sociable and calm and cool, just shootin' the shit (mtn bikers). Then there's the other stone-faced racers, who look as though they're next in line for execution (roadies). But what's going on inside? A racing heart and crush, conquer, kill! Each rider nervously looks down and around, feeling his or her tires to make sure they're spot on, checking out the bike beside them and speculating how flash it is. Of course the photographers who come to every race have observed this matter of behavior, so they're all clicking away, while us riders are trying to look good in our skinsuits - suck that gut in, make sure the heart isn't beating too far out of the chest, make sure the legs aren't trembling too much, adjust the helmet and glasses for the 47th time so they're not crooked, checking the flair to ensure it's doing whatever job it's supposed to do. Meanwhile the slowest 30-seconds of every Saturday and Sunday in September through January are crawling by as Shotgun Willy is harvesting a great satisfaction in watching us all tremble in our underwear. If there's one thing I want to do when I retire from racing....
Believe it or not, the gun fired within the 30-seconds, and I was off to a better start than the day prior, sitting probably 5th or 6th wheel. I was trying to hold steady to the wheel in front of me, but my legs weren't quite there today and that pop to match another pace was lacking. The zig-zag section spit you out into a raging headwind and a slog along squishy ground. I was a bit gapped going into the straight, and being alone, the wind ate me up and spit me out. For the remainder of the race I was with me, myself, and the wind, just doing damage control. Finally on the final lap I was feeling a tad bit more spry and saw that Dunlap was looking over her shoulder at me. I gritted my teeth and pushed a little harder, shutting the original gap of 15 or 20 seconds down to about 5 or 6. But the finish came too soon, although I was quite happy to pass it, albeit a 7th place finish...finish lines are sweet.
Monday, September 28, 2009
USGP Planet Bike Cup #1
Giving the new kit some love...
Off to Madison, WI on Thursday morning, where Bonnie and Carmella greeted me with warm hugs and Shelley’s smile. I stayed with Bonnie for the night, before they headed to Wisconsin Dells on Friday evening for the Shelley Glover Skiing Education Foundation benefit century ride. I was passed off to my gracious host-mom, Amanda for the weekend. Amanda was my mom, handler, chauffeur, and chef….she made the weekend possible. HUGE thank you to her!
I found the course very much to my liking. It had some power-course aspects, but it also held twisty-turny switchbacks with tacky mud to absolutely rail the corners. There was one fast barrier section, so I was going to need my spry legs to show up… not the lethargic stumps which boarded the plane to Vegas. There was also a hillside with railroad ties built in as the run-up.
I squandered another front-row position with a poor start and found myself sitting outside the top ten in the first minutes of the race. A lot of times I find myself in no-man’s land, by myself so it can be difficult without rest to move forward. Today I was able to make the bridge to rider’s wheels, stick there and recover a bit, before bridging to the next wheel. This I learned from getting dropped in every race in France while frantically trying to surf bumpers in the caravan. Nice. Eventually I found myself on Sydor’s wheel, trying without success to reel Georgia in. In the final laps a hard-chasing Butler and Dee Dee closed the gap on Sydor and myself. While I am confident in my sprint, I don’t like races to come down to that because you never know what will happen in the final meters of a race, especially when drag racing to that white line for the final time. Plus it’s fun to attack, see how hard you can go for as long as possible, to see an immediate gap, to make your legs howl and your lungs scream…it’s fun to inflict pain, eh?
On the final lap, going into the second portion of the course I threw in an attack. I was feeling good on the run-up, so figured I could stick it until the finish. Yes, I was confident, but oh so relieved to cross the finish line:
Pics from Dave McElwaine at Trailwatch.net
Off to Madison, WI on Thursday morning, where Bonnie and Carmella greeted me with warm hugs and Shelley’s smile. I stayed with Bonnie for the night, before they headed to Wisconsin Dells on Friday evening for the Shelley Glover Skiing Education Foundation benefit century ride. I was passed off to my gracious host-mom, Amanda for the weekend. Amanda was my mom, handler, chauffeur, and chef….she made the weekend possible. HUGE thank you to her!
I found the course very much to my liking. It had some power-course aspects, but it also held twisty-turny switchbacks with tacky mud to absolutely rail the corners. There was one fast barrier section, so I was going to need my spry legs to show up… not the lethargic stumps which boarded the plane to Vegas. There was also a hillside with railroad ties built in as the run-up.
I squandered another front-row position with a poor start and found myself sitting outside the top ten in the first minutes of the race. A lot of times I find myself in no-man’s land, by myself so it can be difficult without rest to move forward. Today I was able to make the bridge to rider’s wheels, stick there and recover a bit, before bridging to the next wheel. This I learned from getting dropped in every race in France while frantically trying to surf bumpers in the caravan. Nice. Eventually I found myself on Sydor’s wheel, trying without success to reel Georgia in. In the final laps a hard-chasing Butler and Dee Dee closed the gap on Sydor and myself. While I am confident in my sprint, I don’t like races to come down to that because you never know what will happen in the final meters of a race, especially when drag racing to that white line for the final time. Plus it’s fun to attack, see how hard you can go for as long as possible, to see an immediate gap, to make your legs howl and your lungs scream…it’s fun to inflict pain, eh?
On the final lap, going into the second portion of the course I threw in an attack. I was feeling good on the run-up, so figured I could stick it until the finish. Yes, I was confident, but oh so relieved to cross the finish line:
Pics from Dave McElwaine at Trailwatch.net
Sunday, September 27, 2009
'Cross Vegas
Two years ago, I raced the inaugural ‘Cross Vegas, the cyclocross race which kicks off the mayhem of Interbike. I promised myself that I would never come back again…I am not a huge fan of the whole idea of Las Vegas. First, it’s the middle of the desert and bloody hot. But how many waterfalls and fountains are there? Then there’s the fact that daylight is slept away and life resumes at night with lights – sparkling lights, twinkling lights, shiny lights, bright lights. Oh, and we race on a soccer complex with some of the most vibrant green grass I have ever seen, surrounded by as much brown and as many lights. I guess it’s a good place to visit, because the relief of leaving is so intense. Sorry to complain, but I need to add that riding through wet cement really put the icing on the cake. Yup, two years ago I went out for a morning spin before the race that night. Splattering, like riding through mud and I realize that wet cement from an area of road is spraying on me.
Alright Debbie downer, this year was better. I arrived on Thursday afternoon and was able to get on the bike for a couple of hours with Dan Ellmore from Schlamm. I was pleased to see the grass a bit less green and thick, however it still proved to be energy zapping. It was over 100 degrees when Dan and I rode out there (him without a water bottle!), and after a single lap we were parched, zapped and ready to head back to the lights.
The next morning I bought my $4 cup of drip coffee and “Perfect Oatmeal” from Starshmucks. Wow their perfection is way off kilter. Then off to the Interbike Show for a few leg numbing hours of bizness. Later, the real fun began at the Desert Breeze soccer complex. Our race began at 7:50pm…right when I’m normally flossing, brushing my teeth, pulling my bed out from the wall and hoping for a good night’s sleep. The call-ups were exciting, as the fans and cowbells were loud and the beer was flowing mellifluously. The start was fast, furious, and a shock to the system. My first lap was solid after losing my front-row start position, then fighting for it back and finding a good wheel. As I entered the barriers I kind of forgot what I was doing and almost tripped! My legs felt like logs and I guess I forgot to pick my bike up. So that was ugly and I opened up my first gap there.
My race turned into a slog, riders trickled passed me and I was unable to hold wheels. Eventually I found somewhat of a rhythm, albeit slow and painful, and a chase group finally formed, containing LVG, Sydor and some others. Those two are no slugs, especially when coming into the finishing straight! On the final lap I picked the hardest part of the course to go ape-shit. On the farthest side from the announcer’s stand, there is a brutal hill that is mostly hidden from light. The grass is the thickest here, thick like setting cement…think of sprinting on flat tires while also on something squishy like a jelly fish. My attack stuck to the finish, though LVG was reeling me in rapidly, and that was the sprint for 9th. So, all in all, not a race I look back on with fond memories, but solid in a wet-asphalt sort of way. The worst part is how dry it is. After a 40-minute effort you sound as though you’ve been smoking for 40 years, and my voice and throat didn’t feel close to normal until a few days following – just in time for another balls-to-the-wall effort in Wisconsin!
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Race reports...
They will come. they will come. From 'CrossVegas and all that mayhem to the first stop on the USGP schedule: Madison, WI! Until then, here's a recap in vid vid from Colt at CyclingDirt.com.
http://www.cyclingdirt.org/videos/coverage/view_video/235617-usgp-1-2-planet-bike-cup/202142-amy-dombroski-post-race-usgp-1
http://www.cyclingdirt.org/videos/coverage/view_video/235617-usgp-1-2-planet-bike-cup/202307-amy-dombroski-post-race-usgp-2
http://www.cyclingdirt.org/videos/coverage/view_video/235617-usgp-1-2-planet-bike-cup/202142-amy-dombroski-post-race-usgp-1
http://www.cyclingdirt.org/videos/coverage/view_video/235617-usgp-1-2-planet-bike-cup/202307-amy-dombroski-post-race-usgp-2
Friday, September 18, 2009
It's all coffee's fault!
A 40 minute race and you think, ahh no worries, a quickie, eh? Somehow it used to be that easy. I'd wake up a few hours before the race, eat a cinnamon roll or a bagel with cream cheese, and ride to the start in Boulder. Without coffee!! But then coffee entered my life. Then traveling to races. And to travel I needed coffee. To drink coffee I needed more time in the morning. To travel to races, it usually ends up that there aren't beautiful bike paths leading from the front door to start line, so then you need to drive to the race. And you don't want to sit in your chamois all that driving time, so you leave 15 minutes earlier to allow changing time. But then you start flying to races, and while you can pack your bike in a bag and fly with it for an ass-chapping $175, you can't fly with your car which you may need for transportation. And no, you can't rely on unpacking your bike and riding to the hotel from the aeroport, because now you have two bikes and a menagerie of wheels, on top of all those fancy clothes to keep you warm in Portland's puddles and Southampton's snow. Hey, one more thing, I'm only 22 and I can't rent a car!
If I get to that point I'm doing pretty well I guess. Where do the bikes come from? What comprises a bike...the frame, the wheels, the tires, the pedals, the saddles, the cockpit, the chains, the brakes...? How are the tubular tires attached to the wheels? Where's the money tree for flights? You got that...but you're still naked! What about your clothes and shoes and helmet and glasses? In short, I guess what I'm trying to say is that when the music gets intense for the call-ups of those precious UCI points, there was a whole lot behind the scenes.
Months ago, when I was still putting in mile upon mile on the steaming pavement under the relentless Colorado sun, I knew cyclocross would be dawning it's fall leaves before I knew my off-season had even begun. I rediscovered my New England roots with the Richard Sachs cyclocross team. Since receiving Richie's ATMO blessing, there have been steady streams of emails bouncing between this 6-man (well 5-man and one-amy) squad. It is the intricate snowflakes that form a white carpet in the backcountry, but it is also these snowflakes which can cause life ending avalanches. It is all in the details...it is the intricasies of a cyclocross season's planning that can lead to victory salutes and hard-earned jerseys, or stressful and drawn-out broken goals.
Somehow I find myself five days before CrossVegas, which could be considered the most prized race in the US. I don't know if there will be one thousand spectators or one million, I just know that as soon as the sun goes down in the desert, all I will see is the course in front of me, or someone else's tire, or the infinite abyss into which I am riding. All I will hear is the clammoring of cowbells and the insane screaming of drunken spectators.
When the gun goes off, all the details - the planning, the building, the shipping, the travel, the stress, the training - it all goes out the window. I can't say "Excuse me Georgia, Richard spent more time measuring the custom steel tubing on my bike to ensure a perfect fit, so I should go faster." And I don't think it would be proper to tap Katie on the shoulder to ask her how much training she did the week prior and then say "Ok, well I put in one more hour two weeks ago and one less hour this week, so I should be fresh and faster." No, it is the details that get you to the start line with enough time to take a breath and a sip of water. The details are the insurance for a stress and mechanical free season, for good legs (ha, imagine that) and hopefully success, for fun, and for that extra 15 minutes in the morning to enjoy your cup of coffee.
If I get to that point I'm doing pretty well I guess. Where do the bikes come from? What comprises a bike...the frame, the wheels, the tires, the pedals, the saddles, the cockpit, the chains, the brakes...? How are the tubular tires attached to the wheels? Where's the money tree for flights? You got that...but you're still naked! What about your clothes and shoes and helmet and glasses? In short, I guess what I'm trying to say is that when the music gets intense for the call-ups of those precious UCI points, there was a whole lot behind the scenes.
Months ago, when I was still putting in mile upon mile on the steaming pavement under the relentless Colorado sun, I knew cyclocross would be dawning it's fall leaves before I knew my off-season had even begun. I rediscovered my New England roots with the Richard Sachs cyclocross team. Since receiving Richie's ATMO blessing, there have been steady streams of emails bouncing between this 6-man (well 5-man and one-amy) squad. It is the intricate snowflakes that form a white carpet in the backcountry, but it is also these snowflakes which can cause life ending avalanches. It is all in the details...it is the intricasies of a cyclocross season's planning that can lead to victory salutes and hard-earned jerseys, or stressful and drawn-out broken goals.
Somehow I find myself five days before CrossVegas, which could be considered the most prized race in the US. I don't know if there will be one thousand spectators or one million, I just know that as soon as the sun goes down in the desert, all I will see is the course in front of me, or someone else's tire, or the infinite abyss into which I am riding. All I will hear is the clammoring of cowbells and the insane screaming of drunken spectators.
When the gun goes off, all the details - the planning, the building, the shipping, the travel, the stress, the training - it all goes out the window. I can't say "Excuse me Georgia, Richard spent more time measuring the custom steel tubing on my bike to ensure a perfect fit, so I should go faster." And I don't think it would be proper to tap Katie on the shoulder to ask her how much training she did the week prior and then say "Ok, well I put in one more hour two weeks ago and one less hour this week, so I should be fresh and faster." No, it is the details that get you to the start line with enough time to take a breath and a sip of water. The details are the insurance for a stress and mechanical free season, for good legs (ha, imagine that) and hopefully success, for fun, and for that extra 15 minutes in the morning to enjoy your cup of coffee.
Thursday, September 17, 2009
'Cross Reality
Andy Frothingham, son of the great Steve at VeloNews is sure to be the next Woody Allen. Check him out: http://www.littlebelgiummovie.com/
Andy is making a Cyclocross Reality show for VeloNews.com, appropriately named 'Cross Reality. The video series will be following Jon Baker (the mastermind of 'cross) and myself . The first episode has arrived! Check it out: http://www.velonews.com/article/97953
Andy is making a Cyclocross Reality show for VeloNews.com, appropriately named 'Cross Reality. The video series will be following Jon Baker (the mastermind of 'cross) and myself . The first episode has arrived! Check it out: http://www.velonews.com/article/97953
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Sombrero Trail Run
A 4.5 mile running race. Stop rubbing your eyes, you read that correctly.
I woke early Saturday morning to a dark and dreary day, and the pitter-patter of rain drops on the bushes beside my patio. I was tempted to shut the alarm clock off and pull the covers back over my head. But I had less than an hour until Dan and Nicole came to pick me up, and I had some very important tasks to take care of, like making my coffee and drinking it too. At 7, we cruised outta town and up to Estes Park, about a 50-minute drive. We stepped out of the car into an even colder and rainier climate. The race is called Sombrero Trail run and it starts at Sombrero Ranch Stables. The name did not disappoint, as the parking officials were all on horseback and wearing sombreros and the damp air held the scent of the Wild West. Plus, the trails were made technical not only from rocks & roots, but from horse plops here and there.
The course was 4.5 miles of awesome singletrack, winding you up to an elevation of 8,000' with 900' of gain from start to finish. When you could get a second to look up from where you were placing your feet, the course offered top views of Estes Park and the Continental Divide. The first mile brought you to the finish area, where volunteers were already cheffing up the post-race breakfast of cowboy coffee, pancakes, eggs, and sausage. I heard some people cheering for me, "Wahoo, second woman!". I didn't know I was going to race this until the night prior. My training consisted of a run when I got off the plane from Australia, and another little jaunter on Thursday. I figured I probably had two paces: if-I-go-slower-I'll-collapse-from-lack-of-momentum or if-I-go-harder-I'll-collapse-because-I-can't-move-my-heavy-legs-that-quickly. But I heard second woman, and was like "Wha? There's only one set of breasts in front of me?!" So I did the unimaginable...I made my heavy-legs step forward faster. Soon enough I saw a blond ponytail up the trail. Up one of the steep climbs I made my bridge. Then my tactics came into play. I had no idea for how long I could keep the pace up, so I 'drafted' off of her, resting and not burning my matches. On the next climb I made my move and she said "nice job", and I said "you too". My goal of a training-for-'cross-run turned into eye of the tiger, and I was Rocky on a fun run.
So anyways, it was lots of steep climbs and descents with amazing views on ripping single track. It ended with a tasty breakfast, cool t-shirts, and a mountain goat bobble-head for the winners. I learned that no matter what the event, if there is a start and finish line, it is impossible for me to not go mental. A win is a win, no matter if it's a tractor-pull competition at the state fair, a National Championships, a darts or foosball playoff, or a carbomb gulping competition.
I woke early Saturday morning to a dark and dreary day, and the pitter-patter of rain drops on the bushes beside my patio. I was tempted to shut the alarm clock off and pull the covers back over my head. But I had less than an hour until Dan and Nicole came to pick me up, and I had some very important tasks to take care of, like making my coffee and drinking it too. At 7, we cruised outta town and up to Estes Park, about a 50-minute drive. We stepped out of the car into an even colder and rainier climate. The race is called Sombrero Trail run and it starts at Sombrero Ranch Stables. The name did not disappoint, as the parking officials were all on horseback and wearing sombreros and the damp air held the scent of the Wild West. Plus, the trails were made technical not only from rocks & roots, but from horse plops here and there.
The course was 4.5 miles of awesome singletrack, winding you up to an elevation of 8,000' with 900' of gain from start to finish. When you could get a second to look up from where you were placing your feet, the course offered top views of Estes Park and the Continental Divide. The first mile brought you to the finish area, where volunteers were already cheffing up the post-race breakfast of cowboy coffee, pancakes, eggs, and sausage. I heard some people cheering for me, "Wahoo, second woman!". I didn't know I was going to race this until the night prior. My training consisted of a run when I got off the plane from Australia, and another little jaunter on Thursday. I figured I probably had two paces: if-I-go-slower-I'll-collapse-from-lack-of-momentum or if-I-go-harder-I'll-collapse-because-I-can't-move-my-heavy-legs-that-quickly. But I heard second woman, and was like "Wha? There's only one set of breasts in front of me?!" So I did the unimaginable...I made my heavy-legs step forward faster. Soon enough I saw a blond ponytail up the trail. Up one of the steep climbs I made my bridge. Then my tactics came into play. I had no idea for how long I could keep the pace up, so I 'drafted' off of her, resting and not burning my matches. On the next climb I made my move and she said "nice job", and I said "you too". My goal of a training-for-'cross-run turned into eye of the tiger, and I was Rocky on a fun run.
So anyways, it was lots of steep climbs and descents with amazing views on ripping single track. It ended with a tasty breakfast, cool t-shirts, and a mountain goat bobble-head for the winners. I learned that no matter what the event, if there is a start and finish line, it is impossible for me to not go mental. A win is a win, no matter if it's a tractor-pull competition at the state fair, a National Championships, a darts or foosball playoff, or a carbomb gulping competition.
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Oh Boise Idaho
On a sad day in June my three friends left Boulder to move to Boise, ID, with a 4th on the way. Tim and Ruby-the-dog rallied a huge moving truck with a trailer hauling one of their cars. Chellie, the strongest soul ever, was on bed rest with soon-to-be little man, Henry Jackson; so she had to fly to Boise. This left one of their cars in Boulder, which stayed with me until I was finally able to take a breather and drive up to Boise. It did feel a little excessive having two cars, one scooter and a fleet of bikes, all to one little person.
My flight from Australia landed me into CO at 3pm on Friday the 4th. My original plan was to leave the following morning and drive the 12 hours to Boise. Afterall, I had a good 24-hours to "rest my eyes" on the plane home, so I should be rested and ready to go, eh? Negative ghostrider. No matter how badly I wanted to see Chellie and Tim, I could not bring myself to get in the car a couple-few hours later and drive 12 hours. So I waited a day. Jet lag sucks dead toads, and I found myself wide-awake at 12am on Sunday and decided to pack the car and jet. I got about 10 miles out of town before hearing the gadunk of a front flat tire. It's pitch black, I've changed a flat (car) tire once in my life, and getting those hubcaps off are the darndest. Luckily I had built my mountain bike up after flying home with it, and had it in the car. So I put my helmet and riding shoes on and pedaled home in the dark at 1:30am. Sketchy.
I actually fell asleep until about 7am when I called my brother to tell him my luck and beg for help. He graciously picked me up and we drove out to the car and put the spare on. It's Sunday, on Labor Day weekend, so every tire store is closed but one. After 15 calls I strike luck and am waiting at their door for the open sign to light up. After they fix it I'm on the road at 10am.
The check engine light comes on. I hop out and check the engine oil and top off the coolant and am on my way. It's a Subaru, and apparently the light is on so frequently that Subaru owners are more shocked if the light isn't on than if it is. Me and Cormac McCarthy's "All the Pretty Horses" are making great time and I'm still jazzed from my triple shot latte. In the middle of a poetic sentence about a pretty horse, the speakers go silent. The radio has shit the bed. Nothing works. Silence, but for the clammoring in my head.
2 long and introspective hours crawl by until I'm 5 miles off the Idaho state line and I hear David Bowie belting "one dream, one soul, one prize..." Music! It has never felt so good to sound so loud and bad singing along to a classic. I was stoked.
Maybe the stoked-ness of it all caused me to push the pedal a little further. I swear I had the cruise set at 84 in a 75 when I saw lights behind me. Officer Kilton informed me I was going 10 over and took my license and registration. I'm surprised he didn't pull me out of the car - I was so sleep deprived I looked toked. Onward-ho and I made it to their humble abode in Boise just before 10pm.
But it was worth it...I think...although now I miss them even more. Little Henry is as captivating as a bonfire in the dark woods. We'd all catch each other just staring at him, watching his every move. We did some good eating of course, lotsa coffee drinking, some pedaling. Boise is a great town, but that's a secret. The reason for their move to Boise was an odd letter combination of I/O BIO. Tim moved his expertise from Dynafit to I/O BIO, a merino wool company similar to that of the well-known Smartwool and Icebreaker, but with urban style. The hip name stands for indoor/outdoor biocompatible. It's clothing you can wear on a backcountry trip or in a freezing rain cyclocross race and have a performance notch above the others, while also being able to pick up style points in downtown Aspen.
My flight from Australia landed me into CO at 3pm on Friday the 4th. My original plan was to leave the following morning and drive the 12 hours to Boise. Afterall, I had a good 24-hours to "rest my eyes" on the plane home, so I should be rested and ready to go, eh? Negative ghostrider. No matter how badly I wanted to see Chellie and Tim, I could not bring myself to get in the car a couple-few hours later and drive 12 hours. So I waited a day. Jet lag sucks dead toads, and I found myself wide-awake at 12am on Sunday and decided to pack the car and jet. I got about 10 miles out of town before hearing the gadunk of a front flat tire. It's pitch black, I've changed a flat (car) tire once in my life, and getting those hubcaps off are the darndest. Luckily I had built my mountain bike up after flying home with it, and had it in the car. So I put my helmet and riding shoes on and pedaled home in the dark at 1:30am. Sketchy.
I actually fell asleep until about 7am when I called my brother to tell him my luck and beg for help. He graciously picked me up and we drove out to the car and put the spare on. It's Sunday, on Labor Day weekend, so every tire store is closed but one. After 15 calls I strike luck and am waiting at their door for the open sign to light up. After they fix it I'm on the road at 10am.
The check engine light comes on. I hop out and check the engine oil and top off the coolant and am on my way. It's a Subaru, and apparently the light is on so frequently that Subaru owners are more shocked if the light isn't on than if it is. Me and Cormac McCarthy's "All the Pretty Horses" are making great time and I'm still jazzed from my triple shot latte. In the middle of a poetic sentence about a pretty horse, the speakers go silent. The radio has shit the bed. Nothing works. Silence, but for the clammoring in my head.
2 long and introspective hours crawl by until I'm 5 miles off the Idaho state line and I hear David Bowie belting "one dream, one soul, one prize..." Music! It has never felt so good to sound so loud and bad singing along to a classic. I was stoked.
Maybe the stoked-ness of it all caused me to push the pedal a little further. I swear I had the cruise set at 84 in a 75 when I saw lights behind me. Officer Kilton informed me I was going 10 over and took my license and registration. I'm surprised he didn't pull me out of the car - I was so sleep deprived I looked toked. Onward-ho and I made it to their humble abode in Boise just before 10pm.
But it was worth it...I think...although now I miss them even more. Little Henry is as captivating as a bonfire in the dark woods. We'd all catch each other just staring at him, watching his every move. We did some good eating of course, lotsa coffee drinking, some pedaling. Boise is a great town, but that's a secret. The reason for their move to Boise was an odd letter combination of I/O BIO. Tim moved his expertise from Dynafit to I/O BIO, a merino wool company similar to that of the well-known Smartwool and Icebreaker, but with urban style. The hip name stands for indoor/outdoor biocompatible. It's clothing you can wear on a backcountry trip or in a freezing rain cyclocross race and have a performance notch above the others, while also being able to pick up style points in downtown Aspen.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
U23 MTB World Championship race report
I flew to Australia with a solid head on my shoulders, feeling confident in the training I had done in the preceding weeks and looking forward to good legs at a world class race. Little did my coach, Ben and I know that I should have been spending those weeks hucking myself off cliffs and preparing myself for a mix between downhill and trials racing. I left the US on Thursday the 27th and arrived in the capital of Australia, Canberra on the morning of Saturday the 29th. A crew of us rode to the venue, as it was about 8k from our hotel. Keen to check out the course, we ignored the threatening clouds which came back to nip us with pelting hail! Beyond being stung from hail, frozen from numbing wind, I was also flabbergasted by the first 3k of the course. I kept desperately looking at Marc (Gullickson, the cross-country coach) with hope that he would say "oops, we're on the downhill course!"
The course began with a fun little twisty-turny single track climb, with dirt I would compare to riding in CO or CA...dry and ventilated, but tacky so you could rail it. This dropped you out onto a fire-road climb which looked ideal for passing before dropping back into single track. The second single track section looked yummy, as it had some rocks and maneuvering sections, but it was stuff I could handle no problem. And it was straight up, lung bursting, just giving er' to get the pedals turned over; appropriately named Cardiac Climb. For the first few minutes I was licking my chops. Then it all went downhill...literally, into Cadaver Corner. When the climb topped out, you immediately went rocketing into this slick boulder field descent. If your butt wasn't back, you'd go over the bars.
Look closely to see what I mean:
From this drop it started a mellow pitch of a climb which switch-backed a bunch and was plagued with big boulders where weight distribution was key. It's this fine tuned movement of picking the weight up off the front wheel then quickly moving forward and kicking the back wheel up...supposed to be fine tuned but mine was roughly hacked. I tried and tried to make this section flawless because with my legs feeling climby, I thought this could be a section to excel on. Unfortunately I never linked the whole section together...just bits and pieces, and a whole lot of most-excellent cyclocross mounts and dismounts. Finally I had a brief 2 seconds to take a deep breath before more internal whimpering.
Next was the "Hammerhead", and I think I would rather come face to face with a hammerhead shark than come to face this drop again. It was an infestation of medium sized boulders, all placed inconveniently enough, serving as the lead-out to two vertical granite rock roll-ins. And the B-line didn't hold much more optimism for me. I hammered my head on this section, literally and figuratively. I crashed enough times to know what not to do, but actually nailed it a few times (the B-line that is...I never bucked up enough to go cliff jumping). Eventually this section became fun in a drugged sort of way. It challenged me so much that I kept wanting to try it again and again, because each time it would be a tad bit better. By race day, I had the "cautious" B-line down pretty well. At this juncture, we're only a third of the way through the course! Good news is, it gets fun from here. The nightmare stuff is out of the way. Shortly after Hammerhead, there was another triple rock drop which was mellower. It took some time to actually attempt it, but it was tons faster than the B-line, and gave me the opportunity to go head over teacup a few times too. From here the course turned into a mock-luge for the majority. A wicked fast banked descent, into some fun whoopty-doos, into a dual slalom type track that gave the opportunity for you to go head-to-head and try for a pass. This dropped you into a field where the tech and feed zone was. Then a 600m fire-road section into twisting single track on that grippy dirt. From here it was all about rhythm from berm to berm and jump to jump, bringing you back down to the event village for the 6k of fun to begin again.
I've raced cyclocross at an international level, so I know what a fast start is, and this I was definitely expecting. Unfortunately call-up was based on UCI points, which I was at the bottom of the totem pole on. But the field was only 35-deep, and sitting 4th row really ain't that shabby. For the start there was a fire-road extension to allow a drawn out fight before entering the single track. This fire road seemed to be narrower on race day. I was darting back and forth to sneak up the sides, but always found myself brushing the fence or getting washed and pinched out. The roadie and 'cross rider in me kept looking for those gaps to squeeze into up the middle, but mtb bars are so wide! I moved up a bit but still entered the single track around 20th or further back. Cardiac Climb was wicked bogged down and people were basically track standing so I decided to dismount and jog it, which allowed me to pass a couple, especially as people were flailing like wet noodles through Cadaver Corner. All that technical death-like stuff was a cluster on this first lap so I even ran down the A-line of Hammerhead, again moving in front of people who refused to step out of their pedals. Finally the field spread out and we weren't nipping at each others wheels too bad. Chloe (Forsman, the other US rider) and I were together for a bit until the second time on Cadaver when she left me wrestling with my own bike.
It quickly became a game of the emerging-gutsier-Amy versus the cookie-monster-Amy. In the final lap there was a sizable gap in front of and behind me, so it was all about keeping the power on the pedals and riding the technical stuff as smooth as crunchy peanut butter. In the end I finished 18th, about 10 minutes back of newly crowned Polish World Champion, Aleksandra Dawidowicz. Although my legs are battered and various shades of black and blue and pink, although my bike looks as though it careened off a rapidly moving truck, although the course will continue to haunt me, although I am still in disbelief and utterly humbled by the technical abilities of everyone who congregated in Stromlo Forest Park for the 2009 World Championships, I am still in one piece and had a great many laughs with athletes from all sorts of disciplines...downhill, trials, 4x, and cross-country. I walk away knowing I have a lot of work to do, but I look forward to building on the improvements I made in the short amount of time I dabbled on this course.
Thank you for reading. And thanks also to all who made this possible: Coach Ben Ollett, massage therapist Ed Westhead, Excel Sports, Kona, Stan's NoTubes, Schlamm, Oakley, Lake Shoes, Skins, Fizik, USA Cycling, Webcor Builders.
The course began with a fun little twisty-turny single track climb, with dirt I would compare to riding in CO or CA...dry and ventilated, but tacky so you could rail it. This dropped you out onto a fire-road climb which looked ideal for passing before dropping back into single track. The second single track section looked yummy, as it had some rocks and maneuvering sections, but it was stuff I could handle no problem. And it was straight up, lung bursting, just giving er' to get the pedals turned over; appropriately named Cardiac Climb. For the first few minutes I was licking my chops. Then it all went downhill...literally, into Cadaver Corner. When the climb topped out, you immediately went rocketing into this slick boulder field descent. If your butt wasn't back, you'd go over the bars.
Look closely to see what I mean:
From this drop it started a mellow pitch of a climb which switch-backed a bunch and was plagued with big boulders where weight distribution was key. It's this fine tuned movement of picking the weight up off the front wheel then quickly moving forward and kicking the back wheel up...supposed to be fine tuned but mine was roughly hacked. I tried and tried to make this section flawless because with my legs feeling climby, I thought this could be a section to excel on. Unfortunately I never linked the whole section together...just bits and pieces, and a whole lot of most-excellent cyclocross mounts and dismounts. Finally I had a brief 2 seconds to take a deep breath before more internal whimpering.
Next was the "Hammerhead", and I think I would rather come face to face with a hammerhead shark than come to face this drop again. It was an infestation of medium sized boulders, all placed inconveniently enough, serving as the lead-out to two vertical granite rock roll-ins. And the B-line didn't hold much more optimism for me. I hammered my head on this section, literally and figuratively. I crashed enough times to know what not to do, but actually nailed it a few times (the B-line that is...I never bucked up enough to go cliff jumping). Eventually this section became fun in a drugged sort of way. It challenged me so much that I kept wanting to try it again and again, because each time it would be a tad bit better. By race day, I had the "cautious" B-line down pretty well. At this juncture, we're only a third of the way through the course! Good news is, it gets fun from here. The nightmare stuff is out of the way. Shortly after Hammerhead, there was another triple rock drop which was mellower. It took some time to actually attempt it, but it was tons faster than the B-line, and gave me the opportunity to go head over teacup a few times too. From here the course turned into a mock-luge for the majority. A wicked fast banked descent, into some fun whoopty-doos, into a dual slalom type track that gave the opportunity for you to go head-to-head and try for a pass. This dropped you into a field where the tech and feed zone was. Then a 600m fire-road section into twisting single track on that grippy dirt. From here it was all about rhythm from berm to berm and jump to jump, bringing you back down to the event village for the 6k of fun to begin again.I've raced cyclocross at an international level, so I know what a fast start is, and this I was definitely expecting. Unfortunately call-up was based on UCI points, which I was at the bottom of the totem pole on. But the field was only 35-deep, and sitting 4th row really ain't that shabby. For the start there was a fire-road extension to allow a drawn out fight before entering the single track. This fire road seemed to be narrower on race day. I was darting back and forth to sneak up the sides, but always found myself brushing the fence or getting washed and pinched out. The roadie and 'cross rider in me kept looking for those gaps to squeeze into up the middle, but mtb bars are so wide! I moved up a bit but still entered the single track around 20th or further back. Cardiac Climb was wicked bogged down and people were basically track standing so I decided to dismount and jog it, which allowed me to pass a couple, especially as people were flailing like wet noodles through Cadaver Corner. All that technical death-like stuff was a cluster on this first lap so I even ran down the A-line of Hammerhead, again moving in front of people who refused to step out of their pedals. Finally the field spread out and we weren't nipping at each others wheels too bad. Chloe (Forsman, the other US rider) and I were together for a bit until the second time on Cadaver when she left me wrestling with my own bike.
It quickly became a game of the emerging-gutsier-Amy versus the cookie-monster-Amy. In the final lap there was a sizable gap in front of and behind me, so it was all about keeping the power on the pedals and riding the technical stuff as smooth as crunchy peanut butter. In the end I finished 18th, about 10 minutes back of newly crowned Polish World Champion, Aleksandra Dawidowicz. Although my legs are battered and various shades of black and blue and pink, although my bike looks as though it careened off a rapidly moving truck, although the course will continue to haunt me, although I am still in disbelief and utterly humbled by the technical abilities of everyone who congregated in Stromlo Forest Park for the 2009 World Championships, I am still in one piece and had a great many laughs with athletes from all sorts of disciplines...downhill, trials, 4x, and cross-country. I walk away knowing I have a lot of work to do, but I look forward to building on the improvements I made in the short amount of time I dabbled on this course.
Thank you for reading. And thanks also to all who made this possible: Coach Ben Ollett, massage therapist Ed Westhead, Excel Sports, Kona, Stan's NoTubes, Schlamm, Oakley, Lake Shoes, Skins, Fizik, USA Cycling, Webcor Builders.
Monday, August 31, 2009
Canberra
I left Boulder for Australia on Thursday evening. I was preparing myself for a hellish flight, so I suppose that’s why it didn’t seem so bad. Marc, Russell, and Jill were all on my flight schedule so we cruised the airport together. The flight from San Francisco was about a 15-hour flight. Already passed my bedtime, I fell fast asleep for about 10 or 11 hours. We arrived in Canberra around 10am, grabbed our bags, went to hotel and waited for lunch. After lunch we rode over to check the course out, the venue being only 8k or so from the hotel. Amped to check the course out, we ignored the threatening clouds and got about half way through the course before being pelted by hail! Oh well, the last few days have been fun but low key. The rest of the team trickled in and we’ve just been eating, sleeping, and perfecting the course.
In other news, on Thursday, the morning I left for Oz, I “officially” made my decision to give mountain bike racing a shot for 2010. However, within the first 10 minutes of riding the course here, I was questioning my sanity in this decision!! The course is definitely something I have never ridden or experienced, and I was wondering if we had found our way onto the DH course! Big boulders and huge drops…I was so scared. The first lap was ok, because I didn’t know what was on the other side, so I just sorta went. But the next couple days of pre-riding I let my brain get in the way and I wore my skirt. Going into today, I was feeling wracked in nerves of scariness. I still have nightmares of the Green Goblin from Spiderman, and the last two nights I was trying to get away from him, on my bike, going into these boulders. Then there were mirrors everywhere…have you seen the horror movie “Mirrors”? Well, it probably isn’t a horror movie, but maybe a suspense movie. Point being, I was feeling like an ultimate wuss.
But good news, it came together today. I cut my head off so I couldn’t think. I crashed a few more times, quite a bit harder than days prior, but I knew it was my final day to get my sh*t together. Taking my leg and arm warmers off (because I really don’t feel the same sense of fast-ness with those on), I set out on my hot lap. Suddenly the course was rideable! For the most part…
Tomorrow is the race…Wednesday, Sep 2nd at 2pm. So that’s something like Tuesday at 10pm in CO. Finally I’m looking forward to it…it’s nice when you’re not dreading the course…kinda brings the fun back. The last time my legs were this bruised and battered and, well, mostly purple, was after ‘cross Nats in Kansas City where hell had frozen over and we were riding on purely frozen ruts. At least I’m givin’ er’ eh?
OH, and we saw kangaroos! When I was here last February for Geelong WC, all we wanted to see was a kangaroo (typical Americans). When we drove from aeroport to hotel we saw a herd. Then, there was a herd on the course! They’re pretty darn cute and cool…as Simon says, “like cartoon characters, what a design f*ck up!”
In other news, on Thursday, the morning I left for Oz, I “officially” made my decision to give mountain bike racing a shot for 2010. However, within the first 10 minutes of riding the course here, I was questioning my sanity in this decision!! The course is definitely something I have never ridden or experienced, and I was wondering if we had found our way onto the DH course! Big boulders and huge drops…I was so scared. The first lap was ok, because I didn’t know what was on the other side, so I just sorta went. But the next couple days of pre-riding I let my brain get in the way and I wore my skirt. Going into today, I was feeling wracked in nerves of scariness. I still have nightmares of the Green Goblin from Spiderman, and the last two nights I was trying to get away from him, on my bike, going into these boulders. Then there were mirrors everywhere…have you seen the horror movie “Mirrors”? Well, it probably isn’t a horror movie, but maybe a suspense movie. Point being, I was feeling like an ultimate wuss.
But good news, it came together today. I cut my head off so I couldn’t think. I crashed a few more times, quite a bit harder than days prior, but I knew it was my final day to get my sh*t together. Taking my leg and arm warmers off (because I really don’t feel the same sense of fast-ness with those on), I set out on my hot lap. Suddenly the course was rideable! For the most part…
Tomorrow is the race…Wednesday, Sep 2nd at 2pm. So that’s something like Tuesday at 10pm in CO. Finally I’m looking forward to it…it’s nice when you’re not dreading the course…kinda brings the fun back. The last time my legs were this bruised and battered and, well, mostly purple, was after ‘cross Nats in Kansas City where hell had frozen over and we were riding on purely frozen ruts. At least I’m givin’ er’ eh?
OH, and we saw kangaroos! When I was here last February for Geelong WC, all we wanted to see was a kangaroo (typical Americans). When we drove from aeroport to hotel we saw a herd. Then, there was a herd on the course! They’re pretty darn cute and cool…as Simon says, “like cartoon characters, what a design f*ck up!”
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Rest in Peace little Brandy
Brandy Schnapps the Second passed away on Tuesday. She lived a great life from December 28th, 1991 to August 25th, 2009. That's a looong time, and I think the longevity is thanks to the happiness and affection from her best friend in the picture above.
Brandy was the best friend you could ask for when we were growing up in VT, and those memories will last forever. From when I couldn't keep up with her 2-inch legs climbing up Mount Mansfield, to when we would catch bullheads in the pond, and she would run off and leave them for Dan to flat his mountain bike tires. Brandy - thank you for bringing much love and laughter into our lives.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Monday, August 17, 2009
Windham Short Track
After going to the whip for about 2 hours in the cross country on Saturday, Sunday brought more throttling excitement with the short track race. Short track is a 20-minute all-out effort on a short circuit. The style is similar to that of cyclocross. This being my first short track race, I really didn't know what to expect... I just figured it would be similar to cross. The course started up the same start climb as the cross country, this time of about 500m before taking a hard downhill u-turn onto a rough descent. If you carried your speed well down that, you could carry it up a little rise and onto a fast straigh-away. The course then dove back down into a fast U-turn and back up a tough pitch before turning left onto a 200m finishing flat. Each lap lasted about 1m30.
At the fire of a shot gun we were sprinting off as if the gun were aimed at us. Up the climb, banging bars, a mean scramble to make the selection. By the end of the first lap the 25-woman field was reduced to about 10. By the third lap I was sitting in 8th place on Mary M's wheel with no one behind me. Willow went to the front and drove it hard because all her teammate, Heather needed was a top-5 to ensure her win of the overall. Eventually Mary opened a gap to the 6 and I noticed the gap too late. The 6-woman speed train took off for the remainder of the race. For a while Mary and I traded pulls, hoping to claw our way back on, but with no avail.
A wicked strong climber, Mary would consistently pull away from me on the climbs which I would just about reel back in before we embarked on the 500m again. She put a few seconds into me about half way through the race which would come down then go back up for the remainder of the race. The final 10 minutes were painful because it was just me, myself, and I staring at Mary-my-carrot and not gaining any distance...just pedaling hard, breathing hard, and hurting hard.
It was a solid first short track with an 8th place, and a little reminder of the work I have ahead of me before the great season of cyclocross!
At the fire of a shot gun we were sprinting off as if the gun were aimed at us. Up the climb, banging bars, a mean scramble to make the selection. By the end of the first lap the 25-woman field was reduced to about 10. By the third lap I was sitting in 8th place on Mary M's wheel with no one behind me. Willow went to the front and drove it hard because all her teammate, Heather needed was a top-5 to ensure her win of the overall. Eventually Mary opened a gap to the 6 and I noticed the gap too late. The 6-woman speed train took off for the remainder of the race. For a while Mary and I traded pulls, hoping to claw our way back on, but with no avail.
A wicked strong climber, Mary would consistently pull away from me on the climbs which I would just about reel back in before we embarked on the 500m again. She put a few seconds into me about half way through the race which would come down then go back up for the remainder of the race. The final 10 minutes were painful because it was just me, myself, and I staring at Mary-my-carrot and not gaining any distance...just pedaling hard, breathing hard, and hurting hard.
It was a solid first short track with an 8th place, and a little reminder of the work I have ahead of me before the great season of cyclocross!
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Windham XC
Vid vid:http://www.cyclingdirt.org/videos/coverage/view_video/235512-us-pro-xct-6-windham/198710-amy-dombroski-post-race-windham
With the Webcor season all wrapped up, with the energy to keep plugging away, with the fact that it's blueberry season in VT, and missing my dad, I decided to fly home to VT for the week. It just so happened that the same week there was a Pro XCT Mountain bike race going on just 4 hours away, in Windham, NY. So I booked a ticket on the darned United airlines who charge $175 to bring a bike. But I tactfully packed my itty-bitty mountain bike into an inconspicuous cardboard box, and wrote "Fragile: Artwork" on the sides. I was able to get in a few awesome rides around home base before trekking to NY.
The course at Windham will host a World Cup next season, so lotsa riders came out to get an idea of the course. The laps were fairly short - about 20 minutes each. It starts with a somewhat gradual gravel climb of 1k or so before turning right into the woods for a brief stint. Shoots you back onto a steeper but shorter climb, titled Alpe D'huez (...creative). Then it levels out for 500m before dropping you into dark and rooty woods, where you can't even see your front tire. A little scary to come mach-schnell into pitch black! Once your eyes finally adjust, you're straining up a bi*ch of a pitch and back into the open, over a long bridge, before another gut-wrenching gravel climb that leads to more climbing - this time on single track leading back into the woods. And so it goes like this, in and out of the woods. It was brutally hot and humid, so it was a relief to duck into the woods, but everytime I exited into the scorching sun I thought I was going to melt.
5 laps were on tap, and we began with a little start lap to prevent the riders from getting too bottle-necked into the single track. I got off to a great start, on the wheel of Katerina Nash. Hanging in the top 5 for that first time up "Alpe D'huez", I was pretty happy with my positioning, considering the feeling of my legs. I had this feeling once or twice before, and it feels like there is helium in my legs. I feel as though my legs are dislocated from the rest of my body...I could push them to infinite levels without them hurting, but it's as if I have no control over how hard I push. Very strange. So with this feeling I rode the first lap attached to Lea Davison's (who I grew up within VT) wheel. But the second time up the start hill everything fell apart, and my legs transformed from helium into lead. Talk about fighting the elements...
By the third lap I was begging for a coke, which I had meant to save for the final lap. I knew I had to drink, but it just wasn't happening...I kept forgetting and suffering more and more. Soon Pua came passed me and that deflated me even more. I tried to hold her wheel on the climb so I could follow her line through the technical stuff, but my legs seemed to have one pace. Eventually on the 4th lap, another girl came passed and, while I couldn't hold her wheel either, she became a pacing carrot for the final bit of the race. Otherwise I would have kept rocketing backwards! I picked up my pace on the 4th lap, really hoping to real the girl back in, but it wasn't in the cards. I was utterly exhausted when I finally crossed the finish line in 10th place and very very very thirsty. The heat and humidity had zapped me.
With the Webcor season all wrapped up, with the energy to keep plugging away, with the fact that it's blueberry season in VT, and missing my dad, I decided to fly home to VT for the week. It just so happened that the same week there was a Pro XCT Mountain bike race going on just 4 hours away, in Windham, NY. So I booked a ticket on the darned United airlines who charge $175 to bring a bike. But I tactfully packed my itty-bitty mountain bike into an inconspicuous cardboard box, and wrote "Fragile: Artwork" on the sides. I was able to get in a few awesome rides around home base before trekking to NY.
The course at Windham will host a World Cup next season, so lotsa riders came out to get an idea of the course. The laps were fairly short - about 20 minutes each. It starts with a somewhat gradual gravel climb of 1k or so before turning right into the woods for a brief stint. Shoots you back onto a steeper but shorter climb, titled Alpe D'huez (...creative). Then it levels out for 500m before dropping you into dark and rooty woods, where you can't even see your front tire. A little scary to come mach-schnell into pitch black! Once your eyes finally adjust, you're straining up a bi*ch of a pitch and back into the open, over a long bridge, before another gut-wrenching gravel climb that leads to more climbing - this time on single track leading back into the woods. And so it goes like this, in and out of the woods. It was brutally hot and humid, so it was a relief to duck into the woods, but everytime I exited into the scorching sun I thought I was going to melt.
5 laps were on tap, and we began with a little start lap to prevent the riders from getting too bottle-necked into the single track. I got off to a great start, on the wheel of Katerina Nash. Hanging in the top 5 for that first time up "Alpe D'huez", I was pretty happy with my positioning, considering the feeling of my legs. I had this feeling once or twice before, and it feels like there is helium in my legs. I feel as though my legs are dislocated from the rest of my body...I could push them to infinite levels without them hurting, but it's as if I have no control over how hard I push. Very strange. So with this feeling I rode the first lap attached to Lea Davison's (who I grew up within VT) wheel. But the second time up the start hill everything fell apart, and my legs transformed from helium into lead. Talk about fighting the elements...
By the third lap I was begging for a coke, which I had meant to save for the final lap. I knew I had to drink, but it just wasn't happening...I kept forgetting and suffering more and more. Soon Pua came passed me and that deflated me even more. I tried to hold her wheel on the climb so I could follow her line through the technical stuff, but my legs seemed to have one pace. Eventually on the 4th lap, another girl came passed and, while I couldn't hold her wheel either, she became a pacing carrot for the final bit of the race. Otherwise I would have kept rocketing backwards! I picked up my pace on the 4th lap, really hoping to real the girl back in, but it wasn't in the cards. I was utterly exhausted when I finally crossed the finish line in 10th place and very very very thirsty. The heat and humidity had zapped me.
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
HJK
My family from another family just had their first human kid on July 30th. Welcome to the world Henry Jackson Kelley...
Thursday, July 30, 2009
US Road Nationals Race Report
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eWvBj_BsBvI
With four foreigners on Team Webcor (who speak English pretty ok, I guess), and with Janel recovering from her crash, we found all 3 of us Americans in last night's team meeting begging our director, Karen to race the US National Championships with us. But no, we buckled down and decided our best bet was to use our legs AND brains for this race. We knew Tibco and ValueAct were to have eight riders each, so we knew they would be the aggressors, while we would pick our battles. Like a good milkshake needs to have the perfect combination of flavors, the combination of riders needed to be just right for us to chase or to bridge.
We also knew the course well, as it was the same course as the final day of Cascade - 4 laps of a 17-mile circuit with punchy climbs, fast descents, and wind-nipping straightaways. It's a great course because it can suit a scrappy climber as well as a gritty sprinter - it's anyone's guess who could be the victor.
The first few miles of the race began with an attack by Anna Milkowski, which led members of the bigger teams and a few strays out. Not gaining much ground, it was eventually reeled back in and it was groupo compacto until the first real climb. Amber Rais solo-ed off as we were cresting the climb (the same spot as her winning move last Cascade with Kristin Armstrong). Amber stayed off for about 2 laps, when the bunch eventually caught her as we were climbing the QOM climb from Cascade.
The Elite and Under-23 fields raced together, and anyone U23 had a number beginning with 800, whereas the Elites held numbers 1-100. Going into our 4th lap, I saw an 800-number attacking on the left. I was on the right side, on Alison Power's wheel, when she began her surge to catch onto Lauren Tamayo's wheel, who was surging to grab Chrissy Ruiter's wheel. Perfect flavors I thought!! We established a bit of a gap on the descent which was reeled back in at the top of the climb. Kori Seehafer shot off solo, quickly getting a gap. This grew up to 45 seconds through the rolling flats, until Karen told us to begin attacking. We wanted to make the climbers work so they wouldn't have so much turbo on the real climb. Katheryn put in an attack with authority, gaining a bit of distance before being swallowed. Rebecca countered that, leaving the peloton scattered and scrambling. As that was reeled in, I tried my luck, going up the left hand side. Meredith Miller of Tibco was hot on my wheel, and we rotated through the downhill. Looking back, we saw that Chrissy Ruiter of ValueAct, Kristen Lasasso of Mellow Mushrooms, and Jen McRae of Team Type 1 had bridged. My favorite flavors I thought!! Kristen drove the break hard up over the feed zone hill. After cresting that, Kori was in sight and Kristen and I worked together to reel her in. Our gap to the bunch had grown to a minute and a half. Chrissy and Meredith drove it up the big hill, but my climbing legs were there and I was easily able to stick to their wheels like glue. Jen fell off the pace and Kori was dangling as we turned our final pedal strokes over the hill. With 4k to go, Kristen was back to the front, and it was just Meredith, Chrissy, and myself behind her.
At 2k our comfortable gap had shrunk to 40 seconds when we learned that Evie, Mara, Powers, and Kat Carroll were chasing. Uh-oh, not my favorite. Meredith jetted off to the left hard, leaving Chrissy, Kristen, and I in her dust, looking at each other to chase. We somewhat organized, but Meredith had rockets on and held on for a big Win. I thought I had prime positioning as we entered the round-about with 250m to go, sitting 3rd on Kristen's and Chrissy's wheels, but when I jumped to get around, my legs were already in the purple zone and I had nothing left. I came across the line on Kristen's wheel in 4th place for the Elite field and the first Under-23 rider.
As we did all last week at the Cascade Cycling Classic, we rode a wicked team race. Thank you to Webcor Builders, Donn Kellogg at Challenge, KneadEd Massage, Coach Ben Ollett, Excel Sports, Andy at Oakley, Williams Wheels, Lance at Hudz, Mike at 1st Endurance, Chamois Butt'r, David at Skins, Stan's NoTubes, and Stefano at Kenda. You all make good performances tangible. And good is my favorite flavor.
With four foreigners on Team Webcor (who speak English pretty ok, I guess), and with Janel recovering from her crash, we found all 3 of us Americans in last night's team meeting begging our director, Karen to race the US National Championships with us. But no, we buckled down and decided our best bet was to use our legs AND brains for this race. We knew Tibco and ValueAct were to have eight riders each, so we knew they would be the aggressors, while we would pick our battles. Like a good milkshake needs to have the perfect combination of flavors, the combination of riders needed to be just right for us to chase or to bridge.
We also knew the course well, as it was the same course as the final day of Cascade - 4 laps of a 17-mile circuit with punchy climbs, fast descents, and wind-nipping straightaways. It's a great course because it can suit a scrappy climber as well as a gritty sprinter - it's anyone's guess who could be the victor.
The first few miles of the race began with an attack by Anna Milkowski, which led members of the bigger teams and a few strays out. Not gaining much ground, it was eventually reeled back in and it was groupo compacto until the first real climb. Amber Rais solo-ed off as we were cresting the climb (the same spot as her winning move last Cascade with Kristin Armstrong). Amber stayed off for about 2 laps, when the bunch eventually caught her as we were climbing the QOM climb from Cascade.
The Elite and Under-23 fields raced together, and anyone U23 had a number beginning with 800, whereas the Elites held numbers 1-100. Going into our 4th lap, I saw an 800-number attacking on the left. I was on the right side, on Alison Power's wheel, when she began her surge to catch onto Lauren Tamayo's wheel, who was surging to grab Chrissy Ruiter's wheel. Perfect flavors I thought!! We established a bit of a gap on the descent which was reeled back in at the top of the climb. Kori Seehafer shot off solo, quickly getting a gap. This grew up to 45 seconds through the rolling flats, until Karen told us to begin attacking. We wanted to make the climbers work so they wouldn't have so much turbo on the real climb. Katheryn put in an attack with authority, gaining a bit of distance before being swallowed. Rebecca countered that, leaving the peloton scattered and scrambling. As that was reeled in, I tried my luck, going up the left hand side. Meredith Miller of Tibco was hot on my wheel, and we rotated through the downhill. Looking back, we saw that Chrissy Ruiter of ValueAct, Kristen Lasasso of Mellow Mushrooms, and Jen McRae of Team Type 1 had bridged. My favorite flavors I thought!! Kristen drove the break hard up over the feed zone hill. After cresting that, Kori was in sight and Kristen and I worked together to reel her in. Our gap to the bunch had grown to a minute and a half. Chrissy and Meredith drove it up the big hill, but my climbing legs were there and I was easily able to stick to their wheels like glue. Jen fell off the pace and Kori was dangling as we turned our final pedal strokes over the hill. With 4k to go, Kristen was back to the front, and it was just Meredith, Chrissy, and myself behind her.
At 2k our comfortable gap had shrunk to 40 seconds when we learned that Evie, Mara, Powers, and Kat Carroll were chasing. Uh-oh, not my favorite. Meredith jetted off to the left hard, leaving Chrissy, Kristen, and I in her dust, looking at each other to chase. We somewhat organized, but Meredith had rockets on and held on for a big Win. I thought I had prime positioning as we entered the round-about with 250m to go, sitting 3rd on Kristen's and Chrissy's wheels, but when I jumped to get around, my legs were already in the purple zone and I had nothing left. I came across the line on Kristen's wheel in 4th place for the Elite field and the first Under-23 rider.
As we did all last week at the Cascade Cycling Classic, we rode a wicked team race. Thank you to Webcor Builders, Donn Kellogg at Challenge, KneadEd Massage, Coach Ben Ollett, Excel Sports, Andy at Oakley, Williams Wheels, Lance at Hudz, Mike at 1st Endurance, Chamois Butt'r, David at Skins, Stan's NoTubes, and Stefano at Kenda. You all make good performances tangible. And good is my favorite flavor.
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