The Heckler
You bring new meaning to the term SUCK
GLOUCESTAH - 2016 UCI Elite
Ouch. Today hurts. Really really bad. Send new legs, a masseuse and a Temperpedic mattress.
This weekend was pretty amazing despite it's hardships.
FRIDAY!
I changed at work into my kit and did my openers from the lot. This week was done off road, I haven't handled on grass in a while. HRM wouldn't connect. Dead battery? Can't be. Just replaced that maybe 6 months ago. Drove up to Morristown, supplied up at Marty's and hit Longfellows for a tuna sub. MISS LONGFELLOWS!
#raceweight
Drove up to Mendon, MA to crash at my buddy's place. Ended up being 4:30 to there. Met his new dog named Doug. Doug is a rescue and former racing greyhound. Doug has an ass. Doug's ass might be bigger than mine. Have you ever seen a dog with glutes? Friday was a first for me.
Saturday morning was oatmeal and coffee chills with Jack, Amanda and Doug the dog. I had peanut butter, almonds and pear in my oatmeal. Don't know how I felt about the pear.
Another 1:30 to Gloucester with an arrival at 11:00AM. Crew was there and camp was set. Matt scooped a primo location somehow right at the top corner across from the finish line officials. The crossing was right next to us to the infield/fair area.
Nutrition. I... need to think about getting my shit on the rails a little better. I've been getting cocky. Eating everything. Nothing good. Back a couple years ago the sausage guy sold out by the time I was done racing. Last year I decided I would get one 3 hours before and would eat half before my race and half after. This year I planned to do the same. Around 12:30 I happily paid my $7 and received my sausage. Peppers, onions brown mustard, great hoagie roll.
I'm in full kit. Not skinsuit but bib, jersey and euro-shell. I suddenly become immensely self conscious because I think someone is going to see me eating a sausage pre race and judge me. So I do the only logical thing - I hide in the bushes by the podium gazebo and eat my secret sausage sandwich. Possibly a new low point of my life.
But god damn was it delicious. I was relieved when Matt showed up 30 minutes later with his own sausage sandwich. He said "I saw Durrin eating one." Totally justified my indulgence.
Actually got a pretty decent call up. 44/73 - midpack-ish - 5th row.
Pre-rode a bunch. The course changes so damn fast at Stage Fort. By the time it was elite race time every single corner was blown out and a dusty mess. I should say every corner was either loose dust, marbles, or marbles on dust. Rough conditions, not my strong suit.
I line up feeling pretty good, nervous but my head is totally in the game. GO! I make a strong sprint and slot in in the mid 20's. SIIICK! Pace is hot but I'm riding with a strong group and barely getting passed. I find Matt and we ride together for basically the first half of the race. I was mostly only struggling on the tight grass infield and this one left right dust acorn corner which has been the bane of my existence for 4 years now. Power is there, legs are on, HR is, well who actually knows, probably through the roof but NO HRM. Maybe I was actually just dead.
I had a group of 4 or 5 friends in the beer garden. Every time through was NUTS! SO LOUD, SO MUCH SUPPORT, so much love! On my 5th lap I was sitting strong in about 28 or 29. Through the dusty beer garden off cambers I took a shit line, grabbed too much brake and washed out. I rolled, grabbed my bike by the seat stay as it bounced off the ground, spun, kept forward momentum and only lost 1 spot and 5 bike lengths to Matt. BUT MY HOOD WAS TURNED IN, and my shifting was off. Praise the baby jesus, I was only one straight away from the pit.
I get in and Cesar has Matt's bike in hand, he makes quick moves and has mine out in just a few seconds. I drop my A bike on the rack and rip out on the B. I do all of my training on the B so I felt right at home, but damn was that front brake an on-off switch! Almost killed myself in a few corners. I go out with vengeance and am fighting to get spots back. Maybe a little too hard.
Second time by the pit that lap Cesar called that my A bike is already fixed. I wanted back on the A. I do my first fell speed bike handoff. DIRTY SIDE BABY! I get a cheer for the goofy foot bike swap and get back on the gas. Feels good to be back on the A-bike rocket ship.
With 3 to go I start tasting sausage. O god. Shouldn't have eaten the whole thing. Half was the magic ticket I think.
Also totally realize the race isn't any slower 15 spots back from where I was. It's the same fucking pace, and I burned a ton of matches leaving the pit with the dial turned to 11. I come through and see 2 to go. I start thinking about tomorrow and how well I rode the first half of the race. I think I can either fight to stay lead lap or take it easy and get pulled, recover and hit it hard again tomorrow. I take that 2 to go lap easier and am only riding to hold my position.
That last half lap I'm listening to the announcers calling the front of the race. Curtis White is off the front and it sounds like he's riding a spot I was just on. I turn a 180 and see him two straights behind me. WOAH MAN! Okay. Gonna get pulled. Cool. I'm done.
I hit the s/f pavment climb and the UCI official yells "GO FASTER!!!" as I come by. Funny, that's not a "you're done."
The metal fencing is LINED with fans waiting to see the finish. There is a row of photographers out just passed the finish. I come through with a stupid fake post up, high 5 a photographer and again, NO ONE TELLS ME TO STOP. 8 seconds or so behind me the race ends for the winner and I go out for one last lap!
As everyone is running to the s/f my friends are running back to the beer garden. Lap 9 is a total tempo lap and I enjoy yelling at everyone and everything on and around course. One last time through the ghost town beer garden with only my crew screaming like maniacs and a post up for the lead lap Lanterne Rouge - 45th/68
Lap times
7:49
7:12
7:20
7:24
7:47
7:34
7:41
7:59
8:14
Despite the data my moving time was 1:08:57, not 1:02
https://www.strava.com/activities/745798890
I was actually super high energy post race despite the crash and having pitted twice. I was riding really well for half the race which is huge progress from Nittany and KMC where moved backwards faster then the French in WWII. Very happy, and stoke is HIGH!
Dinner got a little silly... Supreme 3 way roast beef and small fry.
Actually, I'm fine with dinner. It's dessert that actually got silly. This small was probably 1/2 a pint, but damn was it good.
Crashed at Gloucester Inn by the Sea with Matt and Clio. I was on the air mattress, horrible, horrible sleep.
Saturday rool'd. My friends rool, grateful for the amazing support from my team and feeling lucky I get to do this bike racing thing. Stay tuned for a similar but different story about Sunday.
Ouch. Today hurts. Really really bad. Send new legs, a masseuse and a Temperpedic mattress.
This weekend was pretty amazing despite it's hardships.
FRIDAY!
I changed at work into my kit and did my openers from the lot. This week was done off road, I haven't handled on grass in a while. HRM wouldn't connect. Dead battery? Can't be. Just replaced that maybe 6 months ago. Drove up to Morristown, supplied up at Marty's and hit Longfellows for a tuna sub. MISS LONGFELLOWS!
#raceweight
Drove up to Mendon, MA to crash at my buddy's place. Ended up being 4:30 to there. Met his new dog named Doug. Doug is a rescue and former racing greyhound. Doug has an ass. Doug's ass might be bigger than mine. Have you ever seen a dog with glutes? Friday was a first for me.
Saturday morning was oatmeal and coffee chills with Jack, Amanda and Doug the dog. I had peanut butter, almonds and pear in my oatmeal. Don't know how I felt about the pear.
Another 1:30 to Gloucester with an arrival at 11:00AM. Crew was there and camp was set. Matt scooped a primo location somehow right at the top corner across from the finish line officials. The crossing was right next to us to the infield/fair area.
Nutrition. I... need to think about getting my shit on the rails a little better. I've been getting cocky. Eating everything. Nothing good. Back a couple years ago the sausage guy sold out by the time I was done racing. Last year I decided I would get one 3 hours before and would eat half before my race and half after. This year I planned to do the same. Around 12:30 I happily paid my $7 and received my sausage. Peppers, onions brown mustard, great hoagie roll.
I'm in full kit. Not skinsuit but bib, jersey and euro-shell. I suddenly become immensely self conscious because I think someone is going to see me eating a sausage pre race and judge me. So I do the only logical thing - I hide in the bushes by the podium gazebo and eat my secret sausage sandwich. Possibly a new low point of my life.
But god damn was it delicious. I was relieved when Matt showed up 30 minutes later with his own sausage sandwich. He said "I saw Durrin eating one." Totally justified my indulgence.
Actually got a pretty decent call up. 44/73 - midpack-ish - 5th row.
Pre-rode a bunch. The course changes so damn fast at Stage Fort. By the time it was elite race time every single corner was blown out and a dusty mess. I should say every corner was either loose dust, marbles, or marbles on dust. Rough conditions, not my strong suit.
I line up feeling pretty good, nervous but my head is totally in the game. GO! I make a strong sprint and slot in in the mid 20's. SIIICK! Pace is hot but I'm riding with a strong group and barely getting passed. I find Matt and we ride together for basically the first half of the race. I was mostly only struggling on the tight grass infield and this one left right dust acorn corner which has been the bane of my existence for 4 years now. Power is there, legs are on, HR is, well who actually knows, probably through the roof but NO HRM. Maybe I was actually just dead.
I had a group of 4 or 5 friends in the beer garden. Every time through was NUTS! SO LOUD, SO MUCH SUPPORT, so much love! On my 5th lap I was sitting strong in about 28 or 29. Through the dusty beer garden off cambers I took a shit line, grabbed too much brake and washed out. I rolled, grabbed my bike by the seat stay as it bounced off the ground, spun, kept forward momentum and only lost 1 spot and 5 bike lengths to Matt. BUT MY HOOD WAS TURNED IN, and my shifting was off. Praise the baby jesus, I was only one straight away from the pit.
I get in and Cesar has Matt's bike in hand, he makes quick moves and has mine out in just a few seconds. I drop my A bike on the rack and rip out on the B. I do all of my training on the B so I felt right at home, but damn was that front brake an on-off switch! Almost killed myself in a few corners. I go out with vengeance and am fighting to get spots back. Maybe a little too hard.
Second time by the pit that lap Cesar called that my A bike is already fixed. I wanted back on the A. I do my first fell speed bike handoff. DIRTY SIDE BABY! I get a cheer for the goofy foot bike swap and get back on the gas. Feels good to be back on the A-bike rocket ship.
With 3 to go I start tasting sausage. O god. Shouldn't have eaten the whole thing. Half was the magic ticket I think.
Also totally realize the race isn't any slower 15 spots back from where I was. It's the same fucking pace, and I burned a ton of matches leaving the pit with the dial turned to 11. I come through and see 2 to go. I start thinking about tomorrow and how well I rode the first half of the race. I think I can either fight to stay lead lap or take it easy and get pulled, recover and hit it hard again tomorrow. I take that 2 to go lap easier and am only riding to hold my position.
That last half lap I'm listening to the announcers calling the front of the race. Curtis White is off the front and it sounds like he's riding a spot I was just on. I turn a 180 and see him two straights behind me. WOAH MAN! Okay. Gonna get pulled. Cool. I'm done.
I hit the s/f pavment climb and the UCI official yells "GO FASTER!!!" as I come by. Funny, that's not a "you're done."
The metal fencing is LINED with fans waiting to see the finish. There is a row of photographers out just passed the finish. I come through with a stupid fake post up, high 5 a photographer and again, NO ONE TELLS ME TO STOP. 8 seconds or so behind me the race ends for the winner and I go out for one last lap!
As everyone is running to the s/f my friends are running back to the beer garden. Lap 9 is a total tempo lap and I enjoy yelling at everyone and everything on and around course. One last time through the ghost town beer garden with only my crew screaming like maniacs and a post up for the lead lap Lanterne Rouge - 45th/68
Lap times
7:49
7:12
7:20
7:24
7:47
7:34
7:41
7:59
8:14
Despite the data my moving time was 1:08:57, not 1:02
https://www.strava.com/activities/745798890
I was actually super high energy post race despite the crash and having pitted twice. I was riding really well for half the race which is huge progress from Nittany and KMC where moved backwards faster then the French in WWII. Very happy, and stoke is HIGH!
Dinner got a little silly... Supreme 3 way roast beef and small fry.
Actually, I'm fine with dinner. It's dessert that actually got silly. This small was probably 1/2 a pint, but damn was it good.
Crashed at Gloucester Inn by the Sea with Matt and Clio. I was on the air mattress, horrible, horrible sleep.
Saturday rool'd. My friends rool, grateful for the amazing support from my team and feeling lucky I get to do this bike racing thing. Stay tuned for a similar but different story about Sunday.
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