Rain? In this economy???

Pie-o-neers

My shells? Shocked. My bams? Boozled. My flabbers? Gasted.

Actividad matinal

Toodlin n noodlin

After two weeks of non-stop dick-kicking, in which I was the dick-kickee getting annihilated every day, I was honestly wary to start this race. It's hilarious because the UCI ranking system might lead someone to believe that since a lot of these early-season races in Spain are .1 races, and therefore, two rungs below the highest level, that they are somewhat lower-key, and maybe that is true for the fanfare surrounding it all, but it certainly hasn't felt it in terms of the shear fire-power that is in attendance. 

Today's course, however, was noticeably more manageable than a lot of the days on Mallorca or in Valenciana insomuch as there was about 1000 fewer meters of elevation gain over the course of 50 more kilometers. Effectively, the course was divided into 3 climbs: 1) the breakaway establisher; 2) the main group selector; and 3) the final decider. 

Climb number 1 was the only one that I cared about. After so many days of feeling like I was floundering in the pack and making pour decisions, I decided to race this race in as calculated a manner as I possibly could, and I am honestly really proud of how I judged it. With the first 30 kilometers being downhill, I knew it would be shitfight at lightspeed and nothing was going to go until after we turned into this little town called Cieza, where the road narrowed and would deposit us at the base of a cat.3 climb where I was 100% sure the break would go. So, with that, I just floated to the best of my ability at the front for the first 30km and I actually--ACTUALLY--managed to position myself exactly where I wanted to be exactly when I wanted to be there going into the base of the climb. I was right in that nothing was going that first 30 kilometers. I just checked the the segment and the first 35 minutes that it took to get to Cieza we averaged--I repeat, AVERAGED--57kph, which is fucking insane, especially since when you're in the thick of the peloton and you're only really thinking of speed in terms relative to the person next to you, you actually don't feel like you're going all that fast. But then when the town was coming up, I knew I needed to cash a bullet to be on the front during the narrowing, and I did exactly that, and made it across the tiny bridge that started the climb in a small group of lower-tier teams that I was so sure was the break of he day...

...BUT IT WAS NOT. [sigh]. Once again, a day late and a dollar short. The group had reignited the racing into the town and they caught us just after we had started the the climb and I was getting bogged down from the effort to get there in the first place, and then a small group of riders launched overtop of us and of course that was the move and the bigger teams decided to block the road to recover on the climb. 

I will not lie to you, I was fucking livid. It felt like I had literally done everything right to be where I wanted and my intuition was perfectly correct, but to be that close again and to once again not make the move made me furious, and I carried that angry energy throughout a lot of the rest of the day, which I'll say here and now is not good. Don't do that. 

Part of the reason I wanted to be in the move so badly was because I genuinely felt like I had decent legs that day and I wanted to get up the road and just ride steady because I know that is the way I can be most effectively to the team because I just can't climb with the climby dudes, but I was also just so eager to not be in the peloton. Again, it all sounds like a cop-out and an excuse, but being a lower-tier team does relegate you to the back of the pack in the peloton's political hierarchy, and it is just so much harder when you're tailgunning. I know some people will, "Well just ride at the front if you can," but I'm being serious that other higher-tier teams will literally just ride you to the side of the road to the point where you have to hit your brakes and you're then pushed 30 wheels back and right back where you started. Being in the break, you avoid all of this nonsense and I think you end up saving so much energy because you don't end up doing a thousand microaccerlerations when the rubber-band effect forces you to sprint to stay on the wheel in front of you. 

ANYWAY. My fate was sealed, stuck in the group, the priority then moved to getting Kieran into position for Climb 2, the main group selector. Going into the base of that climb, the pavement was super dodgy and rough, but there was still juuuuuuuust enough room to try and finagle a couple accelerations to get Kieran up a little further. Cade, Stephen, Ethan, and I tried our best to do so, and at one point I was even sternly people, "MOVE." to see if it would actually work as we darted up the lefthand side of the road, and, shockingly, it kind did? I don't really recommend this because it's kind of a dickish thing to do, but I figured I'd have some fun and try it out and if you say something with enough authority, someone will listen to you, and hey, that's one fewer person you're behind. 

However, I was about to hit with some colossal bad luck because JUST as we were about to make a 90-degree lefthand turn onto the climb--and I mean literally within 50m of the turn--I hit a bump that sent my chain into a seizure and caused it to get so catastrophically wrapped around the crankarm that I had to stop, get off the bike, and unwind it before I could start pedaling again. Once I did get back on the bike, the group was already 45 seconds up the road and that. was. that. 

I rode as hard as I could up the climb to make it to a grupetto where Stephen was, and we linked up with several more folks to make a solid group of 20 folks, and I figured this was the group that we would be pulled with. We were told if we were further back than 15 minutes, the race organizers would pull us and we wouldn't be able to do the final lap of the race outside the city center. It's funny how time distorts itself so heavily when you are trying to make time cut or achieve the simple goal of being able to get a place finish. It ALWAYS feels like you an eternity back and that there is just no way that they will ever let you finish this freakin' thing. But sure enough, we rolled through the finish line, and while I was prepared to see an official standing in front of us blowing a whistle and signaling us to pull over, no such person appeared and we were granted the privilege(?) of getting to finish the thing out good n proper. 

Our group would roll through and actually go kinda really hard on the final climb of the day because making our way back to the city center and riding it in and calling it a day. 

Kieran had a great ride and finished 36th, only 2 minutes and some change down from the lead group, and I will tell you all right here and right now that that is a huge result, I don't give a shit what you tell me. These races are hard, and I think this was the first race that we were genuinely involved and active in a way that made us feel like bike racers again, and I'm grateful for that. 

It is now time for a bit of an off-period of racing after a busy three weeks, and some time to hopefully soak in the fitness, as they say. 

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Sam Boardman

Vuelta a la Región de Murcia “Costa Cálida”

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Rain? In this economy???

Pie-o-neers

My shells? Shocked. My bams? Boozled. My flabbers? Gasted.

Actividad matinal

Toodlin n noodlin

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