My First Race

First Inklings

It was 2001 and a friend of mine had told me he did a race at the Avalon area of Patapsco state park and told some story about it being very difficult. Later that year, I went biking with a coworker of Sharone’s. Im sure the story at her work went something like, “Oh.. you bike? You race too? Oh.. cool. My husband Gary bikes. Maybe you guys can go biking sometime?” “uhh.. sure.. ok”. So early on a Saturday I met up with Russ at Fountainhead regional park in Fairfax county. The trail is mostly comprised of rolling hills, with some ruts and short steep descents, but nothing too technical or challenging. Russ was off. Way ahead of me. Every ten minutes or so he’d slow up, to be sure if I was still alive. After one 40 or so minute loop, I was toast. “This was a good ride. We should do this again.” “I’m doing another loop or two. You up for it?” I hadn’t even contemplated this scenario. Again? This was hard?! And fast paced. A good workout. And he’s going for this again? Two loops?! This goes beyond just a ‘fun ride’. This is like.. dare I say.. a training ride. I hadn’t thought about making that jump from ‘recreational rider’ to ‘race training rider’. “Uhh. No. I’m cool. This was a good ride for me. I’ll catch you next time.”

First Race

Next year, May 2002. Atlantic Mountain Bike Series championship race, Greenbrier State Park, MD. I thought I’d sign up for my first race. I’ve done this course a bunch of times. It was TOUGH. There are big hills that I have to walk even when I’m not racing. When I ride this, I do one loop and I’m done. This race, however, is two loops, probably something like 12 hard miles. I’ll do well. The elevation is a little higher there, so it can be up to 10 degrees chillier than home. Through the thick fog it was probably in the mid 40s that early in the morning. I signed up for ‘beginner’. So, what's my strategy? Well, of course, sprint really hard from the start, get a good lead, and then just hang with it for the rest of the race. Easy shmeezy

The starting lineup comprised a motley sort of 50 or so people, lined up on a grassy ridge. I shimmied my way toward the front, and found a nice spot in the second row. My eyes fixated on the calves of the two guys in front of me. Holy shit they’re huge! Ok, so I guess I wont take first or second place. The starting gun blows. We’re off, and almost immediately we’re into the first climb. I remember from my recreational rides that it’s a tough climb, but I can do it without walking. In a race situation adrenaline should just push me right up it. I was on a sprint right from the start, keeping with my strategy of getting out in front and holding it. The first two riders sped off way in front, and that was ok, I was holding my position at third place well into the first climb. Then, something strange happened. My legs started feeling really heavy. Huge weights were hanging from my feet. I felt no pain, adrenaline was pumping hard. My legs were slowing, like a locomotive engine that just ran out of coal. I wasn’t tired, my legs just wouldn’t work. I pushed and I pushed, my speed slowing, my legs like concrete setting. Luckily I was near the top and I survived the first climb. The condition I had I now know is called lactic acidosis. When you physically exercise your muscles anaerobically, lactic acid is produced as a byproduct. Normally your body can naturally clear the acid from your muscles. However, if you are working too hard, your muscles will produce way more than they can clear and could result in so much acid that could lead to rapid fatigue, or in my case, for my muscles to freeze almost solid.

The race continued on, my legs feeling a little better after cresting the mountain. The grueling climbs continued, but by this time my sprint speed had decreased and I was merely fighting to keep moving forward. I walked some of the big climbs. One ace in my hole was that I was an awesome descender. I could tear down rocky, rutted, gnarly hills faster than anyone, and I took this strategy to the max. The only problem was I didn’t know the course very well, so several times I missed the hairpin turn at the bottom of the hill. In one case I barreled right through the yellow marker barrier tape. Ultimately the strategy may not have helped much, but it made me feel better. As I made it through the finish area signifying one of two loops completed I was feeling horrible and couldn’t imagine in front of me lied the torture of another loop. As I was rounding, I heard someone counting, “4… 5”. 5? I think I’m in fifth place. This is possible. I don’t recall too many people passing me. I wasn’t really in fifth place, but I didn’t know that at the time, but I wanted to believe it, so I did. However, I slowed to a crawl on my second loop, barely having the energy to do the climbs, and spent a lot of time walking up the hills, as riders one after the other passed me. Near the end of the second loop I felt so rattled by the course that my insides were hurting. I thought the bouncing was literally causing my kidneys to hurt. After every bump I felt sharp pains inside. Thankfully by then I was near the finish. By the end of the race I felt a great deal of accomplishment. But now I also had a “been there, done that” feeling about racing, and was in no hurry to do it again.