Preparing for a Bike Race-Tour De 'Port

Do not ever eat a cheeseburger before a bike race unless you intend not to be in the race. Yes, I made that mistake even recently. I carried an undigested cheeseburger with me across the finish line of a race that should have been much easier on me and was virtually crippled by it. That's one of the many reasons I'm a Category 5 racer. They may even have demoted me to Category 6A or B (this category does not exist) as punishment.

Real cyclists/athletes, and even me, have preparation that goes on all year leading to the racing season and which occurs during the hours preceding the race of the day. Last weekend I attempted 2 criteriums on consecutive days for the first time, the Tour De 'Port (Portsmouth) on Saturday, and the Tour De 'Peake (Chesapeake) on Sunday. Wasn't sure how much recovery I would need for a race the following day, but I wanted to test my fitness and see.

Oh yea, the cheeseburger---I ate it 2-1/2 hours before my start time at 'Port. That's plenty of time to digest it right? Ha! No!

When I arrive at a criterium, the first thing I want to do is register and get my bib. This is the number I'll wear during the race. Usually, like the other racers, I end up parking in an outlying parking lot or a parking garage. In Portsmouth, it was a parking garage on the perimeter of the race course and the TODI Music and Sidewalk Festival. I rode my bike over to the registration table and signed in and got my number.

There was a guy next door who was offering computer chips at no charge that we could mount on our chain stays. With them he could track our specific bikes through the race course and give the race officials our split times, average times,
and fastest laps, and verification of finishing order I suppose. About now everybody's feeling real special. Faster would've been better.

Two Cat 4 riders, Robert and Mark and one of the Cat 5 riders from our club, Mike B. are in the parking garage inside the race course perimeter. Ricky D. and I, both Cat 5's, are together in the other garage. Ricky and his friend Megan, arrive and Ricky registers. My cheeseburger and I return to our garage to warm up.

There is a race in progress led by two motorcycle cops every lap and we must carefully cross the course after the racers pass us. There is a bandstand with live music. Families walk the sidewalks along the race course, racers and their friends watch the race and mill nervously around. Most try to stand in shade to watch the race as it's low 90's and high humidity. Teams and clubs are grouped together along the course. Sidewalk cafe-goers are feasting in the heat planted at tables under trees along the way, some 50 yards upstream of the finish line.

Preparation: Warm-up is absolutely essential for me. I prefer a stationary trainer at the tailgate of my pickup. A cold Gatoraid beside me, a towel draped over my handlebars, an ipod with Jeff Beck's "You Had it Coming" screaming me out of my comfort zone. The stationary trainer is best for me for warming up in strange places because I can control the warm up tempo and how constant and steady it is. They say a long warmup is best for short, fast races, and shorter warmups are often best for long races, like road races maybe longer than 40 miles. The thinking on this seems to be that longer races usually begin slower and that warmup can take place largely during the first part of the race. Only the individual rider can decide what works best for him.

My warmup starts very slow and builds to the point where I'm doing one or two sprint intervals at the end. I'm trying to warn my body of what's about to happen to it.

I finish the warmup. I put things back in my truck, take my bike out of the trainer, fold the trainer, lay it in the truck bed, close the tailgate and rear window, lock it up. I'm concentrating real hard on all the little details now. My tires are pumped up rock hard just under 120 psi, the way I like to ride them. I have one gel and my glasses in my jersey pocket. I'll eat the gel at the starting line so it'll get in me during the race. The glasses are there so that I can inspect my bike closely after a crash. That way I'll know whether it can be ridden or not immediately, or whether an adjustment on the spot will do the job or not. The details have to be right. The tiniest thing missing or not right when your physical limits are being exposed can be excruciating.

To say an amateur racer has a special bond with their bike when they must count on it in a race would be an immense understatement. I am this way. I don't have an extra bike following me through a race or on the sideline of a criterium that I can snatch on the moment of mechanical breakdown or crash. It is just this one. It is everything.

The Category 4 race is right before our Cat 5 race today. I show at the sidewalk beside the course, stand near the finish line in time to see the last few laps.

The bell rings indicating the final lap. Minutes later I see riders rounding the monument at the end of the street, the setup for the sprint to the finish line. I squint into the sun, recognizing the body language of one of two riders who appear to be on the front. They're closer now. Is it Robert? No. Yes! He's hammering off the front, set up perfectly for the win. As he streaks toward the finish the peloton pour around the corner behind him chewing up the distance between them and to the finish beyond me. Other riders rocket up the edges of the course. A few pass my teammate right before the line. He finishes strong in sixth.

When you see a teammate finish like that, setting himself up so perfectly for a win, and you are at the start of your race with the same jersey, I must say it is a sure motivator. We have a moment to take a lap around the course while the Cat 4 riders recover. We come back around and stop, me with my front wheel squarely on the line. Ricky lines up on my wheel with Mike on his the way we usually start.

By this point in the season there are riders we know from the other clubs. I mean we know the ones to keep an eye on---the strong ones who will put the hammer down and are capable of winning. One such team has lined up on the outside. Their big time trialist will be marked closely. It seems I'm taking an adrenaline drip into my bloodstream by now. It's about nothing but the moment from here until the last pulse of energy drains away over the line at the finish.

As crits go, this one was relatively easy. Ricky and I rode as part of the front 10 riders the whole race. I didn't want to fight off attacks by solo riders racing up from behind (as did most of us), attempting to break away from the main field. It was too damn hot! So when we saw them coming up the outside from behind, me or someone else would yell "break" and the whole front group would stand up on pedals and surge as the lone rider or two would go by, gaining only about 15-20 yards on us before we would easily break them, and pull them humbly back into our scolding ranks.

The cheeseburger and I were hanging tough. I was seeing visions and even hearing it suggest once that we should abandon the race. Just where I want to be: me and my secret cheeseburger watching others finish the race. We finally heard the bell ring. Last lap now!

We approached the monument run-up to the finish line and the inevitable surge by the peloton. We wrapped the last corner fast. The cheeseburger and I couldn't muster much of a sprint. But Ricky was off the front giving it to them. He crossed first completely alone crushing the nearest rider with the bike lengths between them.

The cheeseburger and I finished 17th of 35 riders that day. It will be the only time I ever carry one through a bike race again.