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Moab Slickrock

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Race Report: Criterium

The race: A six-corner, L-shaped crit in downtown Grand Junction. Flat, with the corner into the long section of the “L” being the most technical portion of the course-- in this one corner the road surface goes from asphalt (more friction) to slick sidewalk-like pavement and the road narrows signficantly. Finish is on the second longest section of the “L”, a long straight away. Laps are 1.8 km each and we would race for 50 minutes plus three laps. 

The Plan: Stay alive and finish everyone on our team (me, Eleanor, Jocelyn) as highly as possible to maximize points for the team omnium (points go 50 places deep). The field was roughly 60 people, a far larger crit than any normal women’s race, and the largest crit I’d ever done. In such a big race, positioning in the first couple of laps is crucial. We had three call-ups to the line for Berkeley. Since J. and I were more comfortable moving around in the pack we decided to give E. the first call-up to help her start close to the front of the race. J. and I would start about 25 riders behind her and our first job was to move up, move up, move up. After that, give everything to stay on wheel and just see what happens.

Lining up. (p.c. Ryan)

What Happened: 

Today the air was still and the sun was shining-- a stark difference from the last two days of racing. The fortuitous weather boded well for us Californians, and we all anxiously awaited our call-ups with short sleeves and no knee warmers. After about 15 names were called they called Berkeley for the first time and E. rolled up. 24 names later they called Berkeley again and I rolled over, and 11 names after that J. rolled out. I didn’t manage to get as close to E. as I did yesterday-- everyone was really pushing themselves as close to the line as possible. I waved cheerily at her from several rows back, unsure if I would make it up to her or not. The announcer said: “Ladies, you’ll go on the gun.” Deep breath and a single shot, no countdown. Here we go. 

No joke: those first few laps were the hardest crit experience of my life so far. The pros (like, actually a few pros) at the front of the race aimed to drive the pace as hard as they could to drop as many mere mortals as possible within the first couple of laps. J. and I started so far back and we had a lot of ground to make up.  All I could think about were two ideas. First, what our coach had said earlier: give everything to stay on when it’s hard, because it will get easier. And second: If you’re not moving up, you’re moving back. I saw E. riding in the pack ahead of me and aimed for her, using the corners to move up, sometimes being forced to stand up and sprint out of them. J. was close to me for most of this time. 

So much suffering in those first laps. Around 4 laps in a few riders crashed right in front of me in the narrow, technical corner. All I remember was all of a sudden  looking down in the road and seeing an arm with an MIT skinsuit on it right in front of my wheel. I somehow jumped to the side and got around, but had to dig to get back to the pack. The sight of bodies in the road struck a note of terror, and I resolved to exercise caution for the rest of the race. 

After about 5 laps (or 10 minutes) the pace started to ease up a little bit. I was able to keep myself in the top 10-20 riders at this point, and probably about 20 people had already been pulled from the race. J. was behind me but I was no longer sure were E. was. Just hang on, I thought, just hang on. 

And that’s what I did. Hung on, moved up, stayed upright. The laps got fast again after each prime lap, but the heavy hitters seemed to either not be able to or not want to, make a break. There were a couple attacks but I let other people chase.  I had a terrifying moment midway through the race, I went over a manhole cover and my handlebars slipped in the stem and rotated down-- the bike I’m borrowing has carbon bars and they were apparently not tight in the stem. So, suddenly I found my brakes pointing down. Fortunately no one was attacking so I sat up for a moment and wrenched up on the bars. Amazingly, they flipped back up and seemed to stick, but certainly I would have to be cautious. Not good. I contemplated taking a free lap to fix them, but I figured my best shot was to be careful and just hang on. Just. Hang. On.

With 5 to go another MIT rider attacked. She got about 10-15 seconds of gap but no one bridged. When we hit the narrow corner it looked like P. from Stanford (who still had four riders in the group at this point) had decided to chase. P. hit the corner fast, slid out and flew into the hay bale with another rider. J. and I avoided getting tangled up with them again but my stomach sank-- I was truly worried about her (it turns out the crash wasn’t as bad as it looked, she is apparently also OK. She even finished the race). So MIT stayed out there and the strong women in control of the race let her wear herself out. She was caught with 2 to go. It would be a sprint. 

Rounding the final two corners, remarkably, I found myself still in the lead pack of about 20. On the final stretch, my brain was saying: “Holy moley, you made it to the sprint” when it should have been saying “SPRINT NOW!”.  As usual, I perhaps reacted a bit to late. But apart from that I totally ignored my loose handlebars and sprinted. Beside me I saw a deep-dish carbon wheel and realized I had just edged by a Stanford racer, while on the other side Maddy from UCLA just barely edged by me. I rolled through the line and managed to breathlessly gasp “oh. my. god.” Our average speed was around 36.5 km/hr.

Later I would find out that I finished a respectable 12th, while J. got 32nd and E. got 36th. 

Afterwards, we drank cappuccinos while the boys suffered dutifully in their brutal, 70 minute crit. By the end of it, Jacob was exhausted, Juan could barely see (he forgot to blink during the race) and Reese’s foot was so sore he couldn’t walk. Juan and Reese both finished top 20, though, putting Cal Cycling in 6th place in the team omnium, just off the podium. We’re still proud, though. Also, turns out I was the 17th overall woman in the individual omnium (not too shabby out of 60!)

Tonight I ate a black bean burger, sweet potato fries, ice cream, and two slices of pizza. National’s 2017: DONE!

GO BEARS FOREVER!

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Race Report: Road Race

The Course: A 16-mile loop out in the mesas of Whitewater, Colorado with two significant climbs and three looong false flat sections: two trending up and one trending down. The first steep climb came after a long downhill false flat and was followed by a switchback-y descent. The second climb came after Land’s End Road, an uphill-trending false flat. After that second climb it’s a 2k flat/uphill drag to the finish. We would do the lap three times for a total of 48 miles. 4470 feet of climbing for the whole race. 

The Plan: Eleanor had a decent shot, given the elevation gain. My first goal was to work the first long downhill to help guide her to the front of the race, so she’d be ready to follow anything that may have tried to break away on the climb. After that, we’d see what happened. 

(photo cred: Mina)

What Happened:

At 6AM this morning I cracked open an eye in the darkness. I lied there for a moment trying to assess what was amiss before I realized I had been awakened by the sound of the wind swirling about the house, whistling down through the mesas. Oh god, I thought. Oh, god. 

Sure enough, it was windy up there. Ryan, Danie, and Jocelyn came along to see us off; when got to the course, put the bikes together, and kitted up. It was certainly not as cold as yesterday. I was nervous. A 60-person field is something you never experience as a amateur women’s racer in NorCal. This race would be different than any we’d done before in that respect at least.

We warmed up and rolled up near the start and waited to be called up-- in larger races this sorts out the order of the riders on the start line based on their previous race results. I told Eleanor to take the first call-up for Berkeley, because I was confident I could easily work my way through the field to reach her before the descent. After everyone was called, we all clustered together, I waved at E. about 5 rows ahead of me and shouted a cheery “see you soon!”. 

And then the gun! We were off on the first uphill false flat. I gradually filled in the gaps ahead and behind me, and I’m proud to say within a few minutes was right on E’s wheel, ready to dutifully deliver her to the climb. All was calm until few minutes later, we heard a loud crash behind us--apparently someone had shifted their rear derailleur into their wheel. For once it wasn’t me-- but I felt pretty bad for whoever it was, having been there. I tried to refocus on the road before we came into the descent. Colorado and Stanford went to the front and there were a few surges but nothing stuck. Snowflakes were falling all around us, and we all hit the first descent together. 

I did my best to move gradually up the front of the race throughout the duration of the descent and false flat, every so often peering behind me to catch sight of E.’s pink gloves to make sure she was there. Our plan worked beautifully, but the time we hit the bottom of the climb, I was third wheel and E. was right there, ready to follow attacks. 

A few people tried to push the pace, but nothing too serious. To my great surprise, I crested the hill with the leaders, E. as well. I guess at this point the field may have split behind us, but we were on the right side of it. So far so good. 

After a short flat section we hit the switchbacks. I typically like to really rail descents, and this is what I fully intended to do. What I didn’t expect was on the final righthand switchback, the wind switched to a full, powerful crosswind. The deep dish wheels I had borrowed for the race began to act a bit like sails. I had to make the tight right turn on the the false flat and pure headwind, but my bike started to jump around beneath me -- I couldn’t turn the front wheel. Instead of making the turn, I rode into the sand. I got blown off the road. Or as I told people later “went mountain biking”. 

I didn’t fall, but I saw the lead group vanish and E. zipped by me-- later I would learn that she had also gone off-road higher up on the descent. I got back on and burned a match -- big time-- to get back up to E. I knew that if I didn’t get up to that group, I would die in the wind. And I made it. We formed a chase with maybe 10-15 riders and started to rotate to try to get back up to the leaders, not really knowing how many were ahead or behind. Claire from UCLA and two riders from Stanford were there with us and we tried to organize real chase, but it was rough. A couple riders refused to rotate through. At this point the touch of asthma I have started to kick in and the other riders noticed. I haven’t had this happen in a while, and it may have been the altitude, but I kept rotating through nevertheless. I decided my job was to pull twice as much so E. could rest more for the climbs, and to protect her from the wind when I could.

Remarkably, I made it up the second climb as well. Through the start/finish I was working on the front and I heard the announcer call out something like: “Berkeley on front of the pack!” The pack? We’re the pack? Anyway, it gave me a small boost of encouragement. On the false flat we swept up a few extra riders, including our friend Danie from Brown U. whose effusive positivity really helped me through some darker times later on in the race. On the long downhill false flat I rotated on the front with Danie from Brown and a few other riders, and by the time we neared the first climb again, we could see the leaders up the road, we were close. 

On the climb, E. went up and drove the place a bit and to my surprise again, I stayed on. My breathing was still not great and was quite audible. But it was worth it, as at this point we had dropped a few riders out of our chase. I worked the descent again but was very cautious on the windy portion, and managed to stay on the road. The long slog up Land’s End was just that, and as we crested the second climb again we could see the the leaders up ahead. Some bystander yelled out “1:30 gap” and at that moment, Claire tried a very brave move to bridge up to them. No one went with her and a few minutes later she was back with us. By this point our chase group was down to maybe seven riders. 

On the downhill false flat I worked again, trying to make sure E. was able to stay fresh. We all made it up the hill together and I was second out of the descent. I looked back and didn’t see E. -- I sat up on the front for a minute to make sure she got back on. She did. One final long windy slog up Land’s end. Oof. And then the final climb-- about half way through we were still somewhat together, and E. let loose her attack, shattering the group. I felt my work was done and didn’t follow-- I rode in the final kilometer straightway watching the race ahead. Claire, Danie, and E. finished first out of our group. 

When I got to the finish I gave Eleanor a big hug, all smiles. Her final, epic attack was one I won’t soon forget. Our teammates and coach came up and hugged after, and we learned we had placed 18th and 23rd. Respectable! 

Later that day, Juan would put in a massive effort to come away with 25th place (out of 150) in the men’s race. A great day for Cal!

So, Cal Cycling is current 5th in the team omnium, and we’re aiming for a good final race in the crit tomorrow to keep it. Wish us luck! GO BEARS!

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Race Report: Team Time Trial

Our start time was 10:36AM, and while in Grand Junction the temperature was mid-40′s, we woke up and checked the weather station in Glade Park and found we’d be battling 36 F at our start, our coldest race yet. 

Waking up and getting ready was easy, having gotten our skinsuits and race wheels sorted out the night before, all we had to do in the morning was wake up, eat oatmeal, put on every single piece of warm clothing we’d brought from California, and drive up the Colorado National monument. 

The boys left a bit earlier than we did; Ryan offered to drive us separately to give us just a few more minutes out of the cold. When we arrived it certainly was 36 F as promised, but the wind was far less than yesterday. Only 9mph head-cross on the way out. We rolled into the parking lot to the sight of the Stanford riders warming up on trainers, and further back in the parking lot, the University of Wisconsin (including former Cal Cyclist and generally fantastic person Olivia!). One thing was clear-- these people were serious. We tried to be serious too and even though we didn’t bring trainers we put on all our layers, did a long warm up out on the road, then we watched the boys start and cheered obnoxiously. The cold wasn’t too bad. Morale was slowly creeping up, we were ready to go. 

We rolled up to the start line and the officials actually scanned our bikes for motors-- this I found incredibly exciting. Only one team went off before us: The Army. With one minute to go, we pulled off our extra layers and clipped in while the officials held us on our bikes. 3...2...1.. GO!

We had a plan worked out in terms of rider order and pull length, which I won’t go into great detail about but basically we decided to keep all four riders (remember: in TTT you can drop one person) until the turn-around 10 miles in. Jocelyn was the first one off the line and gave us a strong pull over the first little rise. Soon after that, we saw our men’s team approaching on the other side of the road, soon after they would finish with a solid 8th place. 

We were steady over the first climb before we dropped into the long, rolling valley. At that point we were all together and we started taking even length pulls of about 25 seconds. Working like clockwork, excellent. Our pace was fair and steady for a while and I began to feel nervous that we were too conservative. I tried taking longer pulls because a felt good, but the headwind was brutal. So perhaps this was a mistake. I saw a sign on the side of the road: 20K to go and groaned to myself. 

Nearing the turnaround, we started to come into view of the the Army team ahead of us, who had started two minutes before-- we had made up a lot of time on them. We hit the turnaround smoothly and by this point we’re all, perhaps with the exception of Eleanor, beginning to suffer. Danie rotated expertly off the front after the turnaround and we gained a lot on the army, eventually flying by them on the left. We had beat at least one team, for sure!

And next comes the frustrating bit. After passing, we had switched back into even rotations and a steady pace. All of a sudden on a short downhill I was on the front and I heard yelling behind me... the Army team was trying to pass us again! I couldn’t hear what they were saying to us and seeing as we had already made up two minutes on them there was no way I was slowing down for them, and I kept pulling. The moto ref pulled up beside me and said something I didn’t understand. Apparently what had happened (and I only learned this later), is the Army team had split our team, having merged in behind me and Danie and leaving Eleanor and Jocelyn behind. Apparently Eleanor had to pull Jocelyn back up to us as the moto ref sorted out the other team. It was confusing and a bit disruptive. 

Anyway, with everyone back on we kept going. I was really feeling it at this point. It was like this for a while, though the pulls were less even. There were two major rollers before the flat finish. On the second to last hill, Jocelyn decided to give it her all on a final “death pull” before dropping off. She came to the front hand gave a monster pull up the roller before pulling of and screaming “go go!” And then there were three. 

Up the last roller I was feeling burning in my legs and lungs. Eleanor was on the front and I had to yell “easy” to stay on. But Danie and I got over and it was flat from there on out. I managed to recover a little before the final push. We rounded the corner on the straightaway to the finish I screamed “GO!” from third wheel. We opened up with all we had left and sprinted to the line; nearly asphyxiated and having given what we could in those last 500 m. 

After catching our breath, we rolled around, spun out, and found Jocelyn. Hugs, smiles, and jokes abounded. We did it. No matter our result, our completion of the event was a huge victory for Cal Cycling. 

As it turns out, we placed 4th -- losing 3rd to CU Boulder by a mere three seconds (which I attribute to the scuffle with the other team. It bothered me a lot earlier today but I’m past it now. It is what it is). We also found out that Stanford had won and that the first four teams were only about a minute apart-- we had beaten Stanford by 40 seconds before in another, hillier race-- but they rode a great race today, and there you have it. We were close and we got to stand proudly on the podium amongst some amazing athletes. 

 Also fun fact-- our 4th place is the exact same result that our inspiration team (KH, JD, EE, and NH) got at Nationals all those years ago. I sense great things in the future for the women on this team both in cycling and in our professional lives. GO BEARS!

Road race tomorrow -- it’s a got a few hills. Time for some rest!

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TTT recon

Today we pre-rode the time trial course. It’s a 20 mile round-trip out-and back situated (and we didn’t realize this until the drive out) on top of the Colorado National moment. More Rock!

We arrived in Glade Park, Colorado, near the start and were greeted by a few friendly familiar faces from the Stanford team, who had just ridden the course. Next thing I noticed upon stepping out of the van was the wind. Let’s just stay the stop sign at the single intersection in the town was flailing violently from side to side as gusts of wind came by. And the 10 miles out would be into the wind. 

We kitted up and set out to test the course. The impression I got from the course profile was that it’s downhill out and uphill back: 

But that’s deceptive. What it actually is, is false flat trending down out (with some rollers), and false flat trending up back (with some rollers). Due to the 20 mph headwind, however, the downhill way out was waaaaaaay harder. 

All in all, though, it was a productive practice. We managed to find out that Eleanor’s rear wheel wasn’t properly seated in the frame (and easy fix-- this is why you practice!) and did some mock TTT. The 20 mph tailwind on the way home was a big boost, in both speed and confidence, so as we neared the end of our ride, spirits were high. 

Our race is 10:36AM tomorrow, the second team to start. We’re seeded a bit low because, as I mentioned before, Cal hasn’t done this event in four years. It turns out this works better for us, as the wind will be slowly increasing throughout the morning. My biggest worry now is the forecasted 36 F temperature...

But hey! Time to get some sleep and race in the morning. Here we go!

GO BEARS!

(Photo Credit: Juan)

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Made it safely to Grand Junction! We even pre-rode the road race course today, after a full day of driving. We’ve been at altitude for almost two days now. I’m a bit exhausted at the moment and can write more tomorrow. But I will say this: 

Rocks! On I-70 today we saw a lot of them. I kept wanting to exclaim: “This is like another planet!” But the truly awesome thing is that it’s not; it’s our very same Earth. There’s nothing alien about it. And here we are!

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We drove across the entire state of Nevada today with 12 -- yes twelve -- bikes. I-50 is, according to various forms of signage, “The Loneliest Road in America”. And indeed, it delivers: five ranges of mountains separated by infinite desert valleys, two one-street-towns that appear to have no people, and that wonderful yet unsettling feeling of your own smallness in our vast, empty West. 

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technical difficulties

Greetings from Ely, Nevada! Before I begin talking about this adventure-- there’s a bit of a back story having to do with equipment. In short: I won’t be riding my own bike at nationals. 

Last Tuesday, I decided to get some hard riding in at the Port of Oakland ride, a fast, technical weekly criterium practice down at the Port were a huge pack of local elite (and not-so elite) bike racers ride around a very fast lap. I love it but it makes me quite angsty. Apart from that, a portion of this lap included a section with decommissioned tram tracks that have been known to cause a pinch flat or two. It’s a great ride for a workout, but it’s not the safest thing to participate in, let’s be honest. 

So I rolled down to the Port, and I won’t say I didn’t have a feeling of dread as I climbed the overpass into the Port. I promised I would get out before the final sprint to avoid any crazy antics. 

I got into the pack, and the VERY FIRST TIME around the tram track, my chain popped off. I shifted frantically to try to get it back on. I am not sure what I did but whatever combination of bizarre forces at play just happened to rip off my rear derailleur and pulled it back into my wheel. I didn’t crash-- I got off and walked to the side of the road, not to worried yet because derailleur hangers are very easy to replace. Funny, I thought, and snapped a photo. When I took of the chain and pulled off the derailleur, I found that the derailleur pulley had in fact sliced through the carbon fiber on the seat stay of my bike, rendering it completely unrideable. That’s it, I thought, the Bianchi is done. Bewildered, I sat on the side of the Port ride and somewhat embarrassingly wept as the pack zoomed by not once but twice. 

It turns out-- these things are repairable. It will take a little time and the Bianchi will ride again. In the meanwhile, our coach picked me from the Port in a car and I sent out a social media flare for a bike to borrow for Nationals. Several people very kindly offered me their bikes (wow! thank you everyone!), and I ended up on my Cal Cycling teammate’s black spray-painted Tarmac (Specialized race bike) with full Dura-Ace (the best possible mechanical components from Shimano). It’s easily the nicest and lightest bike I’ve ever ridden (it’s 16 pounds... three pounds lighter than my bike) . I’m still playing with the fit a little, but geez it’s fast and fun. So we’ll see!

We’re in Ely, Nevada tonight and will reach Grand Junction tomorrow afternoon. 

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prologue

Hi everyone. Arielle here. This is my Nationals blog and I’m trying tumblr because I haven’t yet, and these kinds of things are fun. 

So here’s the story: The last year a full team of women represented the University of California, Berkeley at collegiate national championships was 2012. Five years ago! That year, local heroines Joanna, Katie, Erica, and Naomi took fourth place in the team time trial (TTT)-- an event were a team of four riders race against the clock on a set course, each taking turns in the wind. 

Road racing is a strange, tactical, beautiful, complicated sport. TTT on the other hand, is beautiful in its simplicity: go as fast as you possibly can, as a team, for a set distance. You’re only as strong as your team is strong. 

For the last two years I’ve been on Cal Cycling, I’ve been desperately trying to recruit three other women to do this event with me at Nationals. It’s a constant challenge, getting women into the sport, and I was fixated on the idea that if only I could get a women’s TTT team to Nationals again, we could break that critical mass barrier and other women would come to the team to learn that cycling is a sport for them and Cal is an amazing, supportive team. If You Build It, They Will Come. 

Alas, I’m no longer sure that we’ll break that barrier beyond this year, but nevertheless, this year that TTT dream is happening. We have four women: two rockstar triathlete crossovers, one rookie sensation (rising all the way from the C’s to the A’s in one season), and me. We’re headed to Grand Junction, Colorado to compete in the TTT, as well as the road race and criterium. 

We’re practicing self-efficacy and calling ourselves The Fastest TTT in The West. And we’re only half-kidding. We may be a bit of a rag-tag team but we’ve got clear eyes and full hearts. 

Colorado here we come!

[aeroarielle-blog]

hello world

We want to be the fastest TTT in the west. We like to go fast and don’t take ourselves too seriously. We’re traveling from Berkeley to Grand Junction for Collegiate Nationals in road cycling. We’re very aero.