velomuse (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} djmuse) wrote,@ 2005-07-25 10:25:00 |
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downieville classic race report
This weekend was huge, and I always knew it would be. I just didn't know how small that town was. Apparently, Downieville is a gold-mining town, and not much of the architecture has changed since 1870. All 2 dozen of the city storefonts have that Western, saloon style font. Apparently, people still stake their claims and mine for gold. The elevation of the race start was about 3'000 feet in Sierra City, so there are Sierra trees hugging the rugged mountain sides amongst the cosy lodge-style homes. Throughout the race course, you could hear the snowcapped mountains' melting water runoffs creating waterfalls into the Yuba River below. It's really like no other place I have been before, but sections reminded me of different parks I ride in. This is the race website.
The climb aka "Trail of Tears" was a rideable grade like Chabot's Brandon trail going clockwise, but about 10 times longer and much looser at the top (7,100' elevation)). That exposed trail cleared the way for the sun to beat down at us, at degrees nearing 100 I am sure. After riding to a place where I felt we were getting level with the trees on the horizon of the adjacent mountains and I could see the folding trail along the mountain side for miles, below - I thought we were almost done. There was a water stop, and it turned out we were only 4 miles done with it, or halfway. At this point our beginner/juniors/clydesdale group had found similar batches of skill level and we would repeatedly pass each other or ride alongside, chatting about the Tour who each of us was invoking on this horrible climb. I saw someone on the side of the fire road lunging in pain. I offered him a packet of Emergen-C. He was ever grateful. I also realized I hadn't eaten enough for breakfast. I knew it was a long climb, and watched the 3 other women I had seen at the race start pass me, and so I paced myself to catch up later. When I realized they were really making a gap and I heard the end of pack motorcycle coming up a mile or so behind me, I picked up my pace.
I guess I ditched the two guys I had ping-ponged with before, but they caught up at the top of the babyheads section near Butcher Ranch (or is it Pauley Creek trail?) where I wanted to stretch my hands out before the descent. I had ridden this the day before and remembered how ridiculous it was. The closest thing to this trail I can make a connection with my local trails, is maybe Chapparel in Joachin Miller Park - only this one was longer and with more loose rocks. Come to think of it, I don't think I have attempted it at all this year, and I probably should after I am recovered. The constant jarring and tension shoulders from descending down a heap of rocks the size of your fist for almost a mile, had the biggest overall impact on me from the whole ride. Both days. This is where my faithful hard tail would often chose a line of its own and I would have to wrestle it for safety's sake. My rear wheel bounced everywhere. I had put beefy tires on it (Ritchey Z-Max), the week before and accidentally put one facing the wrong direction. I am not sure if that helped or hurt, but I didn't get a flat and I had a fair amount of traction on the climb. I hadn't checked my tire pressure with a gauge on either the pre-ride or the day of the race. I hand-checked it and was satisfied because it felt right for the terrain we would be on.
When I got to the bottom of the babyheads section and was about to cross the bridge, I unclipped and shook my hands out for a minute and grasped my handlebars gently whenever I could, for the next mile or so of descent. I alternated the squatting leg or just soft-pedalled as well, so I didn't cramp. This worked for me, and I saw about a half dozen people cramped up after the creek crossing at the bottom, near Pauley Creek. This reminded me of the lower section of Mount Diablo, with its numerous creek crossings. This creek crossing was about 20 feet wide, and over a foot deep with all those babyheads in its bed. I tried to ride through it, and halfway across, pulled a cyclocross run through the creek and up the bank flying back onto the bike. It was GREAT to pass all those people, even though they were suffering and didn't want help. One of the two guys from the climb resurfaced here, and he passed me when I stuttered on a slippery rock with no hurt feelings. For how many people were out on the trails at this time, the singletrack was relatively clear. Every now and then, I would see someone cramped up or fixing a flat, but mostly people were just negotiating the obstacles with their learned techniques. I am proud to say that I rode through things that I saw many others did not. And on the other hand, while riding some very simple sections, I dabbed because I was getting tired.
I did a lot of dabbing, especially on the singletrack that ran along the canyon wall. I think this is called the Third Divide, basically a tunnel of trees with outcroppings of slate rock (read: sharp), sometimes crossing scenic bridges over the Yuba River and sometimes descending steep pathways lined with cinderblocks. I understand the meaning of "pucker factor" now. I kept thinking that I was getting close to the end, when we would enter pavement, only to get back onto more singletrack again. This was really wearing on my nerves. I hadn't memorized how many pavement sections there were after the baby heads, the day before. I was mentally exhausted and my thumbs hurt. It was difficult to shift gears because I had put so much pressure on my hands throughout the race, and I just wanted to sit down and eat some food. I was doubly frustrated because there were non-racing bikers on the course towards the bottom that were difficult to pass. One of them, possibly a local, grabbed my wheel and stayed there not trying to pass. It was making me nervous and I tried to drop her, but couldn't. I figured she probably hadn't ridden the previous 20 miles, and thus justified asking her to kindly pass. I felt a lot better without her staring at my rear end, and resumed my focussed pace. Finally, when we entered the streets of Downieville and completed 17 miles, 5,700’ of descending, I realized how fast I was moving. I still had some power in my legs, but not much. I moved fast, and was disappointed when I saw the timeclock at the finish: 4:12. I was way off my target, even though I had no mechanicals nor long breaks. I need to move about 10% faster next year in order to not finish DFL (although I didn't look at results). For now, I feel like I did pretty well and accomplished many smaller goals - and I had a great weekend hanging out with awesome people. [edit: results are now up, and I finished DFL out of the people that finished in my category, and yet still there were sports that finished later than me in the same age group and tons in other categories! Maybe if I upgraded categories, I would actually push myself harder? On the brighter side of things - WOMEN mtbers are BAD ASS!!]
HRM stats:
HI: 0:03, LO:0:49, IN: 3:19
Ave BPM: 163
Max BPM: 228?! (interference, hopefully)
Recovery BPM: 149
kCal: 2261
I left my cyclometer at home the whole weekend, but here's the posted details:
28 miles
4,400’ ascent with 5,700’ descent
Link 1, and Link 2 to the professional pictures, as previously promised.
This weekend was huge, and I always knew it would be. I just didn't know how small that town was. Apparently, Downieville is a gold-mining town, and not much of the architecture has changed since 1870. All 2 dozen of the city storefonts have that Western, saloon style font. Apparently, people still stake their claims and mine for gold. The elevation of the race start was about 3'000 feet in Sierra City, so there are Sierra trees hugging the rugged mountain sides amongst the cosy lodge-style homes. Throughout the race course, you could hear the snowcapped mountains' melting water runoffs creating waterfalls into the Yuba River below. It's really like no other place I have been before, but sections reminded me of different parks I ride in. This is the race website.
The climb aka "Trail of Tears" was a rideable grade like Chabot's Brandon trail going clockwise, but about 10 times longer and much looser at the top (7,100' elevation)). That exposed trail cleared the way for the sun to beat down at us, at degrees nearing 100 I am sure. After riding to a place where I felt we were getting level with the trees on the horizon of the adjacent mountains and I could see the folding trail along the mountain side for miles, below - I thought we were almost done. There was a water stop, and it turned out we were only 4 miles done with it, or halfway. At this point our beginner/juniors/clydesdale group had found similar batches of skill level and we would repeatedly pass each other or ride alongside, chatting about the Tour who each of us was invoking on this horrible climb. I saw someone on the side of the fire road lunging in pain. I offered him a packet of Emergen-C. He was ever grateful. I also realized I hadn't eaten enough for breakfast. I knew it was a long climb, and watched the 3 other women I had seen at the race start pass me, and so I paced myself to catch up later. When I realized they were really making a gap and I heard the end of pack motorcycle coming up a mile or so behind me, I picked up my pace.
I guess I ditched the two guys I had ping-ponged with before, but they caught up at the top of the babyheads section near Butcher Ranch (or is it Pauley Creek trail?) where I wanted to stretch my hands out before the descent. I had ridden this the day before and remembered how ridiculous it was. The closest thing to this trail I can make a connection with my local trails, is maybe Chapparel in Joachin Miller Park - only this one was longer and with more loose rocks. Come to think of it, I don't think I have attempted it at all this year, and I probably should after I am recovered. The constant jarring and tension shoulders from descending down a heap of rocks the size of your fist for almost a mile, had the biggest overall impact on me from the whole ride. Both days. This is where my faithful hard tail would often chose a line of its own and I would have to wrestle it for safety's sake. My rear wheel bounced everywhere. I had put beefy tires on it (Ritchey Z-Max), the week before and accidentally put one facing the wrong direction. I am not sure if that helped or hurt, but I didn't get a flat and I had a fair amount of traction on the climb. I hadn't checked my tire pressure with a gauge on either the pre-ride or the day of the race. I hand-checked it and was satisfied because it felt right for the terrain we would be on.
When I got to the bottom of the babyheads section and was about to cross the bridge, I unclipped and shook my hands out for a minute and grasped my handlebars gently whenever I could, for the next mile or so of descent. I alternated the squatting leg or just soft-pedalled as well, so I didn't cramp. This worked for me, and I saw about a half dozen people cramped up after the creek crossing at the bottom, near Pauley Creek. This reminded me of the lower section of Mount Diablo, with its numerous creek crossings. This creek crossing was about 20 feet wide, and over a foot deep with all those babyheads in its bed. I tried to ride through it, and halfway across, pulled a cyclocross run through the creek and up the bank flying back onto the bike. It was GREAT to pass all those people, even though they were suffering and didn't want help. One of the two guys from the climb resurfaced here, and he passed me when I stuttered on a slippery rock with no hurt feelings. For how many people were out on the trails at this time, the singletrack was relatively clear. Every now and then, I would see someone cramped up or fixing a flat, but mostly people were just negotiating the obstacles with their learned techniques. I am proud to say that I rode through things that I saw many others did not. And on the other hand, while riding some very simple sections, I dabbed because I was getting tired.
I did a lot of dabbing, especially on the singletrack that ran along the canyon wall. I think this is called the Third Divide, basically a tunnel of trees with outcroppings of slate rock (read: sharp), sometimes crossing scenic bridges over the Yuba River and sometimes descending steep pathways lined with cinderblocks. I understand the meaning of "pucker factor" now. I kept thinking that I was getting close to the end, when we would enter pavement, only to get back onto more singletrack again. This was really wearing on my nerves. I hadn't memorized how many pavement sections there were after the baby heads, the day before. I was mentally exhausted and my thumbs hurt. It was difficult to shift gears because I had put so much pressure on my hands throughout the race, and I just wanted to sit down and eat some food. I was doubly frustrated because there were non-racing bikers on the course towards the bottom that were difficult to pass. One of them, possibly a local, grabbed my wheel and stayed there not trying to pass. It was making me nervous and I tried to drop her, but couldn't. I figured she probably hadn't ridden the previous 20 miles, and thus justified asking her to kindly pass. I felt a lot better without her staring at my rear end, and resumed my focussed pace. Finally, when we entered the streets of Downieville and completed 17 miles, 5,700’ of descending, I realized how fast I was moving. I still had some power in my legs, but not much. I moved fast, and was disappointed when I saw the timeclock at the finish: 4:12. I was way off my target, even though I had no mechanicals nor long breaks. I need to move about 10% faster next year in order to not finish DFL (although I didn't look at results). For now, I feel like I did pretty well and accomplished many smaller goals - and I had a great weekend hanging out with awesome people. [edit: results are now up, and I finished DFL out of the people that finished in my category, and yet still there were sports that finished later than me in the same age group and tons in other categories! Maybe if I upgraded categories, I would actually push myself harder? On the brighter side of things - WOMEN mtbers are BAD ASS!!]
HRM stats:
HI: 0:03, LO:0:49, IN: 3:19
Ave BPM: 163
Max BPM: 228?! (interference, hopefully)
Recovery BPM: 149
kCal: 2261
I left my cyclometer at home the whole weekend, but here's the posted details:
28 miles
4,400’ ascent with 5,700’ descent
Link 1, and Link 2 to the professional pictures, as previously promised.
