2015 Dirt Bag: Crosswinds

IGNORE THE WIND! RIDE ON THE WASHBOARD!  Push a bigger gear!  IGNORE THE WIND!  IGNORE THE WIND!  POP!  They’re gone! 

Just the wind howling in my left ear. “It’s just you and me now cowboy!” I said to him.  Him is referring to Ben Doom and we had just blown the remnants of our group apart in what I thought (foreshadowing) were fierce crosswinds.  We were at roughly mile 41, not quite halfway and we had eliminated everyone.  

I was excited and also annoyed with myself.  “Way to go man...You did all that work to shell all your help...I hope you have a plan for what’s next, cause this dude is the REAL DEAL...you must have something brilliant up your sleeve...”  The logical part of my conscious tends to be ripe with sarcasm during races...it can be extremely annoying.   

My last gravel race of the season had started unlike any of the others this year.  I was standing at the back of my Toyota Matrix.  The car having never looked so small.  I had been standing there for twenty minutes and I couldn’t make up my mind.  What the hell am I going to wear??? 

The forecast had called for start-line temps to be in the low 30s and finish-line temps to be above 60, plus wind...a lot of wind.  In the 30s, one wears completely different clothing than you would in the 60s...completely different.  Also for the most part in the first 50 miles we were going to face either a stiff headwind or a strong crosswind. In the back of my car was nearly every piece of race clothing I owned, and I was desperately trying to make the right choice...and the weatherman had been right, my car said it was 31 degrees and the race would start in ten minutes. 

I finally settled on a long sleeve thin base layer, arm and knee warmers and a cap for under my helmet...probably the most bizarre thing I did was shove a Holiday Station plastic bag under my jersey against my chest to protect from the wind.*

Freezing at the Start photo by Dirt Bag

It would be cold, but if we rode hard enough early, we’d be fine.  As I sat on my top tube at the start line and listened to instructions, I questioned if I had enough on.  Every person in the front row was in the same boat.  We were all under-dressed and freezing.  Dave Markman was next to me and Ben Doom on the other side of him.  We were joking at first about how cold it was but about a minute into race director JJ Egbers instructions, we were all staring at the ground shaking uncontrollably and it was now hard to hear Egbers over the chattering of our teeth. 

Thankfully, warmth came quickly.  Typically, a race has a relaxed rollout and then the pace goes up.  Not this time.  No neutral rollout, so Doom blasted to the front like he had been fired from a cannon and within a minute our pace was well over 25 mph.  Cold was no longer a concern and quickly we were a group of about 10.  Early Selection. 

Early Flying photo by Dirt Bag

I felt pretty good but was really unsure of how I was actually going since I hadn’t had a really good day on the bike in almost a month due to illness post Inspiration 100 and then racing with illness (Woodchipper 100) and then recovering from racing with illness.  

Around mile 30 we had been whittled down to a group of about six riders.  Kyia Anderson, a super strong woman in our group, had just done a pull and swung off as we turned into a crosswind.  I went to the front and pushed a steady tempo as we climbed.  A mile later, I still felt really good so I kept grinding away as we turned into the headwind.  When I finally swung off, Jim Bell asked if I was feeling good.  I asked why and he said, “Holy Hannah that was a hard turn.”  I realized I was riding better than I thought and by the looks on their faces, everyone other than Doom was starting to hurt.

The gravel in this part of the state was mostly hard packed, fast, and vastly different from what I’m used to.  Near my house, the only hard-packed gravel you find is right next to someone’s house where the county has decided to oil the road to keep the dust down.  Everywhere else it’s loose and if you are lucky, you might be able to find a single or double tracked path that is hard packed. 

At mile 40 we turned west, now dealing with a crosswind again and entered the first gravel road that resembled familiarity in texture to me.  It was washboarded and there was in the best case, only two lines to take.  It was during that section that we entered this story.  Kyia seemed to be having trouble dealing with the wind and the road conditions as was Jim Bell.  Doom was on the front and riding away and so I swung to opposite side of the road in desperate search of a semi-good stretch of gravel.  Once I found it I didn’t want to let up and soon it was Doom and I alone. 

Ben and I didn’t really work together but we didn’t really oppose one another either.  We just rode side by side for the next 20 miles.  We had the wind at our backs and so we actually had some conversation.  We discussed our families and kids, our work, trying to train and balance everything else in our lives (he is the owner of Revolution Ski and Cycles in St. Cloud) and we talked about events like Trans Iowa and Gravel Worlds.  During that 20 mile stretch, the wind that was at our backs was increasing from 12-15 mph to 23-25 mph.**

The gears in my head were also spinning like crazy trying to think of a scenario in which I would be able to distance myself from Ben later in the race.  He is arguably the best racer I had faced in the past year.  He recently had finished 6th at Gravel Worlds and two weeks ago, he won Heck of the North. 

Ben Doom and me 2 years ago

I also need to stress how different Ben and I are as riders.  He is a powerful and explosive rider built like a gorilla whereas I’m slight, a grind it out rider who if we need to compare me to an animal, I look more like a grasshopper. This picture from two years ago shows how different we are and I am ten pounds thinner now than I was then. 

If this had been a race with a lot of climbing, like the Woodchipper 100, which featured over 7,000 feet of climbing, I wouldn’t have been so worried.  But this was the Dirt Bag and having looked at the profile, I knew we had little climbing from mile 64 onwards and a lot of crosswinds.  Both factors favored Doom.  Any attack I made on the flat, he was going to be able to pull back and so I decided my best move was to just hang with him as long as I could.  Eventually he’d either tire out or would get tired of me and our partnership would end. 

Our answer came quickly.  We took a right hand turn onto Dellwood Rd. at mile 68.  The road was pancake flat but the crosswind was unreal (now 23-25 mph) and I was doing everything I could to take shelter behind Doom’s big frame.  I was riding so close to his left side that I almost forced him to have his arm around me.  It didn’t matter.  I couldn’t find enough shelter and he knew I was in trouble.  He squeezed the trigger and a mile and a half later, I popped.  I tried to manage my losses but he knew I was in trouble.  He took one look back, stomped on the pedals and rode away.  A mile later, he had put a minute into me and in another mile further, and he was out of sight. 

At this point I sat up and decided to get myself back together.  About ten miles left, don’t lose your mind here, make sure you still finish 2nd.  I refueled, took off my arm warmers and Holiday Station wind-vest and got back to work. 

The final 5 miles were pretty uncomfortable.  I was worried about being caught and kept pushing as hard as I could, which was causing problems.  This section was on pavement but super exposed to the crosswinds and I was dying a thousand deaths in cramp city.

Finished with this season

I eventually crossed the finish line in 2nd place, just 3 minutes behind Doom***.

1. Ben Doom 4:13
2. John Peter 4:16
3. Ian Hoogendam 4:25

We had averaged nearly 20 mph for the entire race.  This had been an incredibly satisfying day in the saddle, racing with a guy whom I have respected and never seen as my equal since my first gravel event two years ago.  I enjoyed some really quality post-race food, courtesy of the amazing event staff**** and then headed home where my oldest daughter informed me I needed to find one more race this fall. 

“Why?” I asked her. 

“Well your last three races, you were 4th, then 3rd and now 2nd.  If you race again, you’ll get 1st!” she said. 

“Ha ha!  Thanks honey, I like your logic, but daddy’s all done for this year.” 


*This trick worked like a dream and kept me surprisingly warm.

**This according to National Weather Service data. 

***To only finish 3 minutes down was remarkable to me considering how much he opened things up in his initial attack. 

****Special thanks to race director JJ Egbers for putting on a great event that had a great community feel to it. 

2015 Woodchipper 100: The One with Body Failure

Last Sunday, I got home from church and gleefully turned on the UCI Road World Championships.  This was a riveting race, specifically the last 50 kilometers and Peter Sagan’s win was impressive but one thing stood out to me.  With about 35 km to go, defending champion Michał Kwiatkowski found himself in a breakaway of seven class riders.  This break would stay away until about 15 km to go.  I noticed that each time the road kicked up Kwiatkowski would finish his turn grabbing his oblique abdominal muscles.  “That’s weird,” I thought, “I’ve never had cramps there...”

Michał in white and red...cramping

In the literary world, this is a device known as foreshadowing... (Foreshadowing Part 1)

The Woodchipper 100 was a race I was truly excited about.  I wasn’t excited because of a huge field of riders, or great post-race swag or anything like that.  I was excited because my kids were finally going to get to see me race this year and this was very motivating for me.  The route passes within a few miles of my house and the start/finish line is a mere 15 minute drive away.  

However, as the race approached, I had concerns.  Tuesday and Wednesday found me home from school, sick with a massive cold/chest congestion/cough/etc. I rarely miss school due to illness so two days in a week meant this was a whopper.  I was sick, and breathing was a laborious effort...I know, now let’s do a 105 mile bike race!  If it weren’t the only chance of the year for my kids to see me race, I honestly probably would have stayed home, but they were excited and I decided it was worth giving it a go. 

Painting from kid 2 to my "match" jersey + remind me to try my best

Within the first 6 miles, we hit a double-track MMR that follows the north edge of a prairie containing massive bison herds and dozens of windmills.  I know this road/trail very well as I spent countless hours there this summer working on my MMR skills.  Because I knew the road well and knew it was dodgy, I went to the front and pushed pretty hard, mainly to be safe.  There was a problem though, my body was not in favor of this decision.  I was just doing a what should have been a steady medium hard effort, but I felt like I was maxed out, like I was massively in the red and cooking myself so I switched Garmin screens to check my heart-rate...this was going to be a long day.  My heart rate, which usually simmers around 185 when I’m going maxed-out, was sitting around 160 but my body WAS maxed out.

“Ok, so you’re basically running at 85% right now.” I said to myself, “it’s time to change your game plan. Any grandiose ideas of long attacks or breaking up the race with short stinging attacks are out the window.  I had better be ready to make sure there aren’t too many attacks to chase.” 

About 2 miles later, traveling down another incredibly bumpy MMR, I lost a bottle full of electrolyte drink out of one of my cages.  Now I was down to two bottles plus my camelbak.  

In the literary world, this is a device known as foreshadowing... (Foreshadowing Part 2)

Chad Weisgram photo via Facebook

From this point forward we were a group of five at the front of the race.  Two guys from the Vision Racing p/b Harvest Snaps, Chad Weisgram and Rick Laliberte, Sam Rauchwarter and myself in Paramount Sports colors and then Jamie Perry from Bismarck, ND.

Chad and Rick are Grade-A Bad Asses on the Masters Road scene with Rick having won at places such as the Lacrosse Omnium and the Tour of Galena this past year.  Chad has been a guy I can’t hold a candle to on the road when I’ve ridden with him.  Jamie, I would find out, was coming from a triathlon background and hadn’t raced much.  He was a super nice guy but mimicked a yo-yo for most of the time he remained in our group.  Although Chad and Rick are clearly better on the road, gravel is a different animal and in this group I was mostly concerned with Sam.  I had seen his Strava files for the last few months and despite the fact that he’s only 9 months removed from a full ACL repair, his workouts showed that he was super fit.  My only question with him was, did he have the stamina to go 6+ hours?

I choose to use my "cx" skills in Vergas Trails photo Sam R

So this was the group and at around mile 35, we safely maneuvered through the ATV trails deep within the bowels of the Vergas Trails.  I led most of the navigating and this was a real change from two years ago when I wandered aimlessly lost in these trails for over an hour.  Upon exiting the Vergas Trails, we waited for Chad to change a flat tire and then got back on the road.

Soon after refilling bottles at the Oasis, we pedaled into Maplewood State Park.  Other racers say, and I have come to find this true, that in every race of this length, you typically have one “what the hell am I doing” moment that usually is accompanied by a really bad patch in regards to how you feel.  Maplewood State Park was that time for me.  I felt like I was bonking or having a “hunger knock” but I had really been on top of my nutrition up to this point.  I was feeling shaky and just hoping that no one would attack as I could barely grasp my handle bars.  I took another gel and drank the rest of my Gatorade in hopes that I would quickly come around.  At this point, I could tell Jamie was in real trouble and the thought crossed my mind that if he pops here, I might be done with him.

Still a group of 5 photo by Timothy Bauer

However, another thought was in my head.  I tell my cross country runners that if you really hit a bad patch, try to change the pace and usually you’ll snap out of it.  There is actually science behind why this phenomenon happens but that’s not important.  Regardless, I felt terrible, but when Chad attacked on a descent, I went after him, came around him and yelled, “let’s go Chad.” 

We pressed on full gas for about a minute but Rick decided to bring us back.  Jamie was soon out the back for good and it was down to four of us.  The attack had worked in pulling me out of the shadows for now and I felt pretty good again.

What happened next is utterly confusing to me.  I mean I know what happened but I can’t see why it played out how it did.  Coming out of Maplewood State Park, we spent less than half a mile on County 24.  I was on the front and as we took a left back onto gravel, I took a bad line through the corner.  Like a really bad line.  It was a mistake I would have made 2 years ago having never ridden on a gravel road but not now.  My line was so bad, I ended up in the ditch off my bike. 

Here is what confused me.  By the top of the hill, it seemed like Rick and Chad were attacking, and this was confirmed by the time I crested the hill.  Now, in all honestly I probably would have done the same or maybe they hadn't seen me end up in the ditch, or maybe they just thought I had finally popped, but we had waited for one another all day in various circumstances and now it seemed we weren't.  All things are fair though in love and bike racing.* 

I set off in pursuit and by the time I got to the top of the hill, I could see the race was really on full gas.  Sam was trying to manage attacks from these two without me and I was desperately trying to pull everything back.  Remember though, that I basically had one speed, plus we were into a head wind for at least another 3 miles, so I had my work cut out for me. I rode as hard and as steady as I could and eventually 6.5 miles later, I pulled back Sam and Chad.  Rick was off the front about 30 seconds and I believe Sam was purposely pulling slowly on the front to allow me back on. 

Within about a mile, we caught Rick.  His Garmin had died and he didn’t have cue sheets so he was now constrained to the group.  At this point, I realized I didn't want to chase any more attacks and so I basically had one option, make things too difficult for the others to attack until the final few miles where I knew there were opportunities to attack.  By that time, I hoped everyone would be tired and I wouldn’t.  The easiest way to make sure no one attacked was to go to the front and just ride hard, because even though my high end was missing today, my diesel engine was still running just fine.  I was counting on endless endurance I had built up all summer on the gravel and hoped that the distance would start to eat the other three and from mile 75 onward, I tried to do as much hard pulling on the front as possible.

This strategy was complicated by the fact that at about mile 79, we hit a climb that punches up over 13% and mid-climb, the cramps started.  My quads, adductors and abductors in my legs started to seize up, but I was able to continue on the front; I just slowed the pace.  This was when I recognized everyone was feeling not awesome.  No one was coming around as I slowed the pace on these climbs.
This cycle of pulling hard on the front and cramping on the climbs continued off and on, but I kept driving the front as much as possible.  Rick flatted at mile 91 and we waited for him and I drank my remaining water, but my body accepted it kind of like dry ground receiving a 5 minute rain storm during a drought.

I knew that soon, there was a left turn coming up with a really good climb for attacking and I was just waiting for it, hoping that I could will my body into cooperating.  The problem was that the mile preceding this climb was a gravel road with washboard effect from one ditch to the other.  The four of us swerved from side to side searching for respite only to find more jarring bumps.  Rick went out the back along this stretch of road and Chad opened up a very small gap. 

We took the left hander onto 147th Ave, a very lumpy MMR that I train on weekly.  I attacked through the corner to try and bridge up to Chad and two pedal strokes in, I experienced the same cramping that Michał Kwiatkowski experienced the week before.  My legs were in full blown rebellion, quads, calves, feet, hamstrings, everything cramping.  My stomach muscles felt like they were trying to rip in two and I simultaneous wanted to throw up...My triceps and forearms were cramping in my arms and even the muscles between my shoulder blades seized up.  It felt like my body was trying to bend itself forwards and backwards at the same time.

Sam got up to Chad and away they went.  At two different points in the final miles, I pulled them back close enough to read the writing on their jerseys but each time, we would hit an uphill and the full body spasms would return.  I cheered out-loud as I saw Sam attack and pull away late, as this meant someone in Paramount colors would at least get the win and I limped up the final climb across the finish line, just under two minutes behind Sam. 

Exhausted and Loved photo Anna Peter

My entire family was there and two of my girls tackled me, which took little effort.  Through some emotion, I told them I had done everything I could, but Sam and Chad were just better today.  My second daughter Phoebe assured me 3rd place was ok and that she was just happy to see me...perspective is always a good thing.

The post-race time was great.  I got to have some quality conversations with race director Timothy Bauer and my friend Chris Jones who had come down to watch the finale, as well as Chad, Rick, Sam and Jamie. 

My main thought as I drove home and as I’ve thought about the race the last few days is, “how did I get my body to do that?”  The thing it proved to me is this.

Me and Sam photo Sam R

The mind and maybe more importantly the human spirit is an incredibly powerful thing and it can push you through when everything else, including your body may say it’s time to be done.  There are so many times in life where logic says you shouldn’t be able to do something.  The idea of my kids being at the finish line kept me going when I wanted to quit in Maplewood and when my body was failing in the last 10 miles.  That idea allowed me to fight through getting dropped and through horrendously painful cramps, to get to where I could see my kids again and feel satisfied in a job well done.

In two weeks, I close out this season at the Dirt Bag in Clearwater, MN.  I expect a dog fight with Charlie Schad and others from the St. Cloud area.   



*No hard feelings towards Chad or Rick for how things went down outside of Maplewood.  That’s bike racing and it was fun sharing the road with them all day, and I would gladly do it again.