The day before BWR Cedar City, I looked out of the window and it was snowing sideways. The weather forecast kept changing from rain to snow to no precipitation to simply frigid temperatures. Truth be told, for me, the harder the better.
On race day, we woke up to a wind chill of 18 degrees but no precipitation in the forecast (bummer ). We all stood on the start line with varying levels of clothing layers and I quietly wondered how many people were questioning their choices as they saw what others were wearing to start the 104 mile day.
The race did not start fast, but it felt hectic nonetheless. A few hundred racers all descending on gravel and jockeying for position left little room for error. The wind speeds were high and with such aggressive head and cross winds, tucking in for shelter in the group would be the difference between blowing all of your matches early and getting dropped or staying with the group until the finish.
While, under less windy circumstances, you might be able to surf the group with room for error, in these conditions, you really needed to be 6 inches or less off of a wheel at all times. Most of the time the group rolled consistently and we weren’t pushing that “hard.” I felt my mind racing though, knowing that when the moment came there would be a very short window of opportunity.
The first instance came around mile 14. The group turned into a short, but dark tunnel and as people hit the brakes to filter into the narrow space, there was an accordion effect. Half of the field had their wheels locked up and as we entered the tunnel, the first people in the group exiting the tunnel were accelerating. When I left the tunnel, I was only 10 feet off of that “front group” but as I stood to sprint in the headwind it might as well of been a mile. A small group of 10 of us formed and for the next 6 or so miles we rotated in a frenzy to re-connect to the bigger pack up the road. We did it, but not without burning some matches.
Once reaching the pack, determined to never let 10 feet open up again, I went toward the front. I sat on the lead men’s wheels and stared at my Stage’s Dash waiting to see what the next turn would be. As the pace ratcheted up around mile 35, I saw a turn come into view. I put in an effort, and made the turn in the top 15 overall. I felt a very brief moment of grand success having executed a beautiful tactic to keep myself in the pack. Then everyone’s wheels locked up again.
Shortly after the turn it became single file as we crossed over a 2 foot wide elevated cattle guard. People were waiting in line as the people on the other side of it accelerated away. Looking to the left I saw that other people had found another line around the fence, I turned by bike and changed course, but just a few moments too late. That dreaded gap had opened at now, with this opportunity to split the group, everyone was attacking. I missed the moment and I was once again on the back foot.
After all of this chaos I had no idea what position I was in, but when we finally entered the only singletrack sector of the day I felt a major sigh of relief. Now I’m at home. I had a blast testing my tires’ limits as I went foot out flat out on the sandy and rocky singletrack. I passed a lot of people and gained confidence on the way.
As I exited the singletrack I looked around and found myself with just one other man. We turned onto a gravel road that was as far as the eye could see. Way up the road I could see a group of 15 people, but the two of us would have to work together to get there. After about 45 minutes of suffering, we hit a feed zone and Clayton told me, “2nd place is in that group, just 90 seconds up!” I exclaimed, “Wait! Really?” Up until that point I had no idea what place I was in. It took nearly an hour of pace lining and echeloning in the head and cross winds, but we finally made contact with that other group just as we hit the only hill on the day.
I summited the climb about 15 second behind 2nd place, and you think I would have learned my lesson that that wasn’t good enough in these winds. I saw their group roll away again as I soloed after them looking around for who might help me on my quest. So close, but so far. I wouldn’t close that gap again. I finished in 4th.
As I crossed the finish line I had to take a moment to reflect. The day felt like a blur. 5 and a half very long hours on the bike that felt like all came down to about 3 extremely critical 30 second moments. I learned a lot out there and each time I made a mistake I would think, “Today is a day to work on weaknesses.” And that couldn’t be more true. Upon reflection this course really hit on a lot of my perceived weaknesses and as I thought more and more about that I couldn’t help but actually feel better and better about my result. As a professional it’s my job to perform no matter the circumstances and at this race I did just that. I put on my big girl chamois and I overcame again and again to secure a spot on the podium. I’ll take it
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