The 2007 Mt. Hood Classic was definitely a test of will power. After all the talk about fowl weather and rain that plagues the race, it ended up being a scorcher. Riders were dropping like flies in this battle of attrition. For most of the participants, it ended up being a time trial every day that featured climb after merciless climb. Even the actual time trial was a test of climbing. This was my first experience doing the race, and I’m not sure I liked it. Fortunately, I’m now feeling like my much-too-long bout with sickness if finally getting behind me. I continued to feel better throughout the weekend and I’m looking forward to better days of riding.
Thursday’s Cat 3 race was a V shaped profile that we did 3.5 times. Kind of boring. It was a 10 mile climb that closely replicated our climb to Andes Prairie out of Elgin, and we did it 4 times. The group attacked the climb very hard each time up. I assume they did, but I only witnessed the pace of the group about 1.75 times. Then, I was off the back experiencing some chills and goose bumps even though it was very hot. My legs and lungs were really flat for the first part of the race and I wasn’t feeling good. I started feeling better on subsequent climbs and passed about 10-15 riders in the process. About 16 dropped out of the race this day, even though this was only stage 1 of 4.
Friday was a 19 mile time trial that went up the twisting 2 mile climb on the old highway out of The Dalles. Then we had rollers and crazy detours that included dark tunnels and recreation paths that left us at the finish line stranded at some state park near the freeway. I put in a fairly good time trial, and was definitely feeling better. El Train and his support crew, J-Train and Timbertson, arrived that day for the start of the Cat 4 race. El had a very impressive result, which I was surprised about after seeing the pain/terror on his face about 4 miles into the race, just before the climb.
Saturday included the most fearful race of the event, with a scheduled trip to hell and back to heaven. I definitely was feeling stronger this day and even got involved in the race for a few minutes. J and Timbertson were money at the 2nd feed station. Somehow Timbertson survived a barrage of empty bottles, to hand up a water to me and J handed a banana and water. These were lifesavers because it was about 100 degrees and I had already grown to distrust neutral services. One thing I learned about the Mt. Hood Classic (and Cascade too) is that you should do these races with your own race support. Fortunately, I had some friendlies there, because everyone else was holding their life support behind their backs when I was pleading to get a bottle.
I was hanging with the faster guys on the initial climbs of the day but then we hit the first steeper section of the monster 40 mile finishing climb. I’m not sure if it was the hot pace or the added resistance of a softening tire, but I started getting dropped right away. Probably the former but I’ll claim the latter. I started noticing my front tire was really soft about the time the wheel car was passing me. For some reason I didn’t convince myself it was actually going flat; plus, I suddenly had an ethical dilemma because I was supposed to put in support wheels but I hadn’t brought them because I rode my bike to the start. I had to make a quick decision, and I made the wrong choice. Here was my flawed logic (probably heat affected): it is going down slowly, air pressure will keep increasing as I climb, and the weight savings from my climbing wheels is worth the diminished resistance. Before long the wheel car was out of sight and I was riding on about 40, 30, 20 lbs pressure. Fortunately, it was uphill but then a steep downhill section came and I was riding my brakes very hard to avoid rolling the tire and going down. About 10-15 guys passed me going very fast. I even remember stopping and dismounting once to walk across a cattle guard. Then my angels, J and Timbertson, drove by and I flagged them down for some “neutral” support. I wasn’t able to get a wheel because El Train had already donated a wheel for the other Cat 4 racers, since his support car was already in front of him too. Fortunately, they did have a pump. The second wind got me racing hard for about 10 minutes and then the tire was softening again. This gave me about 10 kilometers of climbing on a very soft tire which didn’t allow me to stand or do much beside sit back and pedal up the steepest sections of the climb. By the end, I rode for a total of about 25 miles on a flat tire. I also had the added problem of blowing blood clots out of my nose somewhere on the climb. I’m not sure what caused that, but maybe it was the final vestiges of my sickness exiting my body. I felt fine so I just kept drinking water and pedaling.
On the day, I ended up losing only about 11 minutes to the Cat 4 winner. He passed me at about 5 kilometers to the finish and didn’t pull too far away before the finish. Standing at the finish line for about 20 minutes after I finished, I couldn’t believe the carnage of the day. Riders from all categories (except pro) were mixed up and crossing the line in 1-2 minute increments, similar to the finish of a charity ride.
I won’t talk about the final day’s criterium because it is a worthless stage of a race like this, or any other stage race for that matter.
So my tire incident was my first ever mechanical issue in a race. I was very proud of that streak that came to an end. Too bad it happened at the worst time of one of the most difficult races of my career. At least I still have my crashless streak alive. Overall I had a rough weekend of racing. El Train did great though. His top 20 result against a top-quality field like that is very impressive.
The temperature was very hot for every race, even though we were racing at high altitude. It is very difficult to prepare for a race like this when you’ve been training in cool weather, like most of the other participants. I became a human water sieve all weekend. As much water as I drank, I should have just hooked in an IV and stuck it in my back pocket so I could just bypass my mouth. Right before the long race on Saturday, I saw this kid riding around with a hydration pack on. My first reaction was that it was some scrub that didn’t understand the ethos of road racing. Later, I recognized it was the race leader Boswell (who was very impressive as always). Apparently, he’s the genius because he was well hydrated as the rest of us arrived at the first feed station only to find it abandoned with no water. While everyone else was fuming and cursing, I saw Boswell casually riding beside me looking completely cool and calm. I saw a lot of crazy things that day of racing. Here is a list of a few that I witnessed or others told me about:
- Racers riding on the wrong side of the road, just because that is where the shade was. One masters racer was just sitting in the shade taking a break.
- A gun prematurely firing to start the women’s race causing women to chase from their cars, one riding with a morning latte still in hand.
- Me passing Ritchey, who was on a pleasure ride. Or in his words, “more pain than pleasure.” His stem on my bike was holding up much better than my front tire. Props on the stem, Ritchey.
- A racer filling his waters bottles from a stream at the bottom of a long talus embankment. I don’t know how he scrambled down there with cleats on.
- A female racer with shoes off, standing in a stream.
- An impromptu feed station that consisted of stacked cases of bottled water. This stopped the race and the racers themselves were gathering and throwing bottled water to their fellow racers. It was a frenzy.
- A number of racers laying down supine on pavement after the race. There was a kid laying behind me and when I looked back a few minutes later, there were two of him.
