Two summers ago we were riding on the Monon Trail in Indianapolis when I got stung be a bee on my forehead between my sunglasses and helmet. In the past I've had mild allergic reactions to stings - but nothing life threatening so while it hurt badly, we didn't go to the emergency room and drove from Indianapolis to Chicago for Intelligensia Cup.
Four hours later after napping in the back of our van, I woke up to a very swollen face. We arrived at the race venue and Ben started warming up. I decided to walk down toward registration and even with sunglasses and a hat on, my friends didn't recognize me. I was a little scared that my throat could close up so while Ben raced his race, I opted to skip mine and see if an ice compress and the benadryl I'd taken would make any difference.
The next morning I woke up even more puffy so we headed to a walk in clinic. I explained the situation to the medical staff and got a ration of shit for not coming in sooner. They administered an epi pen shot and prescribed a steroid to help with the inflammation. I checked the banned drug list and sure enough - not even a TUE (therapeutic use exemption) would make it okay to race.
I had a choice to make. And it was an easy one. I'm a coach and athlete and I believe in competing clean at all times. As a leader in my community, it's super important to lead by example. Even though medically I had a pretty good excuse, there's no way it would stand up in an arbitration and I made the easy choice of not racing. Yes we had traveled all that way - but that wouldn't make it right. Taking a prohibited drug and competing is never okay.
My experience came flooding back to me after a local female racer was handed a four year suspension this past week. You can read more about it here. She claimed she was taking testosterone for a medical reason and tried to file a TUE. But the drug she was on is on the prohibited list and she was caught with it in her system while competing. It's up to you as an athlete competing to know what's on the prohibited list and what's not.
To see if the medications or supplements you're taking are prohibited, visit www.usada.org. The Global DRO is a great resource to see if the specific medications you're on are on the World Anti-Doping Agency Prohibited List. A quick check is all it takes.
We all have choices to make. It is your duty as an athlete and coach to know the rules of play and to play by the rules.
Showing posts with label racing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label racing. Show all posts
Monday, January 29, 2018
Tuesday, November 22, 2016
Tour of Tucson Race Report
A sea of people anxiously await the start of the 34th annual Tour of Tucson. Benjamin and I sat perched on our tandem in the second row - a position secured from winning the mixed tandem category the year before. We're still figuring things out - like if you have VIP access in the platinum corral, you don't need to get there until about 6:45 (we arrived shivering at 6am); that only Benjamin needs to wear a camelbak and I can take four bottles and that I like my scratch on the lighter side - not the syrupy consistency it turned into after four hours on the bike; and that there's always, always, always a break that forms in the first few miles of the race.
A firetruck ladder hoists this year's dedication recipient over the crowd - Denise Mueller, the fastest woman cyclist. And the countdown begins: 10, 9, 8,....3, 2, 1!!!! We are immediately surrounded by dozens of eager cyclists - some racers, but mostly recreational riders all of whom are determined to get to the first river crossing at the front of the pack in nine miles. It's super sketchy.
I'm so grateful Benjamin pilots. His years and years and years of experience in the field, navigating and negotiating the moving amoeba of the peloton, eases my mind as we zip along at speeds over 30mph. I know popping my head out to look around him will throw our balance off and I want him to be focused 100% on the road ahead so I stay tucked in, responding only to his request for more power. The only time I really get a good look is when there's a bend in the road ahead. Otherwise I've got my head down looking at my Garmin or glancing to the side as we barrel down the road.
The thing about riding a tandem in a sea of people is that they often don't expect the caboose. They're used to the length of one bike - not two. And in the beginning I was sure someone was going to crash into us. I had one guy yell, at me, "watch where you're going!" I risked throwing Ben off by responding, "I would if I could." It wasn't until an hour or so into the ride that I felt like those around us understood just how big we were and that instead of chopping our wheel or freaking out, the best spot to be in a windy, 106 mile race is in the sweet pocket of the tandem draft.
Being on the back of the tandem is nothing short of terrifying. I close my eyes whenever I sense danger and put 100% faith in Ben's ability to navigate us through any pickles. Last night we talked about the deep sense of trust required on the tandem. It actually goes beyond trust. It's the realization that I'm okay if I die today. I'd have no regrets. We don't know when our time will be up but that's not going to stop me from doing what I love. But for Ben - it's something different. There's no way he would ever ride on the back of the tandem. For him, it's a control thing. He doesn't like when other people drive him or are responsible for his safety or movement through space and time. He has to be in control. But I wonder - are we ever really in control?
After an hour or so of riding, we find ourselves racing to a train crossing with the hopes of catching the break who has been waylaid. The break is within reach - but our mixed tandem competition, Paul and Noreen, are in our group of riders and bridging across to the break could be suicidal. So we sit and wait and find the group facing a massive 20mph block headwind, which seems to shift against us with every turn we take.
We had one mistake going into the second crossing. I watched as Paul and Noreen drilled it to the front of the group, positioning themselves into second wheel. We didn't know we had reached the crossing area so quickly but the sandy and narrow turns leading into it were a sure sign. We lost position- drifting back to about 50th or so and then the tires sunk deep into the sand, tipping us off the bike and leaving us running. The pack was gone - and I struggled to clip in. A rock was lodged in my cleat and took some focus on it to get it out.
"Keep calm, there's no need to panic," Ben said. The rock came loose and I clipped in and we started the chase with about eight riders clinging to our wheel. Tempo on the descents, LT/VO2 on the climbs. Slowly, surely, we rejoined the group after 40 minutes of chasing. We never went into the red, never over-extended ourselves. Again, I'm so thankful for Ben's experience and knowing what it takes to be a contender.
The rest of the race was a slog. The attacks stopped and the wind increased in the last 40 miles. I remember thinking, people are getting tired... and then a crash took out five riders. We were still recovering on the back of the group and avoided the carnage. Paul and Noreen saw the opportunity to break away - shattering the field in the wind as echelons formed. We responded by coming around the group and powering to the break, only to have the entire group come back together. So we sat and waited.
And sat and waited.
And waited, and then sat some more.
The problem with going easy is that you start to notice how everything aches. Your hands, your feet, your butt, everything. But if you want to win a race, you have to be patient. You have to sit and wait.
We rounded the last few corners of the course, pulling into the finishing straight, right on Paul and Noreen's wheel. We still had 500m to go - and Ben initiated our sprint. We dumped 1800 watts, putting a gap between us and the single bikes behind, as well as Paul and Noreen. We sailed through the series of timing strips, and this time I didn't put my hands up in celebration. This time we graciously accepted the win and thanked Paul and Noreen for the fun.
A firetruck ladder hoists this year's dedication recipient over the crowd - Denise Mueller, the fastest woman cyclist. And the countdown begins: 10, 9, 8,....3, 2, 1!!!! We are immediately surrounded by dozens of eager cyclists - some racers, but mostly recreational riders all of whom are determined to get to the first river crossing at the front of the pack in nine miles. It's super sketchy.
I'm so grateful Benjamin pilots. His years and years and years of experience in the field, navigating and negotiating the moving amoeba of the peloton, eases my mind as we zip along at speeds over 30mph. I know popping my head out to look around him will throw our balance off and I want him to be focused 100% on the road ahead so I stay tucked in, responding only to his request for more power. The only time I really get a good look is when there's a bend in the road ahead. Otherwise I've got my head down looking at my Garmin or glancing to the side as we barrel down the road.
The thing about riding a tandem in a sea of people is that they often don't expect the caboose. They're used to the length of one bike - not two. And in the beginning I was sure someone was going to crash into us. I had one guy yell, at me, "watch where you're going!" I risked throwing Ben off by responding, "I would if I could." It wasn't until an hour or so into the ride that I felt like those around us understood just how big we were and that instead of chopping our wheel or freaking out, the best spot to be in a windy, 106 mile race is in the sweet pocket of the tandem draft.
Being on the back of the tandem is nothing short of terrifying. I close my eyes whenever I sense danger and put 100% faith in Ben's ability to navigate us through any pickles. Last night we talked about the deep sense of trust required on the tandem. It actually goes beyond trust. It's the realization that I'm okay if I die today. I'd have no regrets. We don't know when our time will be up but that's not going to stop me from doing what I love. But for Ben - it's something different. There's no way he would ever ride on the back of the tandem. For him, it's a control thing. He doesn't like when other people drive him or are responsible for his safety or movement through space and time. He has to be in control. But I wonder - are we ever really in control?
After an hour or so of riding, we find ourselves racing to a train crossing with the hopes of catching the break who has been waylaid. The break is within reach - but our mixed tandem competition, Paul and Noreen, are in our group of riders and bridging across to the break could be suicidal. So we sit and wait and find the group facing a massive 20mph block headwind, which seems to shift against us with every turn we take.
We had one mistake going into the second crossing. I watched as Paul and Noreen drilled it to the front of the group, positioning themselves into second wheel. We didn't know we had reached the crossing area so quickly but the sandy and narrow turns leading into it were a sure sign. We lost position- drifting back to about 50th or so and then the tires sunk deep into the sand, tipping us off the bike and leaving us running. The pack was gone - and I struggled to clip in. A rock was lodged in my cleat and took some focus on it to get it out.
"Keep calm, there's no need to panic," Ben said. The rock came loose and I clipped in and we started the chase with about eight riders clinging to our wheel. Tempo on the descents, LT/VO2 on the climbs. Slowly, surely, we rejoined the group after 40 minutes of chasing. We never went into the red, never over-extended ourselves. Again, I'm so thankful for Ben's experience and knowing what it takes to be a contender.
The rest of the race was a slog. The attacks stopped and the wind increased in the last 40 miles. I remember thinking, people are getting tired... and then a crash took out five riders. We were still recovering on the back of the group and avoided the carnage. Paul and Noreen saw the opportunity to break away - shattering the field in the wind as echelons formed. We responded by coming around the group and powering to the break, only to have the entire group come back together. So we sat and waited.
And sat and waited.
And waited, and then sat some more.
The problem with going easy is that you start to notice how everything aches. Your hands, your feet, your butt, everything. But if you want to win a race, you have to be patient. You have to sit and wait.
We rounded the last few corners of the course, pulling into the finishing straight, right on Paul and Noreen's wheel. We still had 500m to go - and Ben initiated our sprint. We dumped 1800 watts, putting a gap between us and the single bikes behind, as well as Paul and Noreen. We sailed through the series of timing strips, and this time I didn't put my hands up in celebration. This time we graciously accepted the win and thanked Paul and Noreen for the fun.
Wednesday, October 19, 2016
Tandem Training - Tour de Tucson
We're prepping for the Tour de Tucson - a 110 mile jaunt through the mostly flat portions of Tucson in November. Last year we stepped onto the scene as newcomers and won the mixed tandem division - camelback clad and all - beating Travis McCabe and Norene. Norene has held the tandem title for the past 10(?) years and usually partners up with her husband Paul, but injury prevented him from racing. Thanks to social media - we know Norene and Paul have been training... gulp.
Due to our inexperience at "The Tour" (as the locals call it and not to be confused with the Tour de France), we stared way back in the first corral and fought our way to the front in the first 6 miles having to dismount in the first sandy wash section and then fight our way back onto the chasing group.
It was SO much FUN!!!!
It was our somewhat maiden voyage on the tandem last year and since then we've logged 50+ hours in the saddle together, dialing in our standing, sprinting and tucking techniques. We'll be duking it out again in about a month from now. Oh and because of our placement last year, we get to start at the front of the corral.
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