Charleston Races 2009

My team has quite a history with the Charleston races. We have a lot of wins here. We are also the reigning winners 4 years over of the famed Alpaca prime. So, we look forward to this race every year. For me, it’s my favorite race on the calendar cuz it’s a weekend away in Charleston…well, technically we stayed on Isle of Palms, but you get the picture.

Last year, we had a host house for the Ion Village race. The house was 1 block off the race course and the Hanson’s provided lots of food and drink throughout the day for us. They hosted us again this year and they did not disappoint; they even had beer on ice for after the races. I sense a long lasting relationship developing.

One big downer this year: no Alpaca Prime. The Alpaca industry must have been hit hard by the current economic conditions.

This year’s Women’s Open race brought the toughest field I’ve ever seen at this race. With Pro’s like Rebecca Larson (Jittery Joes), Erica Allar (Colavita) and Laura Bowles (Vanderkitten) on the start line, the race was sure to get lit up quick.

And it did. In fact, I got caught not paying attention and found myself behind a group that couldn’t keep up through the turns. As soon as I saw the gap, I fought to bridge up to the main group but couldn’t quite get there into the wind on my own…I got close…so close I could smell it, but simply couldn’t quite get there. I sat up and waited for the chase group behind me. Unfortunately, of the 8 riders in the group, only about three of us were willing to work on the chase, so it was fruitless. I suppose some of them were thinking that since they had teammates up the road, there was no reason to chase. I didn’t see it that way – half the field was up the road and we had been dropped. To me, this wasn’t a breakaway situation. Plus, I wanted to ride with the Pros just to say I could do it. But, we never bridged the gap. With 2 laps to go I attacked into the wind coming into the cobbled corner. I ended up with a significant gap and stayed there for about ¾ of a lap, but got chased down. Because of that effort, I knew I wouldn’t have a remote chance at a sprint out of this group at the finish.

I finished way down in the standings, but didn’t mind so much cuz I did a lot of work in the chase group and I felt good about my attack – hey, ya gotta test the legs at some point, right?

Sunday was the SC State Crit Championship and other than getting yelled at by the Official at the start line, my team and I had a great race. I alone attacked 4 times and my teammates each had multiple attacks as well, so we were having fun lighting up the race a little. My first attack came on a prime lap. The field was sitting up so I went for it. As I started the attack, I heard the nasty sound of gears slipping and carbon fiber hitting the ground behind me. In the confusion, I got a little gap on the field and coming into the finish for the prime, I looked back to see Erica Allar on the front of the group chasing. As I stood up to sprint for the prime I heard her say, “You got it, you got it” meaning she had no intention of contesting the prime with me. A Beamer had a different plan, though. She came out of the pack and nipped me at the line for the prize. Oh, well…some other time, then.

As we came around to where the wreck happened, the rider who crashed, Jennifer Petosa, was still on the ground knocked out cold. We slowed down to get around her and then the officials neutralized the race. We were neutralized for 3 laps and even came to a complete stop behind the ambulance while they loaded Jennifer and took her to the hospital.

Upon restart, the nervousness within the group was hard to ignore, but after a few laps we worked through it and the attacks started again. With 4 to go, I attacked off again and I have proof:

This time I brought a Beamer with me. We had a decent gap for half a lap before getting chased down. With one lap to go and knowing there was no way I was gonna place in a mass sprint, I attacked for my fourth and final time. I knew I wouldn’t get far and I didn’t. I was chased down, again, by Erica Allar, who then went on to win the sprint. My teammate, Christina took second, so it was a good day for us. I’ve never attacked so much in a race before. It felt really good to be able to do so and made the race a lot more fun for me.

I have since received word that Jennifer is ok – no broken bones or head/neck injuries, just a lot of bruising and a lot of road rash. OUCH! Here’s what we suspect caused the crash: as I started my attack, Jennifer tried to follow me. As she was putting the torque into her pedals to sprint, her chain broke, forcing all her momentum toward the ground. As one rider put it, “I’ve never seen someone hit the ground so quickly. She was upright and then she wasn’t.” OUCH! I wish Jennifer a speedy recovery.

A Letter to USA Cycling

I am 100% sure I will suffer some kind of repercussion from this official at the next race for this letter I submitted to USA Cycling this morning.


Dear USA Cycling,

I am a grown woman who works hard for every dollar I earn and I expect to be treated respectfully by USA Cycling Officials when I spend that money on entry fees to USA Cycling sanctioned events. It seems silly that I should have to point that out. My fellow racers and I are tired of showing up to races in South Carolina only to be belittled by one official in particular. Normally, I overlook his belittling but on Sunday he crossed the line by singling me out in front of my peers at the start line for his mistake.

The race flyer all of us riders were given had the Women’s Open start time at 2:35. At 2:25, the announcer said there was 10 minutes until the start of the Women’s race. As we stood at the line, we were given the normal “I’m in charge” speech from @@@@@ and as he tried to start the race I asked that he wait for more riders that were coming to the line. He then yelled at me, asking, “Well, what time does your watch say?” I answered, “2:30.” To which he responded, “And what time does the race start?” As I began to say, “2:35” he went off on a rant berating me for speaking out and about getting to the start line on time. At the end of his rant he looked over and asked, “Is it 2:30, yet? Can I start the race?” He then proceeded to start the race…2 minutes early, which is against USA Cycling rules. I’m not sure why the other officials didn’t point that out to him while he was ranting.

No one participating in these races deserves to be treated like this. My teammates and I spent thousands of dollars to be in Charleston for the weekend. Why should we continue to spend that kind of money only to be treated like children by a USA Cycling Official at the events?

Signed,
Jodi Winterton

24 Hours of Booty - Riding For Cancer Research

Grandma died of Cancer 21 years ago. I was 13. It’s strange you know…the things you remember. I try to remember her as my Jelly Stone Park camping buddy; as my Disney World Escort; as the popcorn sharer while we watched Fivel search for his family.

But there are other memories that come to mind – the grapefruit I cut up so perfectly that she couldn’t eat; driving on the brick road that made her grimace as her stitches pulled at her skin; the red nightgown and the wig; the dreaded phone call.

21 years after the fact and these memories are still able to break me. And I don’t even fight it.

First year: 12 hours, 179 miles. It was eerie in the middle of the night; after the traffic was gone and after a lot of riders had gone to bed. The bugs were loud, but the night was otherwise silent. The street lights were on, but the red lights on the backs of bikes stole the scene. A lot of us rode with memorials of loved ones pinned to our jerseys and in the calmness of the night it was like you could hear those loved ones cheering you on from a far away place that was as close as your handlebar. And every now and then, someone would ride up next to me and ask about the picture of Grandma on my back. We’d share stories back and forth for a lap and then they’d be off. I would not recognize them again in the light of day.

This is 24 Hours of Booty. Second Year: 17 hours, 260 miles. Third year: Marred by intense thunderstorms. Last year: who’s counting?

This year? I don’t know. 300? Think I can do it?

Every donation helps. Every little bit. Donate Here.

PSSST, Hey, FB Friends…We Need To Talk

Pretend I’m saying this as loud as I can: Quit putting UCI race results in your Status Updates!

Look, I am addicted to Facebook, too. I love keeping up with my friends and seeing what they are up to every single minute of every single day. Without Facebook I would not know that my friends hate Monday’s, but love Friday’s; hate the work week, but love the weekend; are tired of their kids; but adore their kids; are sick, are well, are eating lunch, are eating dinner, are brushing their teeth, are stuck in traffic, are at the dentist, the bank, or OBGYN. Seriously, how did I ever survive not knowing that if Jen was a cereal, she’d be Frosted Flakes?

But, back to the issue at hand . There is a wonderful piece of technology called a “DVR.” Some people even have one called a “Tivo.” The purpose of the device is to record a television show in case you can’t catch it in real time. You can even pause the show to use the restroom or fast forward through the commercials. I dare say, I love my Tivo even more than I love Facebook.

I can’t avoid your status update. I want to know what you’re up to – I don’t want to know the outcome of a race that I haven’t had a chance to watch yet. Each race only comes once a year and when it’s spoiled, it’s spoiled. I waited 12 months for Paris-Roubaix, my favorite race of the season, only to open Facebook on Monday morning after the race and have the result staring me in the eyes as someone’s status update. Ruined.

I should mention that this applies to posting links and Facebook pages and notes, as well.

Let’s try to get this little issue worked out before the Tour de France, okay? Cuz, I can’t watch everything in real time – I have a job. I know I’m not the only one who finds this frustrating. Stop this practice immediately.

I will begin un-friending the culprits effective today. How do you like that? How will you survive not knowing which Grateful Dead song I would be if I were, in fact, a Grateful Dead song? You've been warned.

Giordana - Clif Bar Women’s Team Camp, Brevard, NC

Day 1 – The Arrival

I was the first one at camp. First and foremost, it was nice to see that Cupid and his friends were still at camp. Cupid is a goat who was only a few weeks old last year during camp. He was born on Valentines Day, hence the name we gave him. My spirits were high as I drove up to the large building that was to be our headquarters for the weekend.

In years past, we’ve stayed in a cabin at the Brevard Girl Scouts Camp. We stayed at the Camp again, but initially, we had a lot more people coming than actually showed up, so we had arranged for “larger” accommodations. As it was described to us, it was to be slightly more rustic than our usual cabin, but with 3 bathrooms and more beds.

I walked in the door to find what I can only describe as an elementary school art room. Long tables with plastic chairs all covered in layers of decade’s old paint; shelves of craft materials – paints, fabric, sparkles, wax; a concrete floor and cartoon murals all over the walls. In the middle of the room was a steel spiral staircase leading up to a loft full of bunk beds with mattresses covered in mold and fungus. There was a bathroom up there with no water coming out of the hot water pipes and a toilet that made you consider “takin’ it outside”(that was bathroom #1…standby for the others). There was a bedroom with a few more beds off the loft. I found myself the cleanest mattress I could find and staked my claim in a bunk in the bedroom. Then, I was off to check out the rest of the diggs.

There was a small kitchen off the art room with a fridge and a stove. Through the door of the art room and down a short hall were the other 2 bathrooms. The Mens Room. And The Womens Room. The womens room served as the locker room to the pool out back. There were 3 showers, none of which had curtains and none of which had hot water. There were also toilet stalls and sinks.

By far the stand out feature was the fireplace. And it wasn’t enough to keep my spirits from falling rapidly, I’ll be honest. I walked around for 3 hours hoping I was in the wrong place, but knowing I wasn’t. It wasn’t until my teammates started arriving that I started feeling better about it. Together, we could commiserate and laugh about it. My spirits lifted again with thoughts of the next days ride.

DAY 2 – Severe Thunderstorms

It rained all morning. No, it poured all morning. So, at lunch, when the sun peeked through for 20 minutes we all ran to get our clothes on and hit the road. We hadn’t even made it out of the camp gate before it started raining again. Within 6 miles it had started pouring. Some of us were seriously questioning what the hell we were doing, but were assured by one of the guys we’d be “fine”. And technically, I guess we were. After all, it’s Monday morning and I’m still alive.

Riding in the rain is one thing. But, when the thunder and lightning start, you’ve made a bad decision. One of my team mates suggested taking shelter but we were told, “It’s not even close to us.”

(FLASH)…one - one thousand, two-one thousand, three-one CRASH! BOOM! BANG! Not even close, eh? But, as I said, technically, we are fine now. Even when it started to hail…yes, m-f-in’ HAIL, we pulled through. We made it up Sassafrass Mountain and then high tailed it home. I think we got in a whopping 15 miles.

Here’s where the fireplace made the whole “cabin” rental worth it. There was plenty of wood and kindling for our use and the wood was tucked nicely under the porch so it stayed dry. We sat in front of a huge fire and, since no one was dead, laughed about our own stupidity in riding through a severe thunderstorm.

Dinner was stellar. Pasta Provisions provided us lasagna complete with all the fixin’s – spring salad, ricotta, croutons, focaccia bread, dressing, calamata olives, and tiramisu. I think we all felt better with a hot meal and a fire going. Also, more of our teammates started arriving and we figured out where to turn on the hot water, so we had a great evening.

Day 3 - The Big One

Originally, we had planned on a 100 miles for our Saturday ride. But, plans are made to be broken. It was a beautiful day. We headed out to climb Rt. 215 from Rosman to the Blue Ridge Parkway. Here's the day in photos:

Getting ready to head out.

The sign at the start of Rt. 215

Suffering on the climb. But, apparently not suffering so much that I can't work the camera.

The sign near the top of Rt. 215. It was super cold up here. Even though you prepare for the cold, by the time you get to the top, you're very sweaty and sweat and cold don't mix. From here, we pushed ourselves hard up the Parkway to 276 where we descended back into Brevard and warmer weather. That's when we decided to bag 100 in favor of slightly more on Sunday. We headed back to the cabin, ending up with about 65 miles.

Quick story about a random dude: Upon approach to the cabin, I noticed a red van, not belonging to any of us, sitting outside of our living quarters. When we got to the cabin, a strange man was walking out. I asked suspiciously if there was something wrong and if I could help him with anything. All he said was he "didn't know nothin' 'bout that" and that he was "workin' out here and had to pee" he asked if I "have a problem with that" and that he "hoped not". Before I could tell him what my problem with it was, he was off in the van. Creepy.

Day 3 concluded with dinner at our usual Mexican place in Brevard, Cielito Linda, where the food is aplenty and the drinks are massive and strong. After dinner we found one store open, Hunter's and Gatherers, and shopped there for a while. The owner suggested we make our way to the gelato place down the street and we did. Half of Kiwi Gelato (owned by a New Zealander) was a chocolatier (Downtown Chocolates) with no less than 15 different flavored truffles, each of which needed to be purchased...by me. Ye-haw.

DAY 4 - Good Bye

That's a good lookin' group right there. The last ride of the weekend ended up being about 55 miles and included a fast downhill on Rt. 176 and then a 7 mile steep climb up Caesar's Head Mountain.

We didn't get in quite as many miles as we'd hoped over the weekend thanks to a little nasty weather, but i think it's safe to say, the team is looking strong and, man, are they fun to hang out with. As usual, I had a hard time saying good-bye, especially to the friends who live in far off places...Missy and Kat. But, there's a lot of racing to be done yet this season and I'm already looking forward to next year's team camp.

Cheers. Ride safe.

I’m Not Breaking Down, I’m Breaking Out

I didn’t get dropped. I was never in danger of getting dropped. And for the first time in 2 years, I feel like I may be able to overcome this Cat 3 Limbo thing. And I can’t help but wonder…is it the new wheels?

I put a pair of Mavic Ksyrium Elite’s on my bike a few weeks ago…not the lightest wheels, I know, but a full pound lighter than my former set. Has my lack of success in this sport been caused by heavy wheels? For now and for my ego, I’m gonna have to give myself a little credit for my performance before I give myself over to the Mavic Gods.

I mean, I’m not ready to start talking trash to the Pro’s at the start line, yet, but knowing I can keep up is a great mental victory. It means I’m not racing in a constant state of panic. It means my nerves can relax a little on the start line. It means I can now focus my training on more specified skills. Skills like sprinting, for instance.

I’ve spent most of the winter doing a lot of climbing in an effort to get strong and it definitely paid off this weekend in the Patriots Trail Road Race in Rock Hill, SC. In the past, as soon as the road tilts upward, I end up at the back of the pack praying to hang on. Not this weekend. Honestly, I’ve never felt so comfortable on the hills. I was able to sit in easily and able to follow the accelerations as the field spread out and gaps opened. I helped chase breaks and even followed an attack or two, but was not quite comfortable enough to put in any attacks myself. Small steps.

The Rock Hill Old Towne Crit was a huge success for me as well because up until Saturday, I had always been dropped in that race. With my heart rate red lining for the bulk of the race, I wasn’t employing too many strategies; only one – hang on. I can’t begin to explain the elation going through me when I heard race announcer, Chad Andrews, call last lap. My body seemed to relax as I realized I’d reached my goal for the race. My heart rate actually dropped as the panic left my brain. I was so excited, I wanted to attack on the back stretch, but I was blocked in so I stayed put. Again, small steps.

(That's Kat Clark from Kenda Tire on the front. Leigh Hopkins from Vanderkitten is hidden behind her, followed by Deb Sweeney Whitmore from BMW-Bianchi, my teammate, Christina DeKraay and Morgan Patton from Team Type One. More importantly, that's me in the blue helmet toward the back taking a drink of water during the crit. Proof of my allegations in this blog.)

So, instead of breaking down, I appear to be breaking out…which means I get to enjoy bike racing again. Unlike last year, I finished this weekend of racing with a big smile and I soooo can’t wait for Charleston in a couple weeks.