February 17 - Cantua Creek Road Race
Race info

Results

Reports:
35+4/5 Graeme Macalister
35+4/5 Nelson Willhite, Sierra Express/TONC

Report by: Graeme Macalister

Graeme Macalister and his *teammate* before the race Photo by Graeme Macalister © 2007

This is about as far as I want to drive to a race, but it was well worth the trip from San Francisco. Perfect weather- when the race ended, it was so warm I felt like I was at the start of the Leesville Gap R.R. The lack of leg warmers , arm warmers and shoe covers seemed to put every one in a good mood. At the start I sensed we had a pretty strong group, but there was some good natured banter and self deprecation going on to ease the pre-race jitters. The group was split in to A and B groups - I was in group B and a few minutes after group A's start, we were on our way.

We set off at a fairly stiff tempo through the opening rolling section and maintained it until we caught and passed group A before the 13 mile turnaround on the flat section. Not long into the return leg of the first lap, there were some strong attacks. I was caught out in the middle of the pack and I could only see glimpses of a group of five about 200m ahead and a couple of riders bridging over. The Central Valley Cycling club had riders en masse and it seemed they were trying to block , suddenly I wondered if my race might be over before it had begun. Crosswinds out and back meant for some occasional echelons, but most importantly, they discouraged any more attempts from individual riders to try and bridge over. In spite of wondering if the ship had sailed, our bunch rallied and by the beginning of the second lap we had picked off the break away riders one by one-or so we thought.

On the second lap I realized this race was more challenging than I had estimated. With no climb to split the field, I wondered if it was going to come down to a bunch sprint. After the rolling hills and the beginning of the flat section we were passed by a bunch from group A. There ensued a moment of confusion, where our group merged with the A group . It was less a case of our group latching on , it was more a case of the group A riders slowing down. After a few miles I talked to the CVC riders about forcing open a gap, by slowing down our bunch to let the group A riders go forward. This was achieved until there was a 300m gap. It was then that a CVC rider informed me that there was still a solo rider from our group ahead of both groups. He was part of the first lap breakaway.

As we approached the turnaround for the final leg I was debating if we should up the tempo, pass group A (again) and catch the solo rider .We were passed by our quarry on his final stretch and it seemed like he had a kilometer on us already. We had no choice but to press on and this time I felt obliged to get on the front and do some work - I could feel this one slipping away. Working with the CVC riders we blasted past group A and the solo rider they were chasing. I now felt I was in a dilemna . Our soloist was no where in sight and yet I didn't want to pull the bunch needlessly along, so I put in an attack. At most I got a 100m gap, but I could sense that I was being left out to fry, so I struggled no further and got back in the front of the group, as I was re-absorbed. I now accepted the certainty of our race being for second place and the almost certainty of a bunch sprint at the finish.

As we approached the final hill to the line the first jump came from the only female in our group.I had overheard her at the start line saying she had done this race before, so I figured this was a good wheel to follow. As the grade kicked in I came around her spinning a faster gear. Three quarters of the way up the gradient hurts more and I was starting to fade . Suddenly I felt the air turbulence of three riders passing by me. The gradient eases just before the line and I was spinning back up to them but I ran out of road. Although the confusion of both groups merging certainly helped the winner, this does not take anything away from a valiant effort so congratulations to Nelson Willhite.


Report by: Nelson Willhite

Cantua Creek Road Race
Date: 2/17/2007
Category: Masters 35+ 4/5 Group B
Field Size: 32

What competitive urge compels one to set their alarm clock to 3:50am for a Saturday morning drive down to Coalinga, CA in the midst of the desolated farmlands of the central valley along I-5? I packed on Friday night for two days of racing this weekend with an overnight stay planned in lovely Fresno. Turns out I didn't need the alarm because I was awake and doing somersaults in bed at about 2:00am. I got up before the alarm went off, loaded the car, blended myself a mocha frappe, and headed off at 4:30am. Fortunately the drive was relatively non-eventful (unless you count the roaring truck fire along I-5 about 30 miles from Cantua Creek) and I avoided the concrete traffic barriers and bikes flying off the roofs of cars ahead of me that have delayed my cycling road trips in the past.

Cantua Creek was supposed to be a relatively easy, warm-up race for me this weekend. I planned to save the big efforts for the longer, hilly Pine Flat Road Race on Sunday. The Cantua Creek course is an out-and-back along rolling hills in the farmlands. There are two 180 degree turn-arounds at the north and south ends of a 13-mile stretch of old Hwy 33 and our race was advertised as two 26-mile laps. The final 2-3 miles of each lap is a gradual, rolling climb to a moderately uphill finish. Given my inaugural experience with the Dunnigan "Hills" Road Race last year, I was pleasantly surprised by the length and difficulty of the finishing climb.

As we staged for the start a rumor spread through the Masters 35+ 4/5 peloton that our group would be split into two races. Sure enough they split the group at bib number 334, and yours truly, lucky number 336, was assigned to field B along with about a dozen riders from Central Valley Cycling (CVC). To say that CVC had the field stacked would be an understatement of drastic proportions. It looked more like a CVC club ride. We did have one female rider opt to join our field instead of the Women's 4 race, indicating she either has not read many of Masters 35+ 4/5 crash-fest reports or she is one brave lady. About 5 minutes after group A the whistle blew and we were off.

Immediately after the whistle our female interloper came to the front and started to hammer. I jumped on her wheel and the two of us quickly built a gap of about 100 meters on the field. Did I say that I had plan? Well, I found this turn of events to be quite interesting. I figured that the peloton wouldn't give this healthy lady with well-toned thighs the proper respect that she deserved so I decided to trade a few pulls with her and see what happened. Evidently I pulled through too hard because I immediately gapped her. The gap back to the pack was large enough that I chose to make them chase hard to bring me back. Better yet, I was hoping that one or two others would attack the pack and bridge to me. I settled into my best time trial bike position, monitored my cadence for consistency, and tried to maintain my heart rate right at my lactate threshold. I felt surprisingly comfortable and my legs felt strong.

I stayed off the front solo until just a few miles before the first turn-around when team CVC pulled the entire peloton back to me. I integrated into the front of the field and sucked wheels to recover a bit. There were a few brief accelerations, but no serious attacks. At the first turn-around we had already bridged the gap to field A that started 5 minutes ahead of us. We passed field A and very shortly thereafter an attack from one of the CVC riders had a group of four of us off the front with a small gap on our field. The CVC rider ensured us that his team would block for him, so we tried to settle into a rotating pace line, but we were quite dysfunctional in the early going. The riders with me would pull through so hard that they blew themselves up, then they'd sit at the back to recover and screw up the rotation. I found myself doing what felt like half of the work up front for the breakaway. Eventually our pace settled down sufficiently that we were able to establish a moderately functional rotation and we built a good gap on the field.

A few miles up the road we passed a solo rider who was off the front of field A. However, as soon as we started to climb our rotation broke down and I was once again doing more than my fair share of the pulls at the front. One of my breakaway companions pointed out that I was lighter than the others. Is my secret weapon of weight control no longer a secret? The CVC rider popped and dropped from our breakaway early on the climb. My other two breakaway companions didn't want to continue working because they thought team CVC would chase us down once their teammate was back in the fold. I was thinking to myself that we just dropped one of the strongest CVC riders (and the one who did most of the work to pull me back on the first lap). We had a head start and I had no intention of relinquishing it without making the others suffer a bit, so once again I headed off solo.

Now, when a course is designed with a turn-around, or even better when it consists of two turn-arounds, you get the perfect opportunity to definitively measure your gap to the field when you're in a breakaway. However, you have to remember to hit that big, red lap time button on your Polar HRM that you've been staring at for the better part of an hour. Unfortunately, I forgot, but I did see that I had a pretty good gap as field B came pounding up the finishing climb. I got back into my time trial position confident that I had plenty of time to recover for the up hill finish if (when) they caught me again. I decided to press forward until the next turn-around, measure my gap this time, and then make my final decision. I put my head down and continued to click over the pedals. The road was almost entirely straight and the few times that I dared to take a peak over my shoulder the chase pack was never in sight. I kept reeling in riders off the back of other fields which helped me to maintain my pace and focus. This portion of the course had a slight tailwind so the pain in my legs wasn't too bad and maintaining my speed wasn't too difficult.

I was still all alone with the chase nowhere in sight as I reached the final turn-around. This time I remembered to hit my lap time button and headed back toward the finish. My gap was a full 2 minutes and the pack had obviously not been chasing very hard because, to my excitement, I noticed that field A had overtaken and passed field B (my field)!! The solo rider off the front of field A was a visible carrot that caused their group to accelerate and chase harder than mine. I learned later that the fields in fact passed each other a few times during the final lap. Confusion was working to my advantage. Decision made. I'm all in. It's first or last. With the suffering ahead of me the next day's race was also squarely on the table. Only 30 more minutes of pain - I can manage this. I proceeded in the quest of the illusive solo breakaway win.

The return trip was painful and now I was heading squarely into a headwind. The muscles in my glutes and quads were beginning to seriously burn and often I found myself standing for several pedal strokes and on some of the short rollers to give them a brief respite. Not quite aerodynamic, but I was beginning to suffer. I worried constantly that I would crack and blow up before the finish. Eventually I passed the Women's 4 field which started over 10 minutes ahead of me. This provided an even greater buffer of confusion between me and the chase pack. Every time I dared to peak over my shoulder (and the looks were much more frequent now) the chase pack was nowhere in sight. At this point, however, I had no idea whether a chase pack would be the Women's 4 field, Masters 35+ 4/5 group A, or my group B. Well, I guess I'm racing them all!

I hit the rolling climb to the finish with still no chase group in sight. The pain in my legs and glutes was now searing and I had to stand for much of the climb to keep clicking over the pedals. Halfway up the climb and still there's no one in sight on the road behind. The worry and doubt are now gone, I'm going to pull this off!! Pass the 1km to go sign and then the finish is in sight. The excitement builds and the pain eases as I'm cheered by onlookers. I stood and accelerated (very slightly) to the finish line. By some freak accident I even remembered to hit my lap time marker because now I was curious by how far I'd won. Both of the Masters 35+ 4/5 groups and the Women's 4 field came across the finish line in an intertwined wave of mass confusion. The first riders arrived a little over a minute and a half after I had finished. I was amazed that they had only pulled back 30 seconds of my gap in the final 13 miles.

My focus immediately shifted to recovery for the Pine Flat Road Race the following day. I put my bike in my lowest gear and spun up and down the road for cool down and recovery. However, the pain in my glutes and quads did not ease, it only intensified. There was no cramping at all, but the muscles felt like they were one big knot. I started to think that racing the following day might be impossible. I changed clothes, loaded up the car, and hung around for the official results. The congratulations from my fellow racers did wonders for my ego but nothing to ease the pain in my glutes and quads. Literally, I had trouble walking. How would I ever be able to race again the following day? After I claimed my coveted Velo Promo T-shirt (a nice, blue, long-sleeved one) and $10 bounty for 1st place, I headed for my hotel in Fresno hoping for a miraculous recovery. I was seriously concerned that I would be unable to ride my bike the following day, much less race 62 miles in the hills!

Nelson Willhite
Sierra Express/TONC

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