I’ve struggled to put my thoughts on the past few months into writing and so this post is a bit late but hey, better late than never. By this time it’s public knowledge that I will not be racing in 2016 and, although it pains me to be in “time out”, I believe that this is the best decision I could have made.
Before I start, I just want to say that being a professional cyclist with TIBCO-SVB was an incredible, awesome, positive and life changing experience and I do not regret a single second of the past two years. This blog is in no way meant to be negative, but rather an honest account and reflection of my experiences.
I was with TIBCO-SVB for two seasons and my team mates became like a second family. Each one of those phenomenal athletes continues to inspire me every day. I wish them all the success in the coming season and I am so bummed to be missing out on the adventures this year. Of course I owe a huge thank you to team owner and founder, Linda Jackson, who not only offered me the opportunity to be a part of one of the top women’s teams in the world, but who also taught, guided and mentored me, giving me every opportunity to succeed. Not only does she run one of the most successful pro teams, but she also has a huge heart and cares about each of her athletes as a person and works so hard behind the scenes to help us live our dreams.
So why am I not zipping up a jersey and standing on a start line right now? It’s not because I do not want to, it’s because I can’t. Over the past couple of years I have dug myself a really, really deep hole and I hope that by sharing my mistakes here that I can stop others from making the same mistakes. How did I end up here? A dangerous combination of natural talent, stubbornness, and unlimited opportunity. In 2013 I raced a bike for the first time and, within months, had earned a national championship medal, represented Canada at several European stage races and signed with a UCI professional team, TIBCO-SVB. I was living the dream. My focus, training and race load increased exponentially and, overnight, I went from cycling at a local, amateur level to putting in 25+ hours a week on the bike and logging 60+ race days per season. Initially, my performance gains also sky rocketed and I felt invincible. I wanted to be out training all day every day; I wanted to race every race; I wanted more. I did every workout at 100% or more, I found every excuse to log extra miles and lined up at every race I could find. Drunk on my early successes, I ignored the signs to slow down. I wanted more. What I had lost was balance and perspective.
Midway through the 2014 season, the effects of the abuse I was dishing out on my body were becoming difficult to ignore. I was anemic, amenorrheic, my immune system was virtually non existent and I was struggling with insomnia and bouts of depression. My body weight had dropped almost 10kg and then increased 18kg even though my dietary habits had become more and more neurotic. I was constantly sick with flus and colds and it would take forever to recover from even the smallest injuries. All I needed was to take a time out, to allow my body to recover, but I did exactly the opposite. The sicker I got, the harder I trained and so a vicious downward spiral started. But still I was strong and I pushed through and I kept on digging that hole. Coming into the 2015 season I injured my hamstring and, as per usual, I ignored all of the symptoms, sugar coated the severity of my health problems to myself and everyone else, and kept training. My hamstring eventually got bad enough that I couldn’t pedal and was forced to take a couple of weeks off. As soon as it felt just marginally better I was back on my bike and back racing.
In January, I finished 9th in the time trial stage at the UCI 2.2 six day Tour Feminino San Luis in Argentina and worked hard for the team in the other stages. That was the end. I had pushed my body and mind as far as I could and it was all falling apart. Every training day was a battle, every race day was a worse performance than the former and by mid season I knew that I couldn’t do it anymore. I needed a time out, a real 100% time out, and so began the painful process of acceptance and reintegration into life post sport.
Luckily I had a great support network to catch me when I fell. I came back to Victoria with nothing, starting over at square one, and everyone was there to help me succeed. This list is by no means exhaustive but I need to take a moment here to thank Robin, Darcy and Cass, without whom I would have been homeless in the months it took me to find stable employment and my own apartment. Thank you also to the boys at Trek Pro City for giving me an awesome job with awesome people in an industry I love, and to Catalyst Waterfront for the position as morning spin instructor. Not to be forgotten are my best friends who helped me reconnect with “normal life”, who went travelling with me and poured me wine and shared laughs and showed me the good life after sport; these relationships were so important to me as I transitioned out of pro sport.
I’ve been off the bike for six months now and it’s been the best thing that I could have done. Last week I spoke with my doctor and he confirmed what I already knew; I’m healthy again. I feel strong and fresh and happy. I miss training and, even more, I miss racing. It will be a challenge to take things slow but I have learned so much from the mistakes I made the first time around. This year I will be laying low; I will be riding my bike because I enjoy riding my bike, not for performance. I will continue to find balance and fulfillment outside of sport and to challenge myself academically.
I’m not finished with racing, but I am finished with racing at all costs. I hope that other young athletes can learn from the mistakes that I’ve made; find balance, listen to your body, and you’ll be a better athlete for it. Best of luck to everyone this season and I can’t wait to be on the start line with you next season.
Although I am not racing on the professional circuit this season, I am blessed and grateful to have the continued support of Global Relay Bridge the Gap, Rumble, BB Physio, Catalyst Waterfront and Trek Pro City. Thank you!
Pro cycling has taken me some pretty sweet places and I can now add the Las Vegas strip to that list. In a whirlwind of a trip I flew from beautiful Vancouver Island to the Nevada desert heat to represent Team TIBCO-SVB at Interbike alongside my swiss team mate, Patricia Schwager, and team founder, Linda Jackson. I had never been anywhere like Vegas but it was mildly reminiscent of a childhood trip to Disneyland…..except it was an entire city.
We would spend the days at Interbike, checking out all the cool new gear, demoing product, giving feedback on product we used this season and meeting all of the amazing people that allow us to race at the top level. Without our sponsors none of this would be possible; thank you for your support!
The convention was way too huge to summarize here but I can promise that 2016 will bring some really awesome new product. From tech to bikes to fashion, exciting things are coming! Some of the highlights for me were Fuji’s new super light bike weighing in at just 695g, Speedplay’s new aero pedal with walkable cleat, and Kurt Kinetic’s new inRide power meter and iphone app to maximize both the effectiveness and fun of those winter trainer days.
Once we had made the round of the race and performance side of Interbike, Patricia and I had time to explore some of the other sections of Interbike. From the practical to the whacky, there was a little bit of everything. Bike building competitions featuring rhinestone cruisers and Sailor Jerry rum valve caps, Japanese “Butt Show” workout equipment, trigger point massage chairs that blew my mind, hands free mini segways and free coffee and beer were just a few of the things we checked out. Huge kudos to Amgen Tour of California for supplying the free morning coffee and evening beer! Thank you!!
Interbike would wind down by early evening and so there was also plenty of time to explore Vegas, an opportunity that I was not going to waste. Each evening I would head out on the strip solo and each evening I made new friends; it was incredible how happy and friendly everyone was! Just walking up and down the strip and through the casinos and hotels would have provided a months worth of entertainment. The lights and music and atmosphere were infectious and so, rum spiked slushy in hand, I spent an entire evening simply walking around and taking in the sights.
On the last night I went to check out Shark Reef and treated myself to my first ever Cirque du Soleil show, Zumanity. Highly recommend both! Shark Reef is an aquarium in Mandalay Bay that contributes to school programs and wildlife conservation efforts, as well as homing rescued wildlife and running successful breeding programs for endangered species like the komodo dragon.
It seemed I had just arrived and already it was time to pack my bags, say goodbye to the flashing lights and head back to Canada. What a crazy city! Can’t wait to see you again Vegas!
As many of you already know, I have been struggling with a hamstring injury since November and am now finally returning to training after almost three full weeks completely off the bike. In this post, I wanted to share some of the mistakes I made, give a quick update on where I’m at now, and thank the many people involved in getting me back to training and racing.
Back in November I was putting in some serious hours; refreshed from several weeks of off-season R&R and excited for the new season. I was feeling healthy, strong and motivated. Then, a couple weeks into training, I started noticing a recurring discomfort in my right hamstring but pushed it to the back of my mind, keen to stay on track with my training program and hoping for a strong start to the season in Argentina. Over the weeks that followed, the initially intermittent discomfort became constant discomfort, then constant discomfort with intermittent pain, then constant pain. By mid-December I could no longer ignore the problem and finally admitted to myself that I was truly injured. Every effort on the bike was immediately met with violent protest from my hamstring and the pain was beginning to spread into my knee. At this point it was not the kind of pain that could be ignored; it would make my eyes water and palms sweat and, aside from interfering with my workouts, it was waking me up throughout the night.
Once I finally accepted that I was injured, it was time to have some honest talks with my coach and put in place a plan. In hindsight, I should have taken some time completely off the bike at this point but, at the time, I was still minimizing the severity of my injury in my own mind and was hoping to be able to train through it so that I would still be in good form for the early races. We dialed back the intensity and duration of the efforts I was doing, lowered the total training hours and put in more rest. At this point I was also seeing Barbara Bialokoz (http://bbphysio.com/) several times a week and she was working miracles. Between the many hours of physio and the reduced training load I was feeling exponentially better and so I kept on riding. The pain was back to being intermittent and the discomfort had, by this time, become my new normal so I paid little attention to it. What I really needed, and what my doctors and physio therapists had repeatedly told me, was to take some time completely off. No riding, no running, no high intensity or endurance activities. It wasn’t until months later that I finally took their advice. At this point I had gone through several cycles of forced reduced training, partial recovery and return to hard training or racing then back to forced reduction in training. My hamstring would heal just enough to reduce the pain to tolerable discomfort before I would be back to full efforts and, as a result, the injury never completely healed.
By the end of February my hamstring was so mangled that even pushing on the gas or brake pedal while driving was painful. I couldn’t ride, I couldn’t run, I couldn’t walk. I couldn’t even practice yoga properly because I had lost rotational movement in my right leg. I was finally accepting the full extent of the damage and the need for some time completely away from sport. I was angry with myself for having ignored the repeated recommendations for rest and for having pushed myself to a point where recovery was going to be much longer. My life had gone from being 95% consumed by training and other physical activity to sitting on a couch. I was frustrated and bored. On top of all that, I was feeling stressed about the upcoming training camps and races, about maintaining my fitness and not gaining weight. What most people do not realize, and what I wanted to share here, was how many people are involved behind the scenes in managing these situations.
The obvious part of the support team are the health care professionals; the doctors, physios, chiropracters, and massage therapists. I am fortunate to have the support of some of the best in their respective fields and each contributed enormously in my recovery. For physio, I spent many hours with Barbara Bialokoz (wwww.bbphysio.com) and Curtis Cramblett (http://www.revolutionsinfitness.com/). Aside from working on the injury itself, both Barbara and Curtis are experts in cycling analysis and bike fit and so were able to make some equipment changes and adjustments to protect my hamstring once I returned to training. Once the hamstring was 100% better, I would return to a fit and position for optimal performance. Massage was done by Craig de Veer (www.lesoigneur.com) and the team soigneur, Sabrina Jones and loosening up those muscles made a big difference in taking some of the tension off of the injured hamstring tendons and speeding recovery.
On the nutrition side, I was going from training for 3-5 hours per day to sitting on a couch so, obviously, I had to make some changes there. I’m lucky to be working with a great dietician, Susan Boegman. With her guidance I was able to adjust my diet to minimize loss of lean body mass and maintain body weight despite several weeks of completely sedentary living. Being able to limit the amount of muscle lost and maintain a healthy weight made a huge difference in how quickly I was able to return to good form. The best part about working with Susan is that it’s not some kind of crazy diet. It’s about eating whole foods, nutritious foods, and eating the right foods at the right times; it’s not about starving yourself.
Finally, there’s the mental side of injury, recovery and return to sport. Again, I am fortunate to have an integrated support team that includes a sport psychologist. I’ve been working with Sharleen Hoar since the start of my professional career and she has been a major factor in many of my successes. Through this injury she has helped me make the decision to take some time completely off the bike; a decision that I struggled with for many months but that was ultimately the right choice. When I finally did commit to complete rest, she helped me to manage the anxiety around losing fitness and valuable training hours in the final lead up to the start of racing as well as the stress of returning to training and competition. The ability to be confident, stay calm, and not over-do it in the first few weeks back are crucial in preventing re-injury.
It’s been a tough few months, especially the weeks of complete rest, but I’m feeling optimistic that I am back and ready for an amazing season. I learned a tough life lesson and have a new found respect for my body; not just its strengths, but also its limitations. It is so easy to get wrapped up in the sport; to push yourself harder and further every day. That discipline and drive and determination is how we got to be professional athletes in the first place. We can all dig deep but sometimes it’s better to take a step back, take that extra rest day or do a few less hours. Rule #5 does not always apply.
So again, thank you to all the people involved in my recovery and to my team for giving me the time and support to heal. Now let’s go race some bikes!
Before I begin, I would like to thank the race organization for putting on such a great event, Hugo and Carlos for providing the team with everything we needed, Barbara Bialokoz and Curtis Cramblett for fixing me up enough to race despite an injured hamstring (they’re both amazing so if you need some physiotherapy or bike fitting check out their contact info on my sponsors page), and of course to all the TIBCO SVB sponsors and staff without whom it would not be possible for us to live the dream.
It’s hard to believe that the 2015 season has already started and that the first seven race days have already come and gone. Just a few days into the New Year I was on a plane to San Francisco where the squad selected for the Tour Femenino San Luis in Argentina would meet up with TIBCO SVB’s new director, Ed Beamon. After a few days of getting reacquainted we were on our way to San Luis: six people, ten bikes, six suitcases and a dozen pieces of carry on in tow. South America had been on my list of places to travel to for a while and I was beyond excited to have the opportunity to go there with the team.
The end destination made the insane travel worth it. Door to door it would take us almost two days, a car, three planes and a bus. Along the way we lost all of our bike bags (the airlines prefer the term “misrouted luggage”), caught a glimpse of Mexico City, had a cup of coffee in Santiago (Chile) that was out of this world, and got to experience some interesting customs regulations and security measures (did you know that Mexico only allows 30 compact discs per person?….so random!). On the drive into San Luis, we had a chance to take in some of the breathtaking scenery; from rugged mountains to the shrub covered grasslands, the geography was as beautiful as it was varied. Intermittently the raw, untouched landscape was studded with clusters of huts and small houses or lone farm houses but for miles there was nothing but untouched nature. It was a beautiful country. Finally, two days and a whole lot of airport/airplane time later we finally arrived at our hotel in El Volcan, just outside San Luis.
There were a couple days to get acclimatized and recover before the racing started, which was lucky for us because it also meant there was time to locate and re-route our misrouted bikes. Big thank you to United Health Care as well as some of the locals for loaning us bikes in the mean time! What a great show of sportsmanship! Luckily our bikes did show up the night before the racing started and so by the morning of the Grand Prix, TIBCO SVB was ready to roll. This first race was just a one day, super simple, short race in downtown San Luis that was perfect to start the season and get back into the groove of racing. The course was a simple, flat, 15km oval that we would do five laps. With the GP to open up my legs I was feeling ready and excited for the main event: the six day Tour Femenino San Luis.
Cycling was obviously a popular sport in Argentina and the TFSL was receiving a fair amount of attention. The importance of the event started to sink in: we were getting the VIP treatment. Each team had a van and driver assigned to transport us to the different events and stages, people would clap and cheer when they saw a team roll by on a training ride or course recon, kids would come up asking for one of your bottles to have as a souvenir, and it seemed like there was always at least one camera in your face. It was going to be a bike racing experience unlike any I had experienced before, starting with the team presentation. Now, normally, a team presentation basically means you walk up onto a stage with your team, wave, smile, names get announced and then the next team goes. Not in Argentina! It was a “fashion show”. Catwalk, music, audience, live TV coverage…..us in spandex. Thank you bike racing for letting me live my secret dream of being a runway model.
After strutting our stuff at the team presentation it was time to get down to business. The heat was intense and I was feeling very grateful for all the hours I had spent in a heated yoga studio suffering through Bikram practice. I don’t think I would have survived mentally or physically if it had not been for Bikram. Standing on the start line one day my Garmin showed 50oC and we had two and a half hours of racing on wide open black asphalt ahead of us. That day I drank five bottles during the race and another three right after the finish. It was so hot that at some points I could not think of anything other than to drink water. I could not get it down my throat fast enough. We also had ice socks in our jerseys but the ice was melting so fast that each sock would only give a few minutes of relief. It took every bit of focus and discipline I had to even pay attention to the race, so strong was the desire to keep drinking water, keep getting water, and keep getting ice.
The first few couple stages were sprinters stages and United Health Care dominated but then things got a bit more interesting with a hilly stage in Merlo. The course was insane. It started with a 4km climb that shattered the field right out of the gate. Sheer willpower got my big booty over that hill and words cannot describe the relief I felt when we finally reached the descent. I did not even care that it was quite possibly the scariest descent I had ever done, I was just so relieved to still be there with the front group after 4km of basically bleeding from my eye balls from the effort. The descent was twisty, narrow, through residential streets and over rough asphalt and cement. Twice we rode through water, some sections were just gravel, the corners were treacherously sandy and, if that was not providing enough excitement, there was several stray dogs that found their way into the road as well. After the descent the front group got organized and I did a quick inventory of my team mates – two were missing. Both Kendall and Sara had crashed. Kendall was out of the race but Sara managed to make her way back some miles later despite having ended up in a ditch with a motorcycle in her lap. With five of us still there, we worked to cover moves and protect our GC rider, Lauren, but at the end of that day I think we were all pretty relieved simply to be (mostly) in one piece.
The following day was the individual time trial and, after the excitement of the previous day, I was looking forward to being all alone on a wide open road. Nothing crazy, no other riders, just me. Of course I was also excited to test my legs out. I hadn’t been on my Norcom TT bike since World Championships in September and had no idea how much I had in the tank. The course was perfect: smooth, fast, simple and only 14km starting on a long gradual downhill that had me flying through the starting kilometers. It may have been months since I had been on a TT bike but just a few minutes into the course I was settled into the familiar rhythm and the familiar pain. I was feeling strong and knew that I was setting a fast time. The last couple kilometers were brutal; a long false flat into a low grade climb in cross head winds. It felt like time had slowed I felt like the more effort I put into the pedals, the harder the wind and road fought back. My legs were on fire with the acid and I could taste blood as the burning flooded into every inch of my body. Up ahead I could see the pink banner of the finish line and I locked onto it, shutting out every other thought and sensation. After what felt like an eternity, my front wheel crossed the line and I gulped for air, gritting my teeth through the waves of fire rolling through my body.
It was early in the day but I had posted the fastest time yet and so got to spend some time in the hot seat. Eventually my time was bested and, at the end of the day I ended up in 9th place. For a first effort I was happy with my performance. I know there’s lots of room to improve still but a top ten finish is a success in my books and I’ll be using that as motivation over the next months of training.
Lauren, my team mate, stole the show that day taking both the stage win and the GC lead. The whole team left in high spirits: the win, three in the top fifteen, and the GC lead to defend going into the queen stage. We were ready to race!
It was a good thing we had the time trial in our legs as a warmup because the following day ended up being one long time trial for the TIBCO SVB domestiques. With Lauren in pink, we wanted to allow a break to go but without any of the GC contenders and maintaining the gap at one minute or less. By doing so we would keep Lauren in the GC lead, and we hoped that it would discourage attacks and therefore keep the race easier to control. There was a mountain top finish after a tough 5km climb and it was on this climb that Tink would be important to help Lauren. With Kendall injured from stage three, and Tink and Lauren protected, that left Kathrin, Sara and I to do the work. A break of eight riders went just a few kilometers into the stage and that meant 50 plus kilometers of suffering on the front for the three of us. With cross winds and wide open roads it was going to be a tough day but I was taking quite a bit of pleasure from knowing how much the three of us were hurting the rest of the peloton. Coming into a cross tail section I glanced back to see the field completely in the gutter, stretched out single file with no shortage of pain faces to be seen. Everything was going as planned and the gap was holding at just under a minute when Lauren suddenly told us to go steady.
We eased up and the gap went out to a minute and twenty seconds quickly. After the race we learned that some bad luck had befallen Tink. She had flatted just as we were ramping it up into a crosswind section and Lauren had had to put the brakes on so that Tink could make it back after her wheel change. With Tink back safely in our draft we stepped on the gas again and gave one last dig over the few kilometers of false flat leading into the base of the climb. Job done and tank empty I dropped through what remained of the peloton and watched the leaders attack the hill. The caravan started passing me and I grabbed water and ice before crawling myself up the hill.
When I finally reached the top I met up with the team and got the details on the finish. We had lost the pink jersey by just one second.
The last stage was laps of a flat, smooth oval with two intermediate sprints for bonus time. Our only real chance at winning back pink was for Lauren to get some of those bonus seconds. One second, that’s all we needed. But the Brazilian team, who were now in the lead, were ready for a fight. Right from the gun the race was fast and aggressive and for the next two and a half hours it never let up. Physically and emotionally this last stage was tumultuous. The whole team was putting in a huge effort and Lauren brought it home at the first intermediate sprint beating Fernandez, the Brazilian leader, across the line. Just under a third of the race done and we had moved into the virtual lead with a one second advantage over Brazil. That only made the racing faster and more aggressive. The second sprint came and this time Fernandez took the time and moved back into the lead. We fought hard but in the end we lost by just a few seconds. The air was thick with disappointment on the drive back to the hotel as each of us came to terms with the loss.
Big kudos to Ed who managed to lift everyone’s spirits in the team meeting that night. Yes, it was a big disappointment but we were able to take away the positive, be proud of what we did accomplish, learn from our mistakes and take the TFSL as motivation for the next races.
Seven days of racing done it was time to party South American style. The race organization hosted a wonderful after party in a hall just a few miles from the hotel. They served divine malbec wine and course after course of South American cuisine, most notably the famous barbequed meats and empanadas. Wine and beef: the two things Argentina is famous for. Then the DJ cranked up the music and the rest of the night was spent dancing and laughing and mingling. A perfect note to end a remarkable experience on.
This past year I made my debut as a professional road cyclist racing for Team TIBCO. It was a whirlwind year full of new experiences, places, and people and more often than not it still seems totally surreal. I feel as though I have packed 10 years of living into the last 12 months, which gives me a difficult to describe sense of overwhelming gratitude and barely surmountable exhaustion. While I would not trade the past year for anything, it does feel larger than life. It was time for a break and so, after World Championships in Ponferrada, I packed up my bike and put it away for the first time since I started training in January of 2013. Aside from a few days here and there that were rest or travel days, and a week of recovery after getting hit by a car, I had not had a day without a bike in 21 months. For almost two years my life had been 100% devoted to racing bikes. There was no balance; just bikes. That was all about to change: six weeks completely free – no bike, no fixed address, no responsibility. Six weeks to reflect, regroup, reconnect and relax.
The first three weeks would be spent traveling all over Western Europe: Switzerland, Germany, France, the Netherlands and Belgium. Never in one place for more than a few nights and living off of the smallest budget possible, I crammed as much living into those 3 weeks as humanly possible, becoming an expert in European public transit in the process. Of course none of this would have been possible without all the amazing friends and family that helped me out along the way. Thank you!
The adventures started in north eastern Switzerland with a short stay at my team mate Paddy’s house. Both exhausted from the last block of racing, we reveled in the chance to be totally lazy: sleeping in, letting her mom cook for us, hiking in sunshine drenched hills overlooking the mountains to the south, and soaking in the salt water at the local water park. I also invested in some running shoes and hit the trails and roads on a daily basis. After thousands of hours hunched over a race bike, it felt amazing to be upright, able to stretch my legs beyond the 170mm reach of my crank arm. The feeling of freedom and onset of the famous endorphin induced “runner’s high” quickly reminded me of what makes running so addicting. Within just a few days, my legs were churning out the miles as if I had never quit running in the first place and it felt good: no plan, no data, no time splits. Just running for the sake of running.
Next up was a train ride to the Black Forest to visit my family before hopping another train to Ulm to run the Einstein half marathon. What a race! The energy of the crowd was amazing: thousands of participants being cheered on by an equally sizable crowd of spectators. The course wound through the country side before twisting through Neu Ulm and finally finishing in front of the famous Ulmer Muenster. Breathtaking landscape and architecture as a backdrop to thousands of runners; it was incredible. The free beer at the finish line made it even better.
Over the following two weeks I hopped around all over Germany reconnecting with friends that I had not seen in years. Growing up in a military family, we moved a lot and this was the first time that I had really made an effort to go back to the scattered cities that I grew up in. From Memmingen, where I went to elementary school, to the castle in Heidelberg that my senior prom was held at, the next couple weeks were a like a flashback through my childhood and adolescence. While the transient lifestyle I grew up with definitely had its hardships, this trip also made me realize the countless places I could call home as a result and I felt very blessed.
Of course I made sure to balance out all that reminiscing with some new experiences along the way. The Geiger museum in Gruyeres, Switzerland, Oktoberfest in Munich, Germany, and a tour on the canals of Amsterdam were just some of the highlights. Far too soon it was time to head back to North America but I definitely have some more Euro travels on my bucket list. Anyone want to check out Poland or Croatia next year?
Back in North America but not quite ready to get back to training, I took a few more weeks of personal time. Starting with a quick stop in Ottawa to surprise my sister on her 18th birthday and continuing down to Florida and California to soak up the sun, my month of traveling North America was just as incredible as the Euro trip. This world is so full of surprise and wonder and adventure! Perhaps my favorite memory will be of snorkeling with my best friend, Heather, in Crystal River, Florida. The water was pristine and rich with flora and fauna, most famous of which were the manatee that gather there in swarms every winter to feed, escape the cold and raise their young. As an endangered species, the manatee are protected by a number of strictly enforced laws that prohibit human interference but we were lucky enough to come across an exceptionally curious and friendly manatee. Initiating contact with a manatee is forbidden but this animal was coming up to us, bumping us and using his lips and flippers to examine, grab and otherwise play with us. There we were in the water with a thousand pound wild animal breathing right in our faces! It was an experience so incredible it is impossible to put into words.
Having experienced the beauty and adventure of nature in Florida, I switched gears a bit in Los Angeles and took some time to explore the urban jungle instead. Hollywood to Beverly Hills to Santa Monica; from the California Science Center to my first American Football game at the USC Coliseum, to the live taping of a television show, it was pretty cool to see all of these iconic sites in real life. As a pro athlete with Olympic aspirations myself, standing in the Olympic stadium at a university that has produced more gold medal athletes than most countries was especially inspirational.
Finally, after dozens of cities, eleven countries and two continents, it was time to go back to Victoria and get back to training. The time away had given me the chance to reflect on the past two years and to think about the direction I wanted my career and life to take. The biggest thing that I concluded in the countless hours I spent running and thinking was that I needed balance. My life could not be just bikes anymore. To be a happy and well-rounded person, which would undoubtedly also make me a better athlete, I needed to be challenged academically, personally and socially in addition to the physical challenge and growth that bike racing provides. After taking weeks to explore and evaluate different options, I decided that the best way to accomplish this balance, while still being able to dedicate the time required for training, was to go back to school. As I type this blog post I am already sitting on a plane bound to Ottawa, Ontario, where I will be based for the next couple of years while I complete several coaching, nutrition, performance and business courses. My hope is that I will find the academic and intellectual challenge I crave in these courses, and that I can use that new found knowledge to become involved in the fitness community in a different way: through coaching recreational and amateur athletes. Of course the majority of my time with still be dedicated to racing bikes and it has been really good to get back to training, but my future as a bike racer will definitely be more balanced. After all, there’s more to life than riding bikes really, really fast.
Last week was the highlight of the season and of my athletic career thus far: the 2014 UCI Road World Championships in Ponferrada, Spain. I was beyond excited to have the opportunity to test my legs against the World’s best and honoured to have been selected for TIBCO’s Team Time Trial squad. The course was perfect for me – just shy of 40km, smooth roads, lots of flat or slightly downhill sections, only a couple technical corners, and just a short climb in the finishing kilometres. It was the kind of course where my love of a huge gear and low cadence would work to the team’s advantage. The plan was to use my power on the flats and downhills over the first 30km to buy the team some speed and time, and then to use the sprinters and climbers on the squad for the climb, descent and finishing kilometeres. I was planning on riding my big ring (54T) for the whole course, but had changed my small chainring from a 39T to a 42T just in case I couldn’t make it over the hills in a 54.
We arrived in Ponferrada a couple days before the race and had some time to settle in, preview the course, and experience the local culture. While I have been to southern Spain numerous times, this was my first time in northern Spain. It was beautiful! Driving into Leon from the Santander airport, we saw huge fields of golden sunflowers, red cliffs, rolling hills and herds of the glistening black bulls and elegant Andalusian horses that Spain is famous for. When we went to pre-ride the course, the magnitude of the event really started to sink in: the roads were barricaded, we had a police escort, and media was everywhere. Only 24 hours until the real race and time was flying by. I woke up the next morning feeling nervous but excited; I had slept well, eaten well, my legs were feeling fresh and I was feeling confident and ready to race. Today was going to be a good day.
Before I knew it, I was on my Kurt Kinetic trainer rocking through my warmup. I had made a new playlist that started with a motivational mp3 titled “Why We Fall”, all about chasing success and overcoming adversity, before getting into my usual mix of Tiesto and gangsta rap. Little did I know how relevant that mp3 would be.
Almost an hour later I was ready to race, got off my trainer and went to get my helmet, caffeine power gel, and aero booties. It was 13minutes to the start and time to head over for bike check. I grabbed my bike, saw the severed shift cable and panicked. Somehow the cable for the rear shifting had been cut and I barely had enough time to get to bike check, let alone re-cable my bike. $h!t.
Panicking was obviously not helping the situation and so I forced myself to take a deep breath and fought to keep my emotions under control. The worst thing I could do would be to panic and distract my team mates mere minutes before the start. I called our director, Ed Beamon, over and showed him the problem. The panic must have been written all over my face and the first thing he did was to give me a big hug while I fought to hold back the tears of anger and disappointment that were threatening to spill over. With Ed taking control of the situation I was able to breathe, refocus and get it together. He gave me the spare bike and sent me over to the start. At that point I was convinced I would be doing the race on the spare bike. There were less than ten minutes before the gun.
With three minutes to start we stepped onto the start ramp, lined up and focused. With 30 seconds to go I was clipped in, focused on my breathing and the opening meters of the race. 15 seconds to go and I closed my eyes waiting for the beeping of the timer to start the final countdown. Jo’s yell yanked me out of my trance – 11 seconds to go and our mechanic was throwing my TT bike over the barricade about 10m from the bottom of the start ramp. I looked at Jo and she kept yelling at me to go get my bike! Screw the timer, get the bike!
So I jumped off the spare bike, sprinted down the ramp as quickly as one can sprint in bike cleats, grabbed my Fuji TT bike and sprinted back up the ramp……cyclocross season is starting so it was probably good training for that. I made it behind the start line just as the rest of the team started and threw my leg over my bike getting one foot clipped in without too much fumbling around. The adrenaline had me shaking and was fogging my mind; all I could think of was that I need to get rolling and catch onto the back of the train. One foot clipped in I rolled down the ramp and started chasing my team, immediately realizing that my bike was in the small ring, the 42, and shortly after that realizing that it would not shift into the big ring: big problem. The start of the course is fast, on a bit of a downhill and for a minute or two I did not think I would be able to catch the team with such a small gear. It’s a good thing I started doing cadence pyramids in training because it took about 200rpm to generate enough speed to finally catch onto the back of the team. The overwhelming wave of adrenaline was definitely helping things as well.
Finally in the draft of my team mates, I took a second to breathe and evaluate the situation. There was absolutely no shifting on the front indicating that a cable had been cut, come loose or been disconnected. There wasn’t really anything I could do to fix that. Running through the course profile in my head, I decided the best thing I could do would be to try to take long pulls on sections with wind or slight uphills where I would be able to generate some speed and power despite the small chainring. In the downhill sections and through the technical sections I had no option but to fight to stay on the back of the train. If I let a gap open I was fairly certain my chances of chasing back on were slim to none. By the time I had settled down, come up with a plan and informed the rest of the team of my mechanical problems we were already 10km into the course and I barely remembered any of it.
My body, saturated with adrenaline, was feeling no pain and I was able to pull on the front repeatedly and at a ridiculously high cadence until about 25km into the course when I finally hit the wall. Hard. Suddenly the acid was stronger than the adrenaline and my legs screamed in protest. Forced to spin, I was unable to give them any real reprieve without risking being dropped from the team and so all I could do was to HTFU and do my best to recover a bit in the team’s draft. The pain made the next 10km seem to drag on for hours and, by the time I saw the finishing climb ahead of us, I had resigned myself to being dropped from the train before we reached the top. There was just no way I could push through more pain. Just as I was starting to allow myself to look forward to the physical relief of sitting up and dropping off, one of my team mates yelled out that she was done as she dropped from the train. We were now down to five riders, four needed to make it to the finish. Halfway up the climb another one of my team mates was dropped and we were down to four. I panicked.
It’s a good thing my computer was still on the spare bike as I’m pretty sure my heart rate at that point in the race had gone from the “this hurts” zone to “stop or you’re heart is going to explode and you’ll drop dead off your bike” zone. My three remaining team mates did everything they could to get me up that hill and, with their help, pedal stroke for pedal stroke, through wheezing, desperate gasps for air, I somehow made it to the crest. On the descent we reached over 70kph and my legs just about spun right off but the finish was now so close I could taste it. Another wave of adrenaline brought a second wind and the final kilometre flew by. In what seemed like mere seconds we were at the final corner, sprinting for the finish line 500m away and then, just as quickly as the race had started, it was all over.
Of course we were all disappointed with how the race went, but that is the way that sport goes. Nothing is ever perfect. At the end of the day, it’s how you react to the cards you’re dealt that matters. In the grand scheme of things, what happened to us was not so bad. No one was hurt, it brought us together as a team, it forced us to really fight. Next year we will come back stronger. Personally, I am still making the most of this amazing opportunity – absorbing the experience of competing at that level, learning all that I can, and taking the disappointment and frustration and using it as a burning source of motivation and focus in the training building up to next year’s World Championships.
So I had a bit of a mishap at the Tour de White Rock road race this past Sunday and, at the request of my friends in the peloton, I promised I would share the story. After 10 days of fast, technical, scary crit racing without incident, I somehow managed to get myself run over by a car two laps into the very last race of BC Superweek…….because clearly my life was lacking excitement, challenge and adversity.
The race started off without incident. Everyone was tired from a long block of racing, the big teams had left to prepare for Cascade, and the scorching heat combined with soul crushing climbs was definitely making the peloton think twice about lighting it up. It was going to be a long and hard enough race without throwing punches in the opening kilometers. We were coming along the coast on lap two when the excitement started. The bunch was all together coming down a bit of a roller when suddenly a car pulled out in front of us.
Now, crisis may have been avoided but it was one of those times where everything that could have possibly gone wrong went wrong. First problem: rather than accelerating, the driver stopped when he saw us, approximately 40 women, flying towards him at race speed. Second problem: the driver, best intentions I’m sure, tried to get out of our way by turning left…..directly into the path of our evasive maneuver around the vehicle. Third problem: I was second or third wheel on the right outside of the peloton. You know that saying “between a rock and a hard place”? Well, I was between a peloton and a car.
There was no where to go and not enough time or space to stop. I got the familiar you’re-about-to-almost-die metallic taste in my mouth and everything slowed down. Evolutionary theory suggests that this perceived slow motion is a survival tactic where the mind slows the processing of sensory information to give the body time to prepare and protect itself. How cool is that? The whole thing was probably over in seconds, but it seemed like an eternity. Trying to protect my chest and face, I twisted to the left to take the impact with my right shoulder and hip. I heard the thud of my thigh hitting metal and for a moment was stupidly optimistic.
This isn’t so bad! I am totally not going to go down! I’m just gonna lean into the car, slow down and put my foot down. No problem!
Haha….riiiiiiight. Wrong. At this point my right hip had also made contact with the side of the car and I had reached the side view mirror, which just happened to be perfectly aligned with the front of my bicep. Another thump, the sound of glass shattering and next thing I know I’m flat on my back on the road in front of the car.
The sun seemed way too bright, burning white hot, and I put my arm up to cover my face. My ears were ringing and everything sounded like I was underwater. My chin started throbbing a bit and there was thick, bright red blood everywhere. My first thought was “Oh $h!t I knocked my teeth out”. Quick inventory: all my teeth were still there. Ok, I’m all good. I got up, still hazy from the impact and the adrenaline, and struggled to decide between (a) punching the guy in the car and (b) chasing back into the race. I decided to get back in the race while shouting an impressive assortment of colorful profanity at the driver. My apologies, violence and profanity are not normally my go-to responses.
There were several people trying to help me, make sure I was okay, give me my bottles, fix my bike, get me medical attention but all I could think was that the gap to the peloton was getting bigger and bigger and I had to get back on my bike. Both shifters were bent in, and both brakes were twisted into my rims but it was still working. Thanks to the adrenaline still pumping through me, nothing hurt and I chased back onto the group in a flat out sprint. They had sat up, slowing down to give me a chance to catch up, so I was back in the bunch in no time. I knew I should sit in the draft, catch my breath, recover but I was still shaking with adrenaline so I lead it over the climb, took the descent at mach1 and didn’t sit up until my nerves were back under control.
It wasn’t until several laps later that I started really feeling the impact of what had happened. My chin felt like it was getting bigger by the second, the skin stretched uncomfortably tight, a headache was starting and my arm was throbbing. Only a couple more laps to go. Suck it up. I forced myself to focus on nothing but the wheel in front of me as I fought my way up the climb again. Shut it all out and focus, force the poker face, breathe.
Denise, Alison and Maria had about a 30 second lead on Megan and I and we were now halfway through the last lap. It was now or never. I forced my legs to spin faster, then started shifting down into smaller and smaller cogs. Rounding the corner into the last descent I could see the lead three now only a couple hundred meters in front of us. Megan on my wheel, I spun out my biggest gear, tucked low on my bike and tore down the descent closing the gap and setting up Megan to take the win just moments later.
I got off my bike, which was immediately taken by a volunteer, and was lead to the paramedics to get the glass out of my arm. Cleaned and bandaged up it was definitely Beer o’clock. What a day! Finishing that race probably wasn’t the smartest thing I’ve ever done but I’m glad I did. I remembered what Marianne Vos had said to me in the spring: “I never quit a race because then the next time it will be easier to quit. You always have to get back on your bike”. She was right, of course. Over the six laps following the accident I had worked through the pain and fear and doubt and desire to quit. I had finished strong and confident.
So why did I help Megan win? That’s a question a lot of people have asked me and there’s quite a few reasons. First, I was pretty sure that I could not beat Denise or Maria in the condition that my bike and I were in so, knowing that I couldn’t win myself, I needed to decide who I wanted to help out.
What people forget is that, even though we are on different teams and competing against each other, we all have friends in the peloton. Megan and I are from the same city, race the local races together and meet up for the occasional coffee shop spin. Furthermore, our riding styles really compliment each other so we both benefit from working together during races where our teams aren’t there (there’s no way I would have made it over those last few climbs without her). We had successfully worked with each other in several races over the past year and she had actually asked me the night before if I would work with her in the White Rock road race.
Perhaps the biggest motivation in helping out Megan was knowing that this race was important to her. I knew from past conversation that she really wanted to win this race so why not help her. Obviously we all want to win but for Megan this was a target race and I know that if the tables were turned she would do the same for me. For Megan’s account of the race check out the official race report: http://tourdewhiterock.ca/news/
In closing, I would like to thank everyone for all their concern and assistance. From the people who came to help me immediately following the accident to the paramedics who patched me up at the finish, thank you! I was especially humbled by the peloton; the number of riders that asked me if I was okay, that offered me bottles, that let me set the pace up the first few climbs after, that sent me texts or facebook messages in the days following. One rider even offered me her bike to finish the race on. It was such an incredible display of sportsmanship. Thank you.
So now on to the process of recovery. As much as I want to get back out there right away I need to take it easy for a bit, listen to my body and give it a chance to heal. See you all soon!
First, I would like to thank Global Relay for reviving the Gastown Grand Prix, definitely my favorite race of the season! Not only did they bring back this top level crit, they have made it better year after year, especially in regards to equality for women’s cycling. This year, the podium prize money and prime money was split equally between the men and the women, making Gastown the biggest women’s criterium prize purse in North America. Global Relay has also taken a leading role in supporting developing Canadian cyclist through their Bridge the Gap program. Thank you!
So about the race: last year, Gastown was one of the first big criteriums that I raced. I was nervous, racing without a team and lining up against some of the top crit racers in North America. For an hour I barely managed to hang on to the back of the pack, and I never even saw the front of the race. By the end, I was ecstatic just to have survived. One year later I stood on the same line but it was going to be a very different experience.
This time, I had five team mates with me: three sprinters and two other workers. We were excited to race, we were strong and we were ready to rock after some Revolver Coffee on Cambie Street (yes, Nigel, you were right: that coffee was some “next level $h!t”). The atmosphere was incredible! Swarms of people, live video, Lamborghini lead and follow cars, big cash and loud music all through the cobbled streets of Vancouver’s pub district.
Knowing we were one of the stronger teams, our team tactic was to race on the offensive, be aggressive and put the pressure on our competition to tire them out and set up our sprinters for the finish. I’m always down for a fast, hard race so this plan suited me just fine; bring on the sufferfest! The gun went and we were off, lead by the roar of the Lambo.
As soon as the chaos of the start and the first hairpin was over, I maneuvered my way through the peloton and wasted no time in throwing the first punch, attacking hard into the twisty cobbled section at the bottom of the course. Right from the start, the tone of the race was aggressive. The laps were flying by as we attacked, counter attacked and chased down different moves. Every few laps I would attack and get a bit of a gap, once managing to snag a prime after being off the front with Annie Foreman-Mackey for a lap.
With six laps to go, Jo yelled at me to go. Without thinking I went, bursting out of the group without looking back, I hammered it into the bottom turn before glancing back. I had opened a huge gap and only one rider had come with me. The icing on the cake was that that one rider was on Vanderkitten, which meant that all the pressure to chase us back would now be on Optum, our biggest competitors. It seemed like we were off the front forever and, after a couple laps, I started getting nervous. If Optum didn’t bring us back I would be the one that had to sprint. Having turned myself inside out for the past 45minutes of racing, I was almost positive I would not be able to take the win. There was nothing left. With three top sprinters sitting in the peloton, I couldn’t settle for second place. Even worse, I was worried that I would act as a launching pad for the VK rider. If I was her, if I had the legs left, that would be my plan – attack and go for a solo win.
Easing off enough to let the peloton start closing the gap, I caught my breath and got ready for the chaos that the last couple laps would bring. All back together with two laps to go and it was going to be an aggressive, messy bunch sprint. Unfortunately, things would get really messy on the final lap. Coming into the last hairpin, someone went down near the front of the bunch causing a bit of carnage and confusion. In the end, Jo and Sam both managed to avoid hitting the deck sprinting to second and third respectively.
It’s incredible how far women’s cycling has progressed just in the past year. When I raced the Tour de Delta in 2013, the men’s field was larger, the men’s prize money was bigger, the men’s race was UCI sanctioned while the women’s was not. Frustrated by the disparity between the men and women, I had a bit of a chip on my shoulder but I sucked it up, lined up and raced my heart out anyways…….like all the other incredible athletes that make up the women’s peloton. Now, just one year later, I lined up at the same race but as a part of a larger and more competitive field, racing for equal podium prize money, and with the women’s road race now also a UCI 2.1 event. Incredible! This event has truly been one of the leaders in the push for equality in the sport so I am really excited to be a part of the action again this year. Not only am I back for the action, but this year I am joined by my awesome team! Team TIBCO will be represented by a strong squad of sprinters supported by some big power riders.
Day 1 – MK Delta Crit
The first event of Tour de Delta is a four corner crit, including a bit of a tricky corner at the bottom of a little hill. Racing on this course really illustrated just how much I have learned and how much I have grown as a rider over the past year. The first time I raced this crit, I was so inexperienced and so afraid that I ended up getting dropped in that corner on every single lap forcing me to chase for the remainder of the lap, only to be dropped in the same corner again. Less than halfway through that race I had burned so many matches that I couldn’t chase back on anymore and was unceremoniously dismissed by the whistle: DNF. This year, the corner was no problem. Not only was I feeling confident, I was actually gaining position through that corner and, a few laps in, I was opening gaps attacking through that same corner.
With Optum and Vanderkitten also racing, I definitely was not the only person attacking. The race was aggressive right from the start and it wasn’t long before my legs were burning and I was wishing my team mates were with me. With the rest of the squad not arriving until the following day, I was the lone TIBCO rider. At one point I found myself in a promising break away with Jade and Annie of Optum, and Ellen from Stevens. We had put a significant gap between ourselves and the rest of the field but it was too early in the race. Despite our best efforts, the pack pulled us back.
A few more laps, plenty more attacks, some short lived break aways and more than half of the peloton had been dropped. Another breakaway had been established, including Denise Ramsden. I had gambled that this break would come back. It was a small group and they were dangling just out of reach but, unfortunately, I gambled wrong: the lead riders managed to hold their lead through the finishing kilometers.
Despite missing the winning break, I still finished top 10, a huge improvement over the previous year’s DNF. The icing on the cake was the call up that that top 10 finish had secured me at the Brenco crit on day 2.
Day 2 – Brenco Crit
The Brenco crit is definitely one of the more technical crits in BC Superweek with a nasty left hand corner into the finish line. Knowing that the peloton would be nervous and lining up early, I was definitely grateful to have earned a call up the previous day.
The gun went and sure enough it was aggressive right from the start, everyone wanting to be up front and safe through the first few laps. I had gotten off to a quick start, securing myself a spot in the front ten wheels and counting my blessings as the crunch of carbon and thud of flesh on asphalt alerted us to the carnage in the back of the peloton.
Lap after lap the speed stayed fairly high making it difficult to move up which, if you were already close to the front, made it fairly easy to maintain position. While the back part of the field was being ravaged by crashes, the front part of the field starting exchanging blows: attacking, sprinting for primes and counter attacking.
With ten laps to go the race organizers managed to make things even more exciting putting a prime on the line for every single lap for the remaining 9 laps. Now, if one thing makes the peloton go faster it’s cash. Sure enough, utter chaos unfolded. Optum was attempting to start a lead out train for Leah, some riders were fighting to get on Leah’s wheel to take advantage of her lead out, and countless other riders were battling it out for the money on each lap.
With three laps to go, I leaned into the corner just as another rider attempted to use that corner to move up for the prime sprint. She barreled into my bars, smashing me into the barriers and yet somehow, by the good grace of some higher power, we both managed to stay upright. It was, however, a bit too close for comfort and the evasive maneuvering that had kept me from eating $h!t had also cost me about twenty positions. Twenty positions back put me smack dab in the middle of the chaos and there was now only two laps to go.
I managed to fight my way up a few positions on the following lap but then, on the bell lap, disaster struck. Coming into the final corner before the finish I saw the pileup happening in front of me. Somewhere near the front of the field someone had gone down and what was left of the peloton was very quickly stacking up on top of that person. Grabbing a fistful of brakes, I skidded towards the wreckage just narrowly avoiding adding my own bike to the pile. Not an ideal way to end a bike race.
Day 3 – White Spot Delta UCI 2.1 Road Race
This is the first year that the Delta road race was a UCI race for the women so I was especially excited to be a part of it. Furthermore, the chance to win UCI points meant that Team TIBCO would be sending a solid squad to race. After two days of lining up solo against the Optum and Vanderkitten squads I was looking forward to racing with my team mates.
The morning of the race it was raining and the roads were slick. With a very technical course it was looking like it would be a treacherous race and so the first couple of laps were uneventful, everyone being just a little bit cautious on the slippery roads. Of course it couldn’t stay calm forever and, on the third lap, the attacks started.
Just like the previous two days, there were too many attacks to count. Everyone was taking a turn and several short lived breaks were established as a result. In the last laps there was a break with Jo that we all wanted to work but in the end it wasn’t meant to be. Day three and yet another bunch sprint to the finish. Our sprinters lined up and took 2nd, 3rd and 4th place. Congratulations to Leah for yet another win!
After three hard days of racing, I was pretty relieved that Monday would be a rest day. Spin in the sunshine with my team mates, selfies, coffee and laughs! Just what the mind and body needs before the crazy mid week crits at BC Superweek.
In my entire, albeit short, racing career I have never been as stressed out over a race as I was over the 2014 individual time trial national championships. I had basically come out of no where to take the silver medal in the same race in 2013. That one race had changed my life; pro contract, sponsorship deals, media interest, invitations to national team events and selection camps. One race. 40 minutes. BOOM. Overnight I went from local racer no one had ever heard of to the pro ranks.
On the one hand I was ecstatic, I was living the dream; on the other hand, I was freaking out. I had been thrown into the deep end and was barely managing to keep my head above water. Yes, I was and am really strong and, because of that physical strength, there was a lot of expectation. Countless times over the coming year a plurality of people voiced there opinions, predictions and expectations of me and, time and time again, I failed.
Regardless of why I was not getting results, a year of disappointment had put a serious hole in my confidence bucket. More than once I heard the comments and rumors going around about why I wasn’t getting results: lacked fitness, poor bike handling, gained weight, over training, under training, mentally weak, 2013 result was a fluke……and that’s just to name a few. So the night before the 2014 Championship time trial I laid on my bed wrought with nerves. I knew that people expected me to be on the podium, and I felt like if I failed again I would confirm the suspicion that 2013 had simply been luck.
The next morning I woke up freaking out, running through a dozen possible excuses not to race. Then my phone bleeped with the following message from my coach:
You are crazy awesome and strong. As long as you don’t let anyone distract you it’s going to be frigging great. That is the goal for pre race. Stay focused no matter what. You are a stone cold killer.
Just focus. Power, power power. Continually fight for a little more speed.
Results are for chumps. Performance is for champs.
Enjoy the hell out of it
He was right, there was no point in freaking out and there was no point in fixating on a need for a result. Neither would help my performance. I took a deep breath, gathered my brains, and focused: What can I do right now to perform? A thousand times in the hours leading up to the start of my race my mind wandered, my heart rate would start racing and my imagination would conquer up all the possible disasters; a thousand times I stopped, took a breath and focused. What can I do right now?
What can I do before we leave? Pack my race bag, pin my number, prep pre and post race nutrition, clean my race glasses, set up my garmin, double check my equipment
What can I do on the drive? Hydrate, visualize the course, breathe
What can I do pre-race? Get changed, lay out equipment, bike check, warm up, visualize, breathe
What can I do at the start line? Set my computer, stretch, visualize, breathe
Moments later I was clipped in, watching the countdown. This was it. Show time. 10 seconds to go and an overwhelming wave of nerves and nausea went through me. With every ounce of will power I forced my mind to be blank. I focused 100% on my breath. Do not panic. Breathe. Focus. Go.
I exploded out of the starting gate, my nerves once again getting the better of me, and fought to regain control. There’s 29km to go. No, you cannot sprint for 29km. Keep it in your pants, get a grip and focus. Several kilometers into the first lap I finally found my rhythm; I was finally calm and focused. The entire race I spent fighting to keep that focus. Focus on the corners, focus on cadence, focus on breathing. Shut out the doubts and fears and pain. Focus.
Crossing the finish line I had nothing left, it was all on the course. My lungs and legs were on fire and my whole body was shaking uncontrollably. No matter what the result, I knew that I had reached my goal: I had stayed focused and I had performed. Moments later doping control came up and started to introduce themselves. I currently had the fastest time and was expected to be on the podium. One by one the rest of the women finished, only Leah and Jasmin managing to come in ahead of the time I had set. I cannot even describe the feeling of relief that went through me when the final results were announced. After a year of disappointment and doubt I had done it, I had made it onto the podium. All the stress dissipated and I found myself actually excited for the following races.
Big congrats to Leah Kirchman on her first National time trial title and to my team mate Jasmin Glaesser who took silver just 2 seconds down from Leah. Also, congratulations to Gillian Carleton who finished just a few seconds off of the podium even after taking the past several months off due to illness.
Over dinner we discussed the best possible strategy for the road race the next day: 130km including five laps over Mt Morne, a 3km climb pitching up to 11% at the summit. With three riders (Jasmin, Alizee and myself), we were equally matched with Optum (Leah, Denise and Annie). There were a few amateur teams with large numbers and a handful of individual pro riders, like Gillian Carleton, but Optum and TIBCO would be the dominant teams. We decided that Jasmin was our team’s best chance of winning the race and so Alizee and I would be working for her. The plan was for Alizee and I to cover Optum, and to take turns attacking. If any other team attacked, we would let it go for Optum to chase. Our hope was to (a) whittle down the peloton and (b) force Optum to work, ideally dropping one of their riders.
Early in the race Megan Rathwell, the BC provincial champion two years running, attacked and got a gap. Sarah Coney from Trek Red Truck bridged up to Megan and the two of them started working together, slowly but steadily widening the gap. There was a bit of nervousness in the peloton but no one was reacting, everyone looking around waiting for someone else to do the work of chasing down the break. Megan, a strong climber, dropped Sara on Mt Morne and continued to widen the gap to the peloton. For 60km she rode solo at one point leading by more than five minutes.
The climb was slowly whittling down the field, a handful of riders dropping off each time, but all the key players were still there. TIBCO would attack and Optum would chase; Optum would attack and TIBCO would chase. Anytime both an Optum and a TIBCO rider had a gap everyone else would chase. Between attacks everyone would sit up, looking around and waiting for the next attack. As for Megan, no one was willing to do the work to close her ever growing lead. Finally, the stand off in the peloton came to an end: Optum started seriously chasing Megan. Unfortunately for TIBCO, Jasmin crashed just as Optum picked up the pace.
Alizee and I did what we could, making sure an Optum rider didn’t get away without us and doing our best to hide in what was left of the peloton, and waited for Jasmin. Almost an entire lap later Jasmin caught us again but, coming up on the climb, realized that her derailleur hanger was bent. Forced to change bikes, Jasmin was left chasing the lead group for the second time that day…….things were not looking good for us. At the front of the race, the three Optum riders had successfully chased back Megan and so there was a lead group of about twenty riders coming into the final lap. With the front group together, Optum and TIBCO started exchanging blows again. Back and forth, attack after attack, but nothing stuck.
On the last summit of Mt Morne there was a moment were the lead group split, a dangerous gap opening up, but the descent brought everyone back together. 30km to go and there were still twenty riders. As the kilometers counted down, more and more riders attempted to break away but it was becoming painfully obvious that this race would be decided in a bunch sprint.
The final kilometer was all uphill and never has a single kilometer felt so long. Despite crashing, changing bikes and chasing back on twice, Jasmin still managed to take 6th place overall and silver in the U23 classification. Leah confirmed her dominance as a sprinter taking the win by a mile.
The following day was a well earned rest day. My parents came to visit, we went to watch Svein win the men’s road race in a spectacular 120km solo break, enjoyed a great dinner and took in the view of Lac Megantic at sun set. After two days of solid performances I was feeling calm, confident and excited about the criterium.
Jasmin had to leave before the criterium and so it was just Alizee and I on the start line against all three Optum riders. Realistically, I knew that I had about a snow ball’s chance in hell of winning the crit but I wasn’t about to go down without a fight. My goals for this race were to stay focused on performance instead of results, to be aggressive and to be smart. I wanted my efforts to count, to make a difference in the race. There was no point in attacking just because or being on the front towing the pack around in a circle. I also wanted the group to be as small as possible at the finish.
Focused on my goals, I put in a solid warmup before lining up at the front of the field. My first goal was to set the tone for a fast and aggressive race right from the start. The gun went and I set the pace for the first lap, stringing out the field and opening gaps in the first couple minutes. At the end of the first lap I eased up just a touch and crossed my fingers that the others would want to play.
YES! Someone attacked, I went with it then someone else attacked. It was a slug fest. What was left of the peloton was exchanging blow after blow making, unlike the road race, everyone was taking a turn. This was going to be an aggressive race. Alizee and I took turns covering moves that had an Optum rider but other than that we did our best to put the pressure on Optum to cover the other riders’ attacks.
Everything was going great, the race was hard, half the field was gone and then things started to go really wrong for us. Leah attacked while I was boxed in. I looked around for Alizee but she was too far back. Denise bridged to Leah and still I couldn’t get out of the peloton. The next corner was coming up fast and it was my best shot at un-boxing myself…….but it wasn’t coming up fast enough: Annie had started to bridge to Leah and Denise. All three Optum riders were now off the front of the peloton.
Finally in the corner I swung wide, coming around the outside of the peloton in full sprint and quickly gaining on Annie who was now halfway to Leah and Denise. I knew I had to catch Annie before Annie caught her team mates or there would be no catching them; they would put their heads down and team time trial to sweep the podium. Time to HTFU, I had to be in that break. Digging deep one last time I managed to get on Annie’s wheel just as the Optum squad all came together and started to pick up the pace.
The odds were not in my favor……three strong Optum riders and me…….just me. Not good. I ran through the options in my head:
- Sit on the back of the Optum train and wait for the sprint
- Attack Optum
- Work with Optum
The first option sounded great in theory but I was pretty certain the ladies were not going to be okay with towing me around for another 20 laps so that I could be nice and rested for a sprint. The far more likely scenario was that I would overstay my welcome in their break away and that they would then simply take turns attacking me until I got dropped. Second option would be suicide so that was off the table. Third option was definitely the way to go. I knew that working with them I had virtually no chance of winning but I would have a really good chance at a podium finish. Given the situation, a podium finish sounded great to me.
Confident that I was making the best decision, I started to move up in the line, taking my turn at the front and hoping that Optum would agree to work with me. Luckily they did and for quite a while I was certain that this break was going to stick. We were strong, we were working and the peloton was out of site.
I’m not sure what happened but at some point the bunch decided to cooperate and give chase and, with strength in numbers, they brought us back. The attacks picked up again almost as soon as they caught us but nothing stuck. It wasn’t until the final laps that there was some reprieve in the pace.
With three laps to go it was looking like another bunch sprint and so I tried to get on Leah’s wheel, knowing that Optum would lead her out for the win and hoping to snag one of the remaining podium spots out of her draft. Unfortunately for me I got tangled up with another rider on the bell lap, losing my position and being forced to chase hard. The last lap ran its course and I finished up a respectable 6th while Annie and Denise lead Leah to victory.
With the crit also in the bag, Leah had won all three National titles; triple crown! Leah didn’t win because she was the best sprinter (although that definitely didn’t hurt) – all week she was aggressive, she worked, she earned her victories. Congratulations champ!