I have been exclusively focused on this sport for about 3 years now. Turns out, just telling yourself "I'm only going to dedicate my training to Cyclocross" is the equivalent to patting oneself on the back after posting that overtly controversial tweet to the world wide web. Did you really do anything there?
Don't get me wrong, I am dedicated to CX, but I did not take the deliberate steps necessary this year to be personally successful in the sport. I could immaturely blame my ability to not sit still, while complaining how I'm sooOoO busy all of the time. I'm a walking oxymoron. Pray for my husband and coach My teammate Kristen and I, set out the plan to start a CX team. After a year of solo flying, I this is very much what I needed. I'm a pack animal, and appreciate her patience when listening to my crazy philosophies and hypothesis on every damn thing. Pray for her too, because like Alex and Grant, she's stuck with me. As you may know, we try to communicate the proper balance of work and life. I'm a big believer in purpose, value, and transferable knowledge in everything I do. As one of my friend Tim says. "it's all the same shit". He's not wrong. I work as a Engineering Program Manager for Hitachi as well as train and race at the professional level. Think of each one of these things as cross training, but for your mind. One could argue that sitting in a room filled with with technical Engineers and Programmers as the mental fortitude needed to hang with Ruth Winder for her 6 hour "base ride" (muah, Ruth) Thus we come back to that word, "deliberate". I do not talk often about my career to shove it in your face. My intention is to let others know that work/training/racing is not only the majority of those who race, but it is the majority of women who race professional women's CX in the U.S. Who by the way, are ranked #2 in the world. We're talking racers who are Scientists, Doctors, PhD's, Lawyers, Teachers, students, c... who have insane and consistent results. It can work, and it does. It is not my intention to knock on those who solely race. If you can make it work, and that is what you want, that's absolutely incredible and respected. After 2 years of Grant (and Meredith) telling me to slow the eff down, it finally hit me. Back in August, I was slapped with significant adrenal fatigue, with the risk of chronic implications. This was due to a stressful work environment tied with my inability to utilize the bike as an outlet, but as a thing I needed to do. As athletes we are tough, but as a downside you can ignore warming signs. For me, I was not over-trained, it was mental stress and anxiety, and that shit is real. Everything felt hard, and could have easily been misconstrued as losing interest in racing, which was my initial (feared) reasoning. I would take a stressful work day and throw myself into my workouts as if it were my only purpose. When those didn't go well, I found myself fall into a depressed state. I got blood tests and worked with Grant to devise a recovery and rebuild plan. No TV, no screens after a certain hour, no added sugars, no stimulants (coffee), no downers (alcohol) of any kind, and no processed foods. It took about two weeks of “off” to start feeling like myself again. My first workout back was Boulder Cup, and although it hurt (ego and body), it was day 1. Since then we have been working to find what is right for me. Slowing down was the biggest thing. I removed any type of tempo riding, and did what I needed to do get that repeated punch sharpened, while keeping my endurance up. Spent much more time strength training and SO much more time recovering. Drinking water, timing the right kinds of foods correctly, body work, etc. I still have a beer (.. or more), because it's what the body wants. I'm not overly picky regarding food, I just eat what it wants and make sure it gets enough. Yes, my body wants Oreos sometimes. Physiologically, well, I began taking realistic and objective thoughts into what I was feeling and why. I wasn’t handling these stressors, but rather ignoring them and pushing through. Grant really helped with this. He holds up the mirror and it ain’t always pretty. Most of the time it isn’t pretty. Although the timing was rough, I needed this type of introspection. Additionally, I have spent a lot of time this year speaking with Dietitians, Sports Physiologists, Coaches, Doctors, etc, because these individuals are experts, they have dedicated their lives to understanding YOUR body. I'm not interested in your YouTube channel regarding your ketogenic diet plan, nor do I want to hear about "How I increased my FTP by 50 watts". Sure, stories and examples can be an interesting and digestible way to retain knowledge. But it's not a shortcut to solve your problems. Really put some deliberate thought into what works for you. Especially on a psychological level. After hitting my head in Tulsa, ultimately getting a concussion, I immediately felt embarrassed and just frustrated with myself. I always get hurt, it's no secret. But as Grant told me that same day: "you push yourself, that's not a bad thing, it will come together". You know what, he's right. I put myself our there, and I don't want to cover up these life moments that are so crucial to a developing athlete... or human. I had some of my best results of my life this season. I sprinted for a UCI podium (s’close), raced internationally, accepted a PMO Mananger position at new company starting in January, and started a team with one of my besties. Not to mention other life things: bought a house and adopted a (demon) pup. I'll continue towards the path of transparency, hopefully without annoying any of you too much. 2019, the year of team & career development with a focus on deliberate goals and practices. We will be sharing the stories of those who balance. Stoked for that one. Getting hurt sucks. But there are many things that don't.
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I love mud. And I love riding my bike in mud. It’s especially fun when a rut under the soupy, brown goop catches my wheel and throws me face first into the soft, sticky mess… all while cyclocross fans lining the racecourse shout a collective “oooohhhh” followed by laughs and gentle encouragements as I stagger to my feet. I mean, how can you take yourself seriously when this is the pinnacle of your entire season? To call the US Cyclocross National Championship race “muddy” is beyond an understatement. It’s like calling 15-time national champion Katie Compton merely a “good” rider. Nope. Like Compton, this year’s course was epic, incredibly tough, and absolutely legendary. The course was a mere two-plus mile loop twisting and turning throughout an undulating park in the heart of Louisville, Kentucky. It wound its way up and down steep hills and traversed the park with challenging off camber sections. And while the course was challenging enough on its own, as it transitioned from grass to mud it became downright diabolical. Lucky for me, I got to experience this circuit of doom twice. Once on Saturday for the single speed race (because what makes mud even more fun? Riding it with a single gear while dressed up as an 80’s women’s wrestling character… we can dive into that on another day…) and again for the Elite race on Sunday. But rather than talking about the ups and falling downs of each race I thought it would be more fun to examine the many layers of mud experienced throughout this dynamic course. Yes, there were different types of mud, very unique types in fact. The viscosity, ride-ability, soul-sucking-ness of the mud changed rapidly throughout the course making for these distinct segments featured below. For those of you who raced this course in its muddy gloriousness, enjoy reliving the nightmares. For the rest of you folks…. Just close your eyes and image the cool sliminess dripping down your neck and squishing between your hands…. Start Mud – You know what’s a good idea? Staring a race with a short, 50-meter paved downhill section that shoots straight into a soupy mess of mud and grass and ruts. Nothing like 50 women lining up elbow to nervous elbow ready to hit that section at max speed and just praying that everyone in front of you keeps it upright. Starting on the fourth row on Sunday was like doing a trust fall in middle school, just close your eyes, take a deep breath and dive in. Slip ‘n Slide Mud – Luckily, I made it through the start pretty much unscathed and we entered the slip ‘n slide section where we played bumper cars with each other. A few unlucky riders went down for the first of what was sure to be many dirt naps. This section was my favorite, it was the perfect kind of slippery mud that is all about balance and power. Slog Mud – Next up came the slog mud. This was mix of slippery and sticky mud just after the sandbox that was easy enough to navigate but that zapped your legs of power with every slow pedal stroke. This section provided a great appetizer of what was to come. Holy Shit Downhill Mud – The most exciting and my favorite part of the course came just after pit #1 when we hit a long, super-fast downhill section. It was the perfect combination of “Woohooo! This is so much fun, I’m flying,” and “Holy Shit, I just hit a rut and now I’m sliding on my face through the mud.” Luckily it was all very soft so face-planting didn’t hurt much, only the ego is still bruised at this point. I Hate My Life Uphill Mud – Basically the next 10 miles of the course was all uphill in the stickiest most soul-sucking mud you can imagine. These uphill switchbacks quickly turned into a death march rather than a run-up and I’ll admit it right here that I walked part of this. Yep, National Championship race and I was walking…slowly…while almost dying from a heart attack because it was so damn difficult. Luckily, there were tons of fans throughout this section so the internet is full of really unflattering photos of me flailing as I walked up this hill. Thanks friends…. Zonhoven Downhill Mud – After going face to face with death itself on that switchbacky section we had to basically turn ourselves around and face death once again while descending a super steep, loose drop that felt exactly like surfing Zonhoven’s iconic sandy descent. It’s another section where closing your eyes might have actually been the better choice. Where Did My Shoe Go Mud – As we reached the far side of the course, another difficult run-up with goopy, mucky mud appeared. On Saturday, this section was tough but not totally outrageous. On Sunday, however, the mud seemed to come alive, growing with every lap and grabbing hold of your feet with every step. The park’s groundskeeper is going to find 15 shoes on that hill next summer when the park finally dries out. Thank God They Opened A Grass Lane Non-Mud – For the single speed race on Saturday, we had to climb the Mount Everest of cyclocross muddy run-ups as we made our way back to pit #2. This hill literally broke my soul and had me contemplating not even racing on Sunday. Luckily, Dani, Nick, and friends peer-pressured me into racing the elite race and even more luckily, the course was rerouted through this section on Sunday, which provided a ridable grassy lane. Seriously, whoever made that call at USAC… THANK YOU. You may have just saved me from quitting bike racing all together with that glorious narrow patch of grass. Final Stretch, Are You F’ing Kidding Me Mud – After ascending the giant mud/grass hill and passing through pit #2, you hit a little bit of pavement thinking that the worst is behind you. And in reality, it is. But then, just for one last face slap, kick in the stomach, we had a short, peanut buttery section of mud with barriers. Yep, because there wasn’t enough f’ing running in this race, we needed some barriers to hop over and try and remount while ankle deep in sloppy mud. Just make sure you don’t slide off your slippery, muddy saddle while remounting because you’ll be doing it in front of all the start/finish line cameras and announcers…. Whoops.
OK. OK. In all seriousness, this muddy course was fantastic. It was a blast to ride in the places we could actually ride and then super challenging everywhere else. It was hands down the toughest, most physically demanding cross course I’ve ever raced. While Saturday’s single speed race didn’t go well for me, Sunday was much better and I’m so thankful for the supportive team around me that let me dwell on my result from Saturday for a hot minute, helped me drink a couple beers while planning crazy antics for the next day’s race, and then backed me 100% as I gave it my all on Sunday. 22nd place wasn’t what I was shooting for but I’m actually really pleased with the effort and execution. Maybe if I spent less time sliding face first through the mud or stopping to gasp for air on those treacherous run-ups I could have nabbed a top 20. But in the end, I’m happy to have survived and to have taken on this silly, crazy, ridiculously muddy and grueling course. Words: KP Photos: KP and Friends There comes a time in every cross season when I start to question my sanity. Why did I choose a sport where riding in frigid, wintery conditions is the norm? Why didn’t I stick to road racing where the biggest concern is deciding which sunny café we should stop at for a quick coffee and snack before venturing off onto a beautiful canyon climb…not whether or not I’ll get frostbite or ever be able to use my hands again. OK, OK, I exaggerate… (and I kid… love ya, roadies). We do live in Colorado where it’s not really THAT cold and I don’t often face frostbite as a real threat. But by the end of ‘cross season, the dark and wintery days do start to wear. And that is where the annual Desert Revival comes in. Four years ago, Nick and I stumbled into the best Thanksgiving tradition ever: Escape to the desert. This sunny, mountain bike-filled revival comes at the perfect time of the season, just as the cold temps become permanent and the short fall days start to drag on. We started this tradition in Sedona, Arizona or basically my favorite place on earth, but opted for the closer, more convenient Moab this year. So, after returning from a disappointing race weekend in Indiana at the Major Taylor Cross Cup, Nick and I packed up our camp gear and mountain bikes, dropped Cori off with the grandparents (she’s not much of a camping dog), and hit the road to meet up with Dani and Alex and a group or desert-loving friends for a shred-tastic couple days in Moab. While Moab didn’t offer the same warm, sunny rides that we’ve had down in Sedona, it does have the same revitalizing red sandstone rocks. There’s just something about that landscape that fills the soul. Plus, you get to feel like a superhero, scaling treacherous red rock walls on the bike, descending the steepest shit you can think of, and having no fear because it’s so damn sticky that your tires just grip and ride on… most of the time. We hit some of my favorite trails in Moab including Amasa Back and Captain Ahab. It’s amazing how quickly you can turn off the ‘cross brain and enter full mountain bike mode when you want to. Our rides included fewer miles but plenty of stops, snacks, and just general playing around on bikes. Dani and I agree we need more of this type of “training” in our lives. If not for the skills and strength you get from mountain biking, but for the fun attitude and the “lets just see if we can do it” way of looking at each challenge.
So, after spending a couple days crushing the sandstone singletrack, and getting crushed by it a as well, we’ve all returned from the desert feeling fresher, better, more excited to take on the final stretch of ‘cross season. It was the perfect reminder of why we love riding bikes, no matter what wheel size, tire width, or frame material. Bikes bring out the best in us and sometime, when we get a little stuck or a little frustrated, switching up the bike is all that we need. At least that’s the case for me. Or maybe this refreshed attitude and softened perspective is simply due to the copious number of s’mores consumed by the fireside. Hard to say. |
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September 2022
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