Power:Too Much Weight and another Hilljunkie Classic

Well, yesterday was the Greylock TT, part of the BUMPS series. I had no expectations going in (as usual) and was sort of guesstimating where I'd finish. Based on past results, I was figuring ~48 min. Given my weight as of press time (157.4) I had no illusions of going much faster. Looking back to last year's log, I was 148 and change this time last year. I think I have a hormone problem. Like Oprah.

Anyway, I got a shit warm-up which apparently is my standard pre-race protocol. It's a good thing I don't take these things too seriously. I rolled up to the line literally <30 seconds before my start time. I spent the first 50 meters getting my right foot clicked in and away I went. It wasn't very long until I was passed by my 30 second guy. Have at it, buddy. Reservoir Rd. kicks up something fierce (in the neighborhood of 17%) and stays there. I was still trying to get my CV system opened up. It wasn't until I got through the gate into the park that I started to find my rhythm, well, whatever rhythm you can get at a steady 9-10% grade with steeper switchbacks. It was 25 minutes into the ride now and I was picking off riders. As I made it up to the upper slopes where the grade comes down a bit I went up into the big ring and began hammering, holding 20+ mph through this section. I probably went too deep into the well here because when I hit the turn with about a mile to go I had to spin for 30 seconds to recover. I had noone in front of me at this point and so I just put my head down to the finish. I crossed in 47:40, just under my pre-race estimation. If I have intentions of going faster on these things I have to work on the divisor in the power/weight equation. It's no mistake that the fastest guys are carrying the least amount of weight.

Post-hillclimb Hilljunkie Soiree

Doug seems to be coming back into form after his ankle mishap. I think he blitzed the TT in 44 and a half. I guess a week in Colorado at altitude will always help. Hanging around the summit, another young buck who apparently met Doug through his site wants to join us on our little "jaunt" through the Berkshires. I brought my buddy Paul along to show him just what these rides feel like. I knew Doug would appreciated this as he has this perverse satisfaction of ripping people's legs off on ridiculously steep climbs. Last year we did the Berkshire Boondoggle, a much longer version of the planned post-hillclimb route. A "fuck" may have slipped out of my mouth when the intended route would bring us over the famed Kingsley Hill Rd., aka meanest mile in MA. Great. My legs were pretty much toast from the hillclimb and I had serious doubts about even getting up this climb with a 34x26 minimum.

So starting out on 8 South after descending Greylock (fun, despite shivering for first 5 miles of descent) aforementioned young buck aka Aaron comes to the front and begins setting an "honest pace" at 26-27 mph. I began thinking, oh the climbs are going to feel wonderful if this keeps up. We make the turn for Hoosac Rd. and I resigned myself to backing off on the throttle as I knew this climb was a spanker and I hadn't yet flushed the legs out from the hillclimb. I took comfort in Doug saying that he was pretty trashed too and we rode up at conservational pace. Paul and Aaron were up the road a bit hopefully not burning too many matches for the ensuing climbs.

Hoosac Rd is roughly 4 miles, gaining ~1400' of vertical. The grade isn't too bad, maybe averaging 8-9% with a couple pitches exceeding 12%. My legs started to come around thanks to taking effort down a notch. The next 25-30 miles were nice as we made our way down 8a and West Hawley Rd., following the river.

Coming up Zoar Rd. heading toward Rowe, I was spinning with Paul and Dougie livens things up a bit by asking if we ladies are on an MS ride. I thought that was hysterical. Paul started to cramp and our water supplies were dwindling. A nice addition to the ride was Brittingham Rd., which gained over 300' in less than half a mile, the first couple hundred meters being well over 15%. It was here that I dug in a little bit and decided to see if I could catch Aaron who to this point had been KOMing all the climbs. I was able to catch him just as the road started to tilt downward a bit toward the top. Perhaps the standard gearing was getting to him or he was taking it easy.

Monroe Hill Rd. was next on the menu. The pace came down a bit on this one. A pall of anxiety descended upon us as the "Meanest Mile in Massachusetts" loomed just ahead. Descending Monroe Hill and coming over the bridge I quickly inhaled a gel hoping that it would magically transport me effortlessly over this beast of a climb. No such luck. Taking the right off River Rd., you see the worn out sign and you look up at a wall of asphalt. How the hell they paved this thing is beyond me. The first 100-150 meters the grade pushes 22-23%. I hit it out of the saddle in my 34x26 at a whopping 3.5 miles an hour. Aaron, pulling a move right out of the overgeared archive, dismounted and exclaimed, "This is so discouraging!" It really is if you look up. The road just ever so slightly snakes up the side of the mountain with exactly ZERO relief. Riding next to Doug his front tire was bouncing off the pavement. I'm probably a sick bastard, but I find these types of things highly amusing.

I notice that it's times like these that I feely truly alive. Everything is stripped away and all you hear is your breath (and Doug hacking). Every pedal stroke is agony but you keep going, inching along in your own exercise-induced trance. I think you just have to have faith that it will all be over sooner or later. I can say that if I hadn't done all those lovely ski resort mtb races this year, I would have been walking up Kingsley for sure. We all made it up one way or another and forged onward.

Paul began suffering badly from adductor cramps and so I gave him the remainder of my water. We still had Tilda Hill to contend with before the Rte. 2 plummet down into North Adams. Tilda drags on at an ever-increasing grade until it hits ~10%. I believe you've hit the top when you ironically see the sign for Bliss Rd. Seeing that Paul now knew where he was, I descended Rte. 2 with Doug and we all made it back to the car safely, facial bones intact.

Here's the file for metrics geeks.