My pre-race preparation is probably a lot like yours.  It begins well before the event.  Now, I’m not talking about checking equipment and gear-although that’s important too.  I am referring to the mental and physical countdown to the line. I suppose that you can make the argument that the preparation for all future races are the events and training going back to the very start of your cycling days.  In my youth I remember riding my brother’s Schwinn Varsity to high school in Bridgeport, Connecticut as fast-as-I-could, heart pounding, sides aching, through the less known parts of town and the delight that I took passing cars on the busy streets.  I felt that same feeling of the hair raising on the back of my neck last night, 35 years later and a thousand miles away, during a central Indiana training ride past fallow corn and barren fields of soy.     

The racing season always comes quickly to me.  I recall sitting on my trainer during the snow days here watching the clock go backwards as I pedaled to a favorite movie or to an ancient professional race long forgotten and less remembered like the 1988 Het-Volk or Milan-San Remo.  This week I did two tempo group rides with some above-threshold periods to re-connect with that dark place we go to, fear so much and need much more. I don’t use a monitor so I unscientifically determined that I am above threshold when I no longer hear someone on my wheel breathing behind me, my eyes well-up with tears and I can taste that metallic tinge in my mouth.  Or, I am dangling dangerously off the back in a crosswind and have missed the last echelon and the lights in my eyes are getting low.

Our racing season begins in earnest this weekend with several heading south to Louisville to check out the Long Run Park circuit, the first race in the McDonald’s Kentukiana Spring Classic Series.  I did some research and found that the course is a 1.7 mile loop.  I Googled the circuit, looked at the profile and topography and imagined the various parts of the course.  Where should I be in the final uphill sprint?  Where is it most likely to split? What’s the best line through the chicane?  Inside or outside?  I looked at the teams of those pre-registered;  Team Louisville, Masters, Callistoga, McDonalds, Nuvo.   Which is likely to send someone off for the win?  Which team should I work with to get to the break, which team will have enough to be blocking effectively?  Who should I get away with?   Who will likely chase me down?  All of this thinking can drive you crazy with anticipation.  For me, though, it’s meditative.  Cyclists sometimes talk of the luck involved with getting away or getting in the break, making the final selection.  But I am convinced that it has more to do with preparation and being ready.  Every bit of your planning, training and effort has led up to that exact moment where a decision needs to be made to bridge or not, attack, sit-in, back-off, to initiate or accept.  That moment will be here soon.  For my $30, I prefer being the fox to the hounds.  Ready or not.  Here I come.

I have a little problem.  I make New Year’s resolutions on January 1, but then break most of them on my birthday, two days later.  This year was no exception.  Like most cyclists, I have a Shackletonesque side.  I like to think that I am capable of epic adventures.  I am still somehow drawn to them-often poorly prepared and overconfident.  So, on January 3^rd, my 49^th birthday I was invited to ride 49 miles with a small but hearty group.  Normally, that’s not a distance that a cyclist of our caliber would find extraordinary, except for the fact that the new year was still very new and the sun had not yet been out this year.  Nonetheless, I met a group of 9 at South West Way park just, well,  south west of Indianapolis at 1pm.  Nebo Ridge and Hendricks and a few other teams were there, our good friend and former turtle Bob Brooks coordinated the ‘event’.  Today was to be about 3 hours, an out and back course with a couple of significant climbs. 

The ride began as cordially as most.  We were chatty into the tailwind, crosswind flat sections as we headed south.  I decided to ride my race bike and cleaned it before the ride.  I mean a deep, wipe-down-the-spokes-clean.  It just feels faster.  I would have normally taken my winter bike, with lights, downtube shifters, no computer, more rugged tires.  But knowing that we had some climbs and that we had a few hours in store, I opted for all of the performance and weight savings that I could get.  

Resolution #1: Stay in the small chainring until I have 1,000 miles on my legs.
Early into the ride, Bob indicated a sprint sign somewhere south of 144 on the way to Brooklyn.  The train began to fall into place with some opting smartly to sit this one out as we were early into the ride and energy and warmth would be a scarce commodity later.  I was looking around at who was getting into position and wondering why I was so near the front at this inopportune time.  Now, you know the rest of this story, and how it’s going to end of course.  And I could no more control my urge to sprint than I could stop breathing.

Bob kindly led out the windup offering with a taunt, “C’mon birthday boy!” which I think were the only words spoken in this afternoon and I responded by, alas shifting into the big ring. It felt effortless and right, much like the sail filling on my sailboat in a stiffening breeze. My bike immediately  responded.  The young star Graham offered me Bob’s wheel as the speed increased. I declined and instead fell in behind the young rider as the three of us hurtled toward the mark. Bob did an epic pull, longer than was necessary but hard enough to make my eyes tear behind my glasses.  I was sitting on Graham’s wheel when he accelerated toward the line at 35 miles an hour.  I hung on to the line but coming around him was as impossible as turning back the hands of time.  I remember telling my children at dinner the night before that gasoline was $0.25 when I was born and that Eisenhower was in the White House.   That seemed so long ago now.     

Resolution 2: No significant climbing until 500 miles.
It was a while before the others caught up to us.  I know because I still had the peculiar taste of vomit in my mouth and my lungs ached from the recent effort.  I quietly settled into the back of the small group and watched 5 of the fit riders pull away toward the climbs at the halfway point. We ascended one of the steepest climbs in Indiana (from my perspective at the time!) called Observatory Road.   I remember looking at my computer and seeing 4mph!  4mph!  I may as well be walking.

Fortunately, the ride was an out and back so the group would be waiting for us at the turn, or hopefully heading toward us.  We made it to a small town called Wilbur where the leaders had indeed been waiting and refueling.  I was soaked through my first layer and cold now.  I didn’t stop but turned and headed back with three others in a second group.

Resolution 3: Don’t get hypothermia and bonk on pre-season training rides.
The cold, my hunger and my initial efforts conspired to create a perfect storm raging around me. The  4 of us continued on the final 20 miles back to the warmth of the cars.  Fear turned to dread when I couldn’t stop chattering and shivering and the smallest rises became significant challenges.  We maintained a structured pace-line, even sorted out into an echelon on the crosswind stretches.  No one spoke as I felt a the rising mist meet me on this already gray day.   I just wanted to stop and take a little nap along the side of the road.   We were joined by Bob with about 5 miles to go, after an impressive chase for several miles.  He turned out to be the final horsepower we needed to get home.

We made it back to the cars after 3 hours on the road and I remember starting my car before I put the bike on the roof.  As I turned to leave the parking lot and head home, the young rider said, “Hey, Nice sprint back there.  You really made me work for it.”  “Thanks.” I said, and thought, happy birthday to me.    

So you want to be a bike racer.  Well then, welcome to Team Tortuga cycling!  We are one of Bloomington’s most established and respected cycling teams.  We work hard and we have experienced the thrill of victory 21 times last year and raced a combined 207 regional events.  Our thirty six racers range from high school speed demons to the over-the-hill- gang that can still mix it up with the best racers in the region.  We have six women who shared 9 victories, and strong Category 3, 4 and Masters squads.  So, whether you’re a teen looking for a fast time, a collegiate looking to improve your Little 500 speed, an accomplished racer yearning for strong team support or a ‘mature’ cyclist hoping to stay in the pack-join a winning team-TeamTortuga cycling.

In addition to racing most weekends, we have team training rides throughout the year and scheduled Wednesday night fast training rides.  We generally have team meetings once a month during the season.

To join, click on the “JOIN” link on our website: www.teamtortuga.org.

Send your completed forms to:

Team Tortuga
PO Box 8121
Bloomington, IN 47407

Call Tom Saccone, Director with questions at 317-519-1494 or email at sacconetom@yahoo.com