Rocheport Roubaix
So I am signed up for Ironman Boulder this year. And as someone that has always hated training in the cold, I am also signing up for things that challenge me to train. So I signed up for the Rocheport Roubaix. What I thought was going to be a leisurely ride on a trail proved to be anything but. I obviously had no concept of what a "gravel grinder" really was. I do now. There were 4 race distances: 20, 30, 55, and 70. Of course I had signed up for the 70 mile route. Of course. The meteorologist was predicting a snowstorm on the day of the race starting around noon. With ten inches of snow expected. Awesome. I had no idea how woefully unprepared I really was for such an event. Although to give you an idea, Jason and I were trying to fix my rear brake cable wire at 10 o'clock the evening before.
I grabbed a lot of random clothing and food and threw it in the car before taking off for Rocheport at about 6:30 in the morning. I had 2 different jackets to choose from, several base layers, long socks, 2 pairs of cycling shoes, toe covers, 2 different pairs of gloves (lobster and mittens), thermal bibs, a full head covering, etc. For nourishment, I literally scavenged for gu's that I found in the laundry room and old race bags. I grabbed some GU chomps and a granola bar or two. Filled up my Solomon pack with 1.5 liters of water and took a spare bottle (ya know just in case it wouldn't freeze). Oh yeah, did I mention that the temp was in the single digits and I hate the cold?
After arriving in Rocheport, I drove around until I found the start. Not a whole lot of fanfare for this one. Got my race number and sweatshirt. Thankfully took a map and route cue sheet. I have no idea why I thought it would be a well marked route. And on top of that I thought that I would be riding with a group so it wouldn't matter anyways. How naive I was...
Mark Livesay started asking for the racers to assemble at the start line. I still needed air! I was riding my cyclocross bike with deeper rims that had tubes in them with the shortest valve stems on the face of the earth. And with only 30 psi of air in my tires I knew I needed more. I asked a random guy for a pump and he handed it to me. And I was like, yeah, I actually need some help though as I pulled my crack pipe out of my bag to jam onto the tip of the stem. Of course the pump didn't engage so although we were putting air in we had no idea how much. Hell I laughed and said I don't even know how much to put in for a ride like this! He said he was running 50 psi and took off. Wait! I still have the front tire to do... but it was too late. We had to line up. There were thirty of us in all - 28 guys and 2 girls. So there I was on the line with 30 psi of air in the front tire and who knows how much more in the rear. Off we went! I figured that somewhere along the course, there would be a pump and I could fill up the front tire too.
I rode the first 12 miles with a group of guys and the only other girl riding. Wow. It was tough. Fresh gravel (boulders) and hills. Not anywhere near what I was expecting. I was at the back of the group barely hanging on when we reached the first aid station. My water was already frozen - including my hydration pack which was insulated AND underneath my wind jacket. I stopped to get some water knowing it would be a long day and lost the group. I rode the next 20-25 miles on my own. They were terrible. Horrible. Hilly. A lot of "guys named Eddie" decided it was a great day to help me get my heart rate up. In case you missed the reference... that meant dogs. Lots of them. Pit bulls and rottweilers oh my. The more I rode the more grateful I was that I no longer lived in Columbia. Roads became familiar and I'm damn near sure that I've been chased by those same animals in the past. The girl passed me at mile 20 and I didn't even care. I was increasingly questioning my mental fortitude and ability to finish the race as the miles passed. I came upon a rider on the side of the road, slowed, and asked him if he had everything he needed (as if I could help! Ha!). He asked me if I had a minute and I said sure. So I pulled over and got off the bike. He had a flat. "Do you know how to open these brakes?" Ahah! Why yes, I do, actually. Amazed that I could actually help. He successfully opened the cantilever brakes and got to work changing the tire. I took off as it was about 7 degrees and I was starting to get cold.
Somewhere around mile 35 or so was the second aid station. There were riders there! Yay people! The Mickster was there and looked like he had called it a day as he was sitting in a car warming up. Another rider with a yellow jacket was using the heaters to warm up his hands. Other riders were coming back from a loop they had completed. One rather speedy dude had lost the main group and said he had walked up the KOM. I thought he meant the KOM that we had already completed that wasn't all that bad. Bummer for him I thought. I downed a red bull and took off with the guy who had been warming his hands. I tagged along with him for about 10 miles (awesome wind blocking) until we reached it. There it was... KOM #2. Oh crap. This is what the other guy was talking about. I knew I was done for before I even started but I gave it a go. The guy I was with told me I had it. But I didn't. I had built this cross bike up myself with parts from an old tri bike. I had a 50/39 chainring coupled with a 12-25 cassette. I was severely limited on gearing. I even tried to bob and weave my way up the damn thing. It was not going to happen today. When I could rotate the pedals no more I stopped. And walked my ass up the hill. I haven't walked up a hill in years. Humbling to say the least. I struggled to finish the loop as it was windy with lots of fresh gravel. Upon returning to the aid station again, I chugged another red bull and continued on.
I rode the remainder of the ride by myself. I kept telling myself that there was no way I could make it. But I had the sweatshirt that said 'FINISHER' on the sleeve. So I had to keep moving. The fresh gravel and hills never really ended but for some reason the last 20 miles didn't seem nearly as terrible as the middle 20. Maybe it was because there was more pavement. Maybe it was because I wasn't chased by any dogs. Maybe it was because I was numb. Maybe it was because the granola bar I ate tasted like the greatest thing I had eaten in years. Maybe it was because I didn't want to hear Jason say 'I told you so.' Whatever it was... it worked.
I made it to the finish line...crossed... and just kept riding straight to my car. I sat in the car trying to warm up. Knowing that I needed to start the drive home, I quickly gathered my medal. There were quite a few people hanging out enjoying beer and food at the General Store but I was mentally exhausted and had no strength to catch up with people from a past life. I gave Chrissie a hug and told her to thank everyone for the work they put in. Of the 30 that started, 26 finished. I finished 18th and 2nd/last woman. The 2 hour ride home was a much needed time to reflect on what had just transpired...
I grabbed a lot of random clothing and food and threw it in the car before taking off for Rocheport at about 6:30 in the morning. I had 2 different jackets to choose from, several base layers, long socks, 2 pairs of cycling shoes, toe covers, 2 different pairs of gloves (lobster and mittens), thermal bibs, a full head covering, etc. For nourishment, I literally scavenged for gu's that I found in the laundry room and old race bags. I grabbed some GU chomps and a granola bar or two. Filled up my Solomon pack with 1.5 liters of water and took a spare bottle (ya know just in case it wouldn't freeze). Oh yeah, did I mention that the temp was in the single digits and I hate the cold?
After arriving in Rocheport, I drove around until I found the start. Not a whole lot of fanfare for this one. Got my race number and sweatshirt. Thankfully took a map and route cue sheet. I have no idea why I thought it would be a well marked route. And on top of that I thought that I would be riding with a group so it wouldn't matter anyways. How naive I was...
Mark Livesay started asking for the racers to assemble at the start line. I still needed air! I was riding my cyclocross bike with deeper rims that had tubes in them with the shortest valve stems on the face of the earth. And with only 30 psi of air in my tires I knew I needed more. I asked a random guy for a pump and he handed it to me. And I was like, yeah, I actually need some help though as I pulled my crack pipe out of my bag to jam onto the tip of the stem. Of course the pump didn't engage so although we were putting air in we had no idea how much. Hell I laughed and said I don't even know how much to put in for a ride like this! He said he was running 50 psi and took off. Wait! I still have the front tire to do... but it was too late. We had to line up. There were thirty of us in all - 28 guys and 2 girls. So there I was on the line with 30 psi of air in the front tire and who knows how much more in the rear. Off we went! I figured that somewhere along the course, there would be a pump and I could fill up the front tire too.
I rode the first 12 miles with a group of guys and the only other girl riding. Wow. It was tough. Fresh gravel (boulders) and hills. Not anywhere near what I was expecting. I was at the back of the group barely hanging on when we reached the first aid station. My water was already frozen - including my hydration pack which was insulated AND underneath my wind jacket. I stopped to get some water knowing it would be a long day and lost the group. I rode the next 20-25 miles on my own. They were terrible. Horrible. Hilly. A lot of "guys named Eddie" decided it was a great day to help me get my heart rate up. In case you missed the reference... that meant dogs. Lots of them. Pit bulls and rottweilers oh my. The more I rode the more grateful I was that I no longer lived in Columbia. Roads became familiar and I'm damn near sure that I've been chased by those same animals in the past. The girl passed me at mile 20 and I didn't even care. I was increasingly questioning my mental fortitude and ability to finish the race as the miles passed. I came upon a rider on the side of the road, slowed, and asked him if he had everything he needed (as if I could help! Ha!). He asked me if I had a minute and I said sure. So I pulled over and got off the bike. He had a flat. "Do you know how to open these brakes?" Ahah! Why yes, I do, actually. Amazed that I could actually help. He successfully opened the cantilever brakes and got to work changing the tire. I took off as it was about 7 degrees and I was starting to get cold.
Somewhere around mile 35 or so was the second aid station. There were riders there! Yay people! The Mickster was there and looked like he had called it a day as he was sitting in a car warming up. Another rider with a yellow jacket was using the heaters to warm up his hands. Other riders were coming back from a loop they had completed. One rather speedy dude had lost the main group and said he had walked up the KOM. I thought he meant the KOM that we had already completed that wasn't all that bad. Bummer for him I thought. I downed a red bull and took off with the guy who had been warming his hands. I tagged along with him for about 10 miles (awesome wind blocking) until we reached it. There it was... KOM #2. Oh crap. This is what the other guy was talking about. I knew I was done for before I even started but I gave it a go. The guy I was with told me I had it. But I didn't. I had built this cross bike up myself with parts from an old tri bike. I had a 50/39 chainring coupled with a 12-25 cassette. I was severely limited on gearing. I even tried to bob and weave my way up the damn thing. It was not going to happen today. When I could rotate the pedals no more I stopped. And walked my ass up the hill. I haven't walked up a hill in years. Humbling to say the least. I struggled to finish the loop as it was windy with lots of fresh gravel. Upon returning to the aid station again, I chugged another red bull and continued on.
I rode the remainder of the ride by myself. I kept telling myself that there was no way I could make it. But I had the sweatshirt that said 'FINISHER' on the sleeve. So I had to keep moving. The fresh gravel and hills never really ended but for some reason the last 20 miles didn't seem nearly as terrible as the middle 20. Maybe it was because there was more pavement. Maybe it was because I wasn't chased by any dogs. Maybe it was because I was numb. Maybe it was because the granola bar I ate tasted like the greatest thing I had eaten in years. Maybe it was because I didn't want to hear Jason say 'I told you so.' Whatever it was... it worked.
I made it to the finish line...crossed... and just kept riding straight to my car. I sat in the car trying to warm up. Knowing that I needed to start the drive home, I quickly gathered my medal. There were quite a few people hanging out enjoying beer and food at the General Store but I was mentally exhausted and had no strength to catch up with people from a past life. I gave Chrissie a hug and told her to thank everyone for the work they put in. Of the 30 that started, 26 finished. I finished 18th and 2nd/last woman. The 2 hour ride home was a much needed time to reflect on what had just transpired...
posted by Nikki Reed Difani at 11:28 AM
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