A Breif History: Chapter Two,

So, this was the first time I had ever had a training plan. I mean a serious plan that I followed with few exceptions. Brian was really into coaching me by this time and we created a plan from Joe Friel’s book the Cyclists Training Bible (perhaps you have heard of it?). My first race was the Devils Punchbowl Road Race. The course was a 16 mile loop that the cat 4’s would do twice. It had a nasty climb right off the bat that would prove to cause more then a little pain. It was really hot and the new jersey I had bought for the occasion was sleeveless… apparently not allowed…one of the many UCI rules I was not aware of. So I was stuck wearing my baggy lime green training jersey, as if I needed more help looking like I had no clue what was going on. The race can pretty much be summed up as a suffer fest, which I guess is the way to describe most races, but this one really was. I had my first taste of what it feels like when you really want to push it to your limits. Even though I got dropped on the first climb, ended up in no mans land for a while (something Brian had pounded into my head to avoid at all costs), and was in extreme pain for the majority of the race… I had the best time. I think I finished tenth out of 15 or something. I was just happy that I managed to not come in last and that I completed the race. One of the best things about that day was that I had made a friend out on the course. This was going to become one of my most favorite things about racing. People who were your competitors at the start line can become your biggest allies in a matter of minutes. On a deeper personal level I also felt extremely proud of myself, which is something that I had not felt in quite a while. I had completed something that I had worked my ass off for and I felt elated! I left that first experience with an overwhelming desire to do it again as quickly as possible. *Side note: I fully believe that all people who cycle or participate in any endurance sport are a little crazy. You have to be…there is no way that most sane people would want to deal with the kind of pain that we put our bodies and minds through on a constant basis.

My second race was the Wenti Vineyard Road Race. The course was a 15 mile loop, two times around. I was much more mentally prepared for this race simply because I had an idea what to expect. Instead of 15 competitors in my category however, there were 47! But, I had just joined the Eastside Velo cycling Club and was sporting a new kit, so I actually looked liked I belonged in that race ;). I ended up getting dropped on the first climb (notice a trend devolving), but I was determined to not end up in ‘no man’s land’ again. There were a bunch of stragglers that couldn’t stick with the initial pace as well. I knew I was going to have bridge the gap and get someone to work with me. The first girl I came up to ended up rejecting my offer to work together. That was a huge mistake on her part. I knew enough by then to not waste my time so I pushed past her and bridged to the next girl who was thankfully willing to work with me right away. In our combined effort we picked up two more willing workers. Brian had taught me about drafting and pace line work but I this was the first time I got to put those skills to practice…and it paid off! We ended up working beautifully together, encouraging each other and supporting one another. And a few miles before the finish we caught the lead group. We snuck up right behind them and it was about 30 second before someone took notice and sounded the alarm. It was an explosion on the finishing climb and an all out grunt to the finish. I ended up coming in eighth place! Movin on up!

Next on the agenda… Kern County Women’s Stage Race. This was the biggest race of my season and I was just along for the ride. I had trained hard but I knew that this was going to be a new beast…multiple days and much more strategizing. I honestly had no expectations. I wanted to do well of course, but I was realistic in that this was my first year/season of riding/racing and my third race ever. What happened next surprised everyone and myself most of all. In short, I ended up doing better then I thought I would… The first stage was a time trail and I did well, putting myself in third place right off the bat. This prompted Brian to go into full strategy mode. He believed that I could do really well at this point. I was thinking that there was still a long way to go… three more stages to be exact, and that I shouldn’t get my hopes up yet. Day two brought with it two more stages. A circuit style road race and a 10 mile hill climb. Nothing too exciting during the road race unless you count Brian yelling at me form the side lines to sit in…I still had not truly learned or accepted the value of just sitting in and not working. It annoyed me to have a bunch of people surrounding me, so I would go to the front where I felt safer and in control… If you do that though, you can waste a lot of energy but you can also choose the pace. In hindsight I probably could have saved a bit of energy but I had fun so I count it as a successful stage. The hill climb was the one I was dreading. The lead I had from the day before could be gone in an instant if I couldn’t hang on this stage. I had realized by then that I was not a ‘climber’ by definition. It wasn’t as though I was bad at it or anything… it just wasn’t a natural gift like my descending abilities were. I was a wreck. Brian took me up the climb to have a look and I just broke down and cried. I somehow managed to pull it together and ended up having a fantastic ride. I come through the line fourth and held onto my overall spot. By the third day and final stage I was really ready for it to be over. It was so hot that day and everyone was feeling the pain. We had a 50 mile road race to complete before anyone could claim victory. Coming to the end of lap one, I was towards the front on the finishing climb and I decided that I was just going to go, break away, and see what happens. I took off down the descent. At the bottom there were 3 people with me…all the women who were within seconds of me and all who could take the lead. They would have to drop me to accomplish that though, and I was not going to let that happen. The last lap was brutal. Eating was torture and gagging became the norm. We ended up sticking together and it was a sprint to the finish. I came through second, but I new that I had done it. I had won….WON! I had just won a stage race. To date, this is one of the most special moments of my life.

Kern was an incredible race and it taught me a lot about the cycling scene in California. I learned that most everyone knows each other and have been racing together for some time. I learned that you can create rivals and life long friends in the course of a few days. And I learned that if you are a newbie and you do well people will notice and talk about you behind your back. Sometimes, it is all in good fun and competitive spirit and other times it is not. No matter what, you just have to hold your head up high and be the best person you can be. Because in the end, that is what you have to fall back on and that’s how people will come to know you.

My season was pretty much over after that. I had no other major races planned… except one. Just a little race called the Everest Challenge. It is a race that takes place here in the Eastern Sierras…my neck of the woods. Brian told me about it when I first started riding and get this…it sounded like fun…? The race is two days, 206 miles, with 29,035 feet of climbing. I have no explanation as to why I though it sounded fun other then I thought it would be cool to see if I could actually complete it. I didn’t count it as a “real” race…at least not for myself. I knew that people would actually be riding for places and times but my personal goal was to just cross the finish line. It was late in the season and I was over having to training by then. It took a lot for me to even feel remotely psyched for this race. And I started regretting telling people I was going to do it. When I was registering for the race I ended up staring at the page, having only to click enter, for a good hour. When I finally willed my finger to press down, I knew there was no going back. I was going to do it no matter what. My strategy going into this was race was, “you are not quitting unless you fall off your bike and can’t get up”. The first day, I got dropped by the pack right away and I was thinking “don’t they know how far they have to go”.., while it was a blow to my ego I knew I was going to have to ride this ‘race’ my way, and I had to let my negative feelings go. It was rugged. The whole day was just a roller coaster of emotion. And seven miles from the top I did not think I was going to be able to go any further. It was a turning point in the race. I convinced myself that I did not want to have to do this ever again and that if I didn’t finish I would probably have to do it again next year… I wish it was more grandiose then that, but that is exactly what I was thinking at the time and exactly what made me keep going. I ended up spending ten hours on the bike that day and I was actually looking forward to the second ‘stage’. That was until I actually got on my bike the next day… eww, ouch, and why!?!? was all that I could think. But the difference this day was that, as long as I could make it to the end, it would really be over. I slogged my way to the finish line seven hours later, and even managed to sprint across it. Then I promptly burst into tears, happy and relieved that it was over, and vowing that I would never to that again. *Side note: Those who push themselves to their limits will relate to me on this… time has a way of heeling all wounds and making you forget the pain. Cyclists often vow to never put themselves through that kind of pain again, especially after something like the Everest Challenge. Give it a few months and approach them again, they will have most likely changed their tune.

So my season was now officially over and I had time to reflect on just how remarkable this last year had been for me. I had become a different person in that time. I was stronger and happier. And I believed in myself more then I ever had in my life. I not only found my inner athlete but I also became a fiancé. What was truly remarkable is that this was only the beginning…

Alright! There you have it, my first season of racing. This brings us to this year. Not exactly current day, but we are getting there. Even though it is early in the season many exciting things have happened. Look forward to the next post and the final chapter of “A Brief History”… it will be up soon… :)

A Brief History...

Hey Everyone,

This is my first blog post…ever! I have always wanted to start a blog but just never got around to it. Obviously that is not the case anymore…woot! The purpose for this blog is to keep track of my adventures as a cyclist. There is so much that happens to you when you are a competitive athlete and I find that my brain becomes over loaded with stories and experiences and the best way for me to remember them all is to write them down. But this is not just for me. This is for the people who know and support me, as a way of keeping them informed and updated on my cycling. This is for those who don’t know me but are interested in reading about an exciting part of my life. Finally, this is for everyone who wants to know what it is like to be a normal person with big dreams… a person who has goals that require hard work and perseverance to achieve, a person who is trying to balance life, love, work, and a passion for racing. It can be done, I am living proof. So I invite anyone and everyone to take this journey with me. I can’t promise that will you always like what I have to say, but I can promise that I always be true to myself. I can’t promise that I am the best or most informed when it comes to this sport, but I can promise that I will share with you what I learn. I can’t promise that it is always going to be a smooth ride, but I can promise it will be an exciting one. So please, feel free to comment, laugh, cry, and yell! I welcome it all. Here is to the journey that starts right now…

Danielle and Biking: A Brief History Part 1,

I love to ride my bike. Let me just reiterate, I love to ride my bike. This whole thing has really been a whirl wind romance. And no one is more shocked then I. Cycling was first introduced to me in the summer of 2008. I had just moved to Bishop California where I was seeking peace and solace. I was licking fresh wounds left by a couple of soul crushing years in the Bay Area and I wanted nothing more then to climb rocks and breathe the fresh mountain air. What happened next was a series of events that would not only change my life for the better and help shape me as a woman, but also help me realize an inner strength I never knew I had.

Brian was my next door neighbor and the kindest most sincere person I had ever met. While I would love to tell the story of us (it is a great one), this is a cycling blog and I do not want to waver too much from that. He is highly relevant in this story though, because he is the person who not only helped me realize my love for cycling but he was also my first teacher, trainer, and mentor in this sport. My bike history before Brian is shoddy at best. I did not grow up always riding bikes or even liking them much. And if you had asked me even one day before I met Brian if I would ever consider racing a bike, I would have been really confused by the question. I hadn’t even ridden one in over a year. The first bike I ever owned as an adult was a really crappy, way too small for me, though I thought it was cool, purple Huffy that I got around on for a time in San Francisco until it was stolen from me outside the climbing gym. It was the first time I had felt a deep sense of loss towards a material possession before and it shocked me that I so upset. Like I said, I wasn’t that into biking or anything but it felt like a personal attack. Before Brian, I had no clue that you had to know how to change a tire or even own a pump for that matter. And I thought an Allen Wrench was something that IKEA had invented for putting together bedside tables and stuff. I am truly amazed when I think about my previous biking experience. I took that Huffy all over San Francisco even over the Golden Gate Bridge multiple times, and I never got a flat, EVER! I laugh out loud when I think about the absurd luckiness of that. Needless to say, it was a giant wake up call when I realized these machines require more then a little maintenance (which I also found out only deepens your intense love for them…more on that to come later).

The first time I walked into Brian’s work shed I was awe-struck by how many bikes he had. I thought it was actually a little superfluous and bizarre that someone would need so much of the same thing, (oh, how I sometimes I miss being that naïve). He let me take his CX bike out, and I remember that day like it was yesterday. That feeling of getting back on a bike after a long hiatus… it felt new, fun, and exciting, and while I wasn’t exactly hooked just yet, I new that this was somehow going to be a part of my future. I realized it was something that Brian and I could do together and that brought us closer as a couple. The first group road ride I ever went on was with our local bike shop (shout out to the peeps at Aerohead Cycles!). I rode the CX bike again, had my running shoes on, and was oblivious to the idea of a chamois. I remember being mesmerized by all of the initial clicking that happened after each complete stop. I actually felt a little smug, thinking I had the better system because all I had to do was step off the pedal. I wouldn’t be bothered or hindered by such restraints (oh, how I sometimes I miss being that naïve).

By the time a few months passed I was riding frequently and I had retracted my previous thoughts that clipless pedals were a hindrance. I was learning more and more about cycling as a sport and when I realized that people raced and competed on bikes, it wasn’t long before I wanted a road bike of my own. Since there was no way I was ever going to spend more then $500.00 on a bike (again! I sometimes I miss being that naïve), Brian found out about this local guy who sold used bikes and took me to take a look at them. The moment I saw her I knew it was love. The blue 1985 Steel Gios was coming home with me. While it was not a technically superior bike by any means, I loved everything about it…even the down tube shifters. The Gios taught me how to ride and helped me discover a passion for cycling that I never expected. It wasn’t long though, before I started to realize that while my bike was pretty, it was not efficient. And if I was going to race, (which I already decided I was going to) I would need something a little more…ready… i.e. lighter. That’s when I purchased the BMC Streetfire SSW, which over time took on the name Beauty. I will not compare these bikes because there is no way you can, at least in my mind. They were two bikes that came into my life at the perfect time and both took me to different places. The BMC though, marked the change in me from a bike rider to a bike racer and I haven’t looked back since…

So, here is the history of my cycling up to the point I started racing. I am finding that I can write and write and write so it is probably best to break it down into separate posts so that your eyes and my fingers can take a bit of a break. There is still so much more to get you caught up to present day. But fret not! I will leave no stone unturned on this journey. And I will make sure that we end up on the same page. See you back very soon!