Saturday September 18th, 2010
The 49th Mt Tam Hill Climb
My introduction to cycling came as a way to maintain my cardio while nursing a running injury during marathon training. I borrowed a friend's ill-fitting road bike to see if it was something I could envision myself doing. As a daily cycling commuter I was no stranger to bikes, but had never ridden anything with drop handlebars. I choose to take the plunge and buy a new bike based on my initial reaction to cycling as a cross training exercise, which would give my legs a break from the abuses of running.
After owning my road bike a couple years and using it as a means to train for running races, it seemed natural to wonder about actually entering a cycling race. I had gained confidence keeping up with the advanced riders at OYJ rides. Completing the Grizzly Peak Century in the spring helped break my mental barrier regarding longer rides. While there are local crits, I've still never ridden fast on a short course. If I was going to try racing I wanted it to be similar to my road cycling experiences and skills. Upon learning of the Mt Tam Hill Climb, I thought it sounded perfect—besides I've always liked climbs.
Saturday 6:30am began with the alarm on my phone reminding me that I needed to get up. Looking out my bedroom window towards Mt Tam, all I could see were clouds and fog. The entire city was blanketed. I didn’t have to bother with sunglasses and sunscreen.
With the bike loaded and directions in hand I began feeling my way through the fog to Stinson Beach for the start of the race. While the visibility was horrible the traffic was light and I arrived in an hour after leaving Lake Merritt near Fairy Land.
As I pulled into the dirt parking lot I saw dozen of cyclists already atop trainers or rollers warming up; I got a little nervous. I didn't own a trainer and still hadn't checked in. Not belonging to a team, I had to learn on my own and hopefully ask some of the right questions about where to go and what to do.
I grabbed my ID and headed to the check in tables to get my bib. After waiting ten minutes in the men's cat 5 line—which was easily the longest line—I finally reached the front and was asked for my racing license. I had purchased a single day license along with my race fee, but had no print out to convince them. They asked if I had an iPhone. I didn't and my Blackberry was in the car. With no other options I retreated back to the car to find my phone and my confirmation email.
Upon showing them my confirmation email on my phone's tiny screen, I was given my bib. Things were starting to happen. The 9am first wave of riders were warmed up and gathering at the staging area. I was eager to watch but needed to pin my number on and get moving myself.
Lacking a trainer I headed back up the roads I came in on. Meanwhile the drizzle seemed to be increasing versus drying up as forecast. On the descent back to town my glasses became coated with drops—and my visibility dropped even further! I got a little over 20 minutes of cycling in before I opted to return and make one last pit stop at the beach's public facilities. At least I didn’t have to deal with porta-potty lines!
I had been watching the other riders and most were not using arm warmers and most had ditched their jackets before reaching the starting line. I was warm and parroted their choices as I went to the line with the rest of the Cat 5 spillover group—5B. There were only 13 of us in this group, which gave me some comfort that I wouldn't have to jockey along Hwy 1 in a pack of 50 while hitting the cattle guard.
After receiving our race instructions, we were off. Immediately a car to our left in a driveway turned left in front of the pack. We slowed and cursed it but before we could even finish our angry protests it turned left again and exited the road way. Why couldn't it have waited 15 sec until we cleared the road to drive one block??
Our group fell into a paceline after the initial two abreast approach. Perhaps the car had convinced folks to keep to the right side of the road. About four of us rotated off the front taking short pulls before we reached the cattle crossing. It appeared those on the front didn’t want to drop back in the paceline beyond the third spot.
The pack splintered as soon as we hit the grates. Four maintained the brisk pace we had going in and charged upwards into the drizzle and fog. The next group of three of us didn't form a line and attempt to pull each other up. Instead we seemed more interested in the front four than each other, even though we perhaps needed each other to stay in contention. When the front group vanished we now wondered who would be in fifth. None of us looked interested in jumping the gap to the front group. We just pushed onwards each riding our own race.
At a sharp inside turn the guy in front of me, popped out of the saddle, slowed down and grinded through the rest of the turn. I went around wide but stayed seated and maintained my high cadence while cruising past him. Now I was in front of our three-man group. My heart rate had been hovering around 180 while on the flat sprint and now was in the high 180s; I was concerned. I knew I could hold that on Tunnel Road but that is only half the elevation gain as what I was in the midst of. I listened behind me for clues to the other riders' positions. Very close.
I tried to relax and maintain my rhythm. My breathing and heart rate seemed stable without being overly strained. I decided I could likely maintain this pace all way the up without the risk of popping. I had been up Mt Tam in the past but never from this side. I'd studied photos of the route and the elevation profile online. Sadly there were few references in the fog to determine my position. All I had was my mileage to tell me where I was.
For the next 15 minutes the fog shrouded climbing continued. I eventually couldn't hear the person on my wheel. I wasn't certain where he was dropped, but was thankful to know I wasn't about to get passed. Still, this wasn’t a time to relax.
I came upon some masters from the wave in front of us followed by some women in the group in front of them. What a relief! I wasn't the slowest and in fact had caught up to others.
I wasn't certain where to expect it, but suddenly I was off the main climb and onto the final third part of the race: the Seven Sisters. These rollers which I had ridden only once before were covered in mist and the amount of gain on each hill was impossible to gauge. I pushed on.
I switched my cycling computer to display mileage to determine how much further I expected the finish to be. At a little over 2 miles to go, two guys flew past me. Thankfully they weren't in my category. The rolling Seven Sisters continued.
When I saw the 100m sign I knew I should have been pushing the last mile harder. Another guy sprinted past me as I was approaching the line. I looked down at my watch—less than 53 minutes. Not bad. Not amazing. From past race results I expected the cat 5 leaders to have finished around 46-48 minutes. Anything under an hour seemed respectable.
I chatted with a few others at the finish line and then a group of us began the chilly wet descent back to the parking lot at Stinson, happy to know that the hard part was over. Somewhere back in town was a latte with my name on it and somewhere perhaps next season is another cycling race.
RESULTS: