Metamorphosis

Stage One - Sprint Points

The reason I never mentioned sprint points in the Tour of Bright is simple: Never before have I been there to contest the sprints! Rosewhite Gap, the first climb in Stage One, always sent me backwards and prevented me from being with the leading group.

This year, when after the lull of Kiawa Valley our leading group of ten approached the Tawonga grocery store and life came into our little bunch, I chased. Of course, I regretted the effort a few kilometres later on the ultimate climb of the day, Tawonga Gap, but I collected four points for second place and when the other girls caught up to us and I heard friendly teasing shouts from behind "Come on you sprinters. Get on with it!" I smiled. Who would have thought I am a sprinter? I guess the one-eyed is king amongst the blind so I can be a sprinter amongst climbers and just being mentioned in the green jersey competition was worth the fun.

Now, from memory Tawonga Gap is incredibly steep and long. Tough! A struggle! Really painful! Grinding! Slow!

They must have flattened the road a little since last year's tour. Already Rosewhite Gap had been kinda easy, and once again I found my rhythm and was actually making my way up. The really skinny girls were further up the road and went on with the business of climbing this 7.5 km but I kept two girls in sight.

I loved watching the other girls climbing, their cadence much higher than mine and somehow more effortless than me but I was actually climbing, too!

My legs hardly ever cramp and of all the things I had feared, considered and prepared for - crashing, bonking, dehydrating, giving up mentally - cramping hadn't even entered my mind but exactly that happened with three kilometres to the top of Tawonga Gap. I was able to keep pedalling but in great fear of the quads, hamstrings and calf muscles ceasing up completely. Even descending the other side my muscles kept contracting painfully and when two girls overtook me on the downhill I tried to jump on their wheels but all I could do was nurse my legs to the finish line, trying not to cause muscle damage and live to fight another day, or in this case another stage that was only a few hours away. I finished Stage One in tenth place.

Stage Two - Tough going

The best recovery techniques in the world wouldn't have helped with my lack of motivation in the afternoon. I can't even exactly describe this feeling of bone squashing soreness and nauseating tiredness and only my brain kept my listless body moving. Somehow I managed to shower, squeeze into compression tights, eat and drink, mount the time trial bars and change the wheels (I decided to race my Corima Aero wheels in the time trial rather than Alberto’s Zipp 303 that are better suited for climbing), everything in very slow motion, and then I lied on my bed unable to move and too exhausted to sleep. Forty minutes before my start and I needed to get moving - dress, get on my bike, warm up and race at threshold for about 30 minutes. The thought made me feel sick. I hadn’t recovered a bit.

I told Alberto that I couldn't do it. He shooed me into action, simply ignoring my complaints. My body and brain responded like it had done so many times at 4:30AM in the past couple of months and almost on auto-pilot I found myself on my bike.

There was also an additional saddle sore problem that made it almost impossible to sit down.

I saw Alberto’s disapproving face.

What a whiner, I thought to myself.

I knew I wasn't helping myself by putting up so much inner resistance.

I knew I had to step up and get out and race this damn time trial as hard as I could and that's what I did.

27:42 min and 8th place, 37 seconds faster than last year! I remained in 10th place in the general classification.

Stage Three - "You look like you're enjoying this"

There was a lot of talk about sprinting that night in our holiday apartment. Everybody had an opinion and advice on my race plan for the last stage but in one thing they all agreed: "Go for the Green Jersey!"

The big shed in Smoko (close by is also Freyburgh and Germantown) marked the first sprint and I was positioned perfectly. I saw the little yellow 500 m sign flying pass from the corner of my eye and I was winding, winding, winding ... and went ... too early. Sue won and thanked me later for the lead out. "I drink red" I yelled out to her when she passed me the next time in the rolling paceline but I don't think she heard me. With her two points for third place the previous day she was now sitting on eight points. I had eight kilometres to calculate that only a win in the last sprint could see me wearing the Green Jersey at the end of the day and only if Sue did not place in that sprint at all. Slim chances! Sue looked determined to fight and there was a long 30 km climb just about to start so reason won and I saved my legs. Sue went on to win the sprint in Harrietville, which I thought was an outstanding effort.

I went on to climb Mt Hotham. I thought I’d be nervous. I wasn’t. I thought I’d be one of the last girls to get up this beautiful mountain like last year. I wasn’t. The white-haired commissaire called out from his car window that I looked like I was enjoying this. I was.

I felt great. I loved every moment. I had my rhythm. I climbed.

The bunch had strung out as soon as the climb had started. Just as I had anticipated. I counted six girls ahead of me, an exhilarating thought to be seventh on the road. It didn’t matter that I lost sight of the leading girls before the first KOM at the MEG.

I started battling cramps again but strangely not even that worried me.

All that mattered was that I was climbing this mountain that inspired awe whenever I had mentioned the Tour of Bright to friends and colleagues and cyclists in the lead up.

And I loved it.

Some might think I didn’t go hard enough.

I caught up to the girl ahead of me - Erica, she introduced herself - and another girl, Beth, from the B-Grade bunch. Erica, Beth and I swapt turns and kept each other company to the National Park toll booths where the real fun began.

The steepening road didn’t hurt as much as I remembered from last year. Muscles were cramping but I managed by changing my pedalling style and if it wasn’t for the cramps I felt amazingly strong. I was conquering CRB Hill, that 10% monster within the climb and my speed merely dropped below ten kilometres per hour. Darn right, the most humiliating moment of last year’s race and here I thought to myself: “Bring it on. I’m not scared.”

The last two kilometres the road kicks up to a crescendo 9.2% and that was the only time I feared my legs would betray me and let me down by ceasing up completely and forcing me stop. I could pedal but I couldn’t put any more power out to accelerate. Erica slowly pulled away and I had to let her go. So strong before and now there was nothing I could do.

But not even that really bothered me. I was fascinated by the views and my metamorphosis into this new positive me and when I rolled over the finishing line I thought to myself “Maybe I will get the hang of this thing that is climbing.”

It took 2:42 hours, eleven minutes faster than last year. 7th place.

I hadn't dared to hope for a top ten finish. Truth is that I had lined up with no expectations at all. To finish in 8th place in the general classification is just an overwhelming result after the year I had and AMR and I started making plans for 2010 within hours of crossing that finishing line on top of Mt Hotham.

I deeply hope that AMR will toe the starting line with me then and with great expectations, too.

2009 Tour of Bright - Intro

Tonight I remembered a story in a cycling magazine that I read a while ago. The author, and I'm quoting very loosely here because I cannot remember, which magazine it was, wrote that 'it didn't matter what place you finish in a race but as what person you roll over the finish line'.

While I like the notion, I thought of it as a real 'looser statement'. Come on! "Sorry, I didn't win but I'm a much better person for trying". Of course you are, we are, everybody is! It's stating the obvious.

But.

We line up to win!

Alberto asked me on that long drive back from Bright to Melbourne what the most memorable moment was of this year's Tour of Bright. Crossing the finishing line on top of Mt Hotham, of course, was just as emotional as last year but there were a few experiences along the road that will stay with me for some time to come.

2009 has been a rollercoaster year and the 2009 Tour of Bright was some sort of culmination of great challenges and some unexpected achievements, extending past who I think I was and what I was able to do, and not just on the bike.

I didn't win and I don't know whether I'm a better person now but I stepped up and that's the most memorable thing about the past couple of days and maybe the past 12 months. 2009 wasn't a bad year at all and the 2009 Tour of Bright ... well, I'm still trying to find the words to describe this amazing experience.

This is it!

Sunday afternoon and I can hear fresh coffee brewing in the kitchen and a wonderful smell is starting to fill the house. I'm craving something sweet, something baked, a little treat to accompany the lazy Sunday afternoon. I checked the fridge and the pantry already, well aware that there is only a lone chocolate bar in the top shelf. Chocolate is not what I’m after. I feel like cake but I'm too tired to whip up some quick muffins. Blackberry jam on toast makes for a very unsatisfactory substitute.

The ride this morning hadn’t been very hard, just long, 93 km, and hot. The air has cooled a little since the early afternoon storm that brought some relief, some heavy drops of warm rain and a breeze. I opened up the house to get rid of the stinking hot air inside.

The house is in a bit of a mess, I dare to admit, since this weekend was too busy and hot for housework. Last night saw us getting all dressed up for the Queensland Cyclist of the Year Awards Night. It's not very often that we hit town on a Saturday night nowadays and I really enjoyed it, apart from that bit when I got pushed into the limelight. That was very uncomfortable.

I'm stoked to have been nominated Queensland Cyclist of the Year in my age group category together with Sheree McKenzie and Lisa Luskie, who won the award well deservedly. Congratulations to all the winners and to Cycling Queensland for giving us an opportunity to dress up, including sporting ridiculous tanlines in a little black dress.

Needless to say that it was tough this morning to get out of bed and meet Mark at Zupps, where a huge group of cyclists left at the usual time. We tagged along for the first twenty kilometres before veering off towards Dayboro and Mt Mee.

We weren’t the only one’s who had the idea and I was glad to see more riders taking the roundabout exit that takes you into Brisbane’s hilly hinterlands. At first happy to have some more wheels to follow, I soon dropped off, as they pushed a pace that wasn’t exactly “easy”.

My training program required “easy” and poor Mark rode next to me fidgety and keen. I could see that he was drawn to go with the faster group but he must have felt obliged to hang back with me. He refused to go ahead and meet me on top of Mt Mee. I suspect by then he had started to enjoy our leisurely pace and realised that not every ride has to be a race. He taught me a few valuable things along the way, about pacing up the rolling hills by maintaining a high cadence. It was fun spinning up those hills and I was surprised about the ease with which I climbed the 6 km up Mt Mee. Mark and I chatted the whole way and my heart rate barely touched 135 bpm. Of course we were slow but a few months ago there wasn’t such a thing as “comfortable climbing” even at crawling pace; all climbing was laborious and tiring if I didn’t want to roll backwards down the hill.

Even though I didn’t feel exactly great today and some doubts about my Mt Hotham readiness crept in, it was an enjoyable ride.

Ready or not - this is it. It's time to taper now.

Only five days till I will line up in Ovens, Victoria, for the start of the 2009 Tour of Bright. And what a coincidence to receive note from Jo Holdaway this morning. Jo illustrated the story I wrote for The Ride Journal last year, you might remember. A story about my love and hate for the Tour of Bright. Jo sent me a photo of her illustration blown up and printed on canvas for an exhibition in Bristol (UK). I recognised the big fat bumble bee straight away. It made me smile and I took it as a good omen. Maybe I should buy it so I can be reminded to believe in myself. Just like bees are not made to fly and do it anyway, I can ride up mountains.

Hugs for free

I'm proud to be German. Yes, a statement that often raises eyebrows because of Germany's history, but today I've got a good reason to be proud of Germany. They come up with good ideas. I read about this campaign "Kopf an, Motor aus!" (Head on, engine off!) that encouraged people to walk or ride their bikes for distances of six kilometers or less in order to reduce carbon emissions. In Dortmund they put this big poster up that says "A Big Thank You to all Dortmund cyclists".

In Australia a whole party is falling apart over emission trading right now. What a contrast!

I got home from the race this morning and I don't know if I'm just tired or I'm getting nervous because of Bright or because there was a crash in my race and I avoided coming down by the width of a tire but I learnt afterwards that a good friend was not so lucky and got hurt badly ... whatever it was ... I felt lousy when I got home. Overwhelmed and sad.

I remembered Dad's words and decided that I had no reason to feel so down. Amazing how you can choose your attitude. I never thought you can change your mood but I was wrong. I felt much better just for deciding to do so and getting on with things. Alberto had told me to treat today like race day and do exactly what I will do next week: ice the legs, shower, eat, put the legs up and get optimum recovery for the next stage.

After all that done, I caught up on some blogs and came across this little YouTube movie, also an initiative from Germany, and it was just what I needed. It cheered me up immensely.

The girl is offering free hugs ... but not to everybody. Watch it! It's very cute and if you read this blog, chances are, you are a cyclist or else qualify for a hug, too.



Stay safe and keep pedalling!

Count down - Two weeks to the Tour of Bright

Cycling is...

...when you keep pedalling anyway.

Spanner in the wheel but I only took my eyes of the goal for a second to evaluate the damage. Sore neck, loss of range of movement, more pain further down the back along the spine, some pins and needles in the neck area and shoulders, short dizzy spells and headaches. Google is very helpful for a quick self-diagnosis: sounds like a whiplash injury? Yes, I will go and see a doctor to confirm that there is no bone damage. Would just hate to be told that I can't race the Tour of Bright...

I was still too shaken to train on Friday morning and I didn't have the guts to race on Saturday as per my training program. I felt a little vulnerable on the road but got on the bike anyway and pushed going up Mt Nebo to test the legs and neck. My mind was tired from scanning every car, expecting drivers to come out of unexpected corners and seeing danger everywhere and my body was sore from the accident but I still followed up with a short 15 km time trial in the afternoon.

Today, I rested all morning and late in the afternoon, instead of attempting once again the steep Mt Glorious Rd and a long four hour training session, I went out for only two hours. I stuck with the equally steep but much shorter Clear Mountain and felt better than yesterday, even beat my personal best by five seconds on one of the little climbs on Eaton's Crossing.

It will all fall into place and come together in two week's time, I'm sure.