Last Saturday I did the Red Clay Ramble. It was weird that it was my first race of 2020, so late in the year. I'm just glad to do any racing at all with the pandemic. Chainbuster Racing, which hosts the Red Clay Ramble, implemented several protocols to reduce risk of exposure, notably having staggered start times instead of the usual single, mass start.
Most of us probably felt a little nervous about the intensity of the race. Not only have there been few races this year, but we haven't been able to do hard group rides (great for training). I tried to calm my nerves a bit by reminding myself that we were all in the same boat. On the other hand, I felt pressure to do better than at last year's Red Clay Ramble. I didn't have a very good race last year because I was just coming off of a bad cold. At least I thought that was the reason...or maybe I just don't have the edge that I used to. Today's race would tell the tale.
This year's Red Clay Ramble had been postponed from June. Also, the organizers weren't able to secure the usual staging location, and so it was moved to Bradley Baptist Church. Apparently, God intended me to do this race.
Robert and I arrived well before the race. I loosened up by riding around nearby for a bit. It was a beautiful morning, and I told myself I could enjoy the day and being on my bike regardless of how I placed. As always, all I could do was my best.
Groups started every three minutes. My starting group included Masters men and women. These Masters men were 40-49 years old. Men also have Grand Masters (50-59) and Ultra Masters (60+). We women just have plain old Masters (40+). Guess I'll never get to be Grand or Ultra.
We were off! I was toward the front. A group of about half a dozen guys pulled ahead. I decided not to try to hang because I didn't want to start off too hard. I quickly got into a good groove and found myself near the front yet alone. When we turned off the pavement onto the first dirt road about three miles in, I was averaging 20 mph!
About a mile later, we turned onto Otis Redding Road. My friend and teammate Cody had cautioned Robert and me before the race about this turn. Cody rides the dirt roads near here regularly, and he said that there was a lot of pea gravel at this turn, and the best path was to the left. I was concentrating on Cody's advice as I made the turn, and then my chain came off! Bummer!
I moved to the right side of the road and got my chain back on as fast as I could. It took less than a minute, but several women passed me in that time. I decided not to dwell on the negatives - just get back in it as quickly as I could, ride steadily, and try to make up lost ground.
A few minutes later, I happen to look at my finger, and it was bleeding! I must have cut it on the chain when I got it back on the sprocket. It wasn't bad, and it didn't hurt. I said, "Uh huh," and went on.
A little more pavement/dirt/pavement, and then I was on Shoal Creek Road. It's unpaved and has several significant climbs. I was feeling strong, and I'm a good climber. Therefore, I attacked on the hills. I passed at least half a dozen riders, including several women. I was pretty sure I was out front for Masters women.
The next paved section was Hillsboro Lake Road/Turner Road, which I ride regularly. I tried to use my local knowledge to my advantage. A group of six or eight guys came up from behind. They must have been Grand Masters, which was the starting group after mine. I drafted their peloton for a mile or so. We turned onto Dumas Road (dirt), which started out pretty squirrely. I suspected it would be, so I gave myself some space. We got to the first big climb on Dumas, and I passed all the Grand Masters guys. I never saw them again.
Up Dumas Road toward Firetower Road. Usually, this would be the last few miles of the race. Today I was a little less than half way into the 53-mile race. I still felt strong as I pedaled along solo. In fact, I remember thinking, "This is fun! I get to ride my bike fast through the woods!"
I had been feeling as good as I can remember during a race, but I knew it couldn't last. About 2/3 into the race, I was still by myself. I was getting tired, and it was getting hotter. I knew I needed to keep my pace up as much as possible because this is where I could win or lose the race. Pedal, pedal, pedal. Then, lo and behold, Robert came up behind me. He had started behind me in the Grand Masters group. He pulled for much of the remaining distance, allowing me to draft and go faster than I would have alone.
I worked to hang on. At one point I told Robert, "This is starting to hurt." He encouraged me by reminding me that soon we'd be back on mostly pavement for the rest of the race, which would be easier.
He pulled until the last climb on North Cross Road, a few miles from the end. He had burned all the matches he had. Knowing I still had good climbing energy, he urged me to ride on without him and finish strong.
Pedal, pedal, pedal. Occasionally, I glanced over my shoulder to see if anyone was gaining on me. Nope. Pedal, pedal, pedal. One last turn by the railroad tracks. The pavement changed to dirt one last time so that we could finish on dirt. It wasn't quite a sprint, but I gave one last hard push to cross the finish line!
Sure enough, I won women's Masters!
In fact, I was the second woman overall. The first place woman in the Open category beat me by 1 minute, 15 seconds. I wonder if I would have been first overall if I hadn't dropped my chain? Or maybe she was first overall because she's less than half my age! Oh, well. I was thrilled that I had such a good race.
The best part, though, was getting to race with my helpmate/teammate. It was a highlight of my racing career.
helpmate [help-meyt] - noun
1. a companion and helper.
2. a spouse.
3. anything that aids or assists, especially regularly.
See Robert Jordan
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