Day 3: Cascade Lakes Road Race

Stage 1 of the Cascade Classic is a road race that starts and finishes at the West Village ski resort on Mt. Bachelor. Picture this: Your straddling a road bike in a parking lot with 85 other dudes in 90+ degree heat a 6,300ft above sea level, slamming a 24oz water bottle before you start racing said bike for the next 70 miles around the base of the mountain and a nearby lake or two. Sweaty picture, no? I knew hydration was key, so I took 3 bottles with me- one in a jersey pocket and two on the bike. I didn't know jacking your heart rate up at altitude will mess a dude up, hydrated or not. My job in this stage was to stay up front and follow anyone that wanted to join or start a breakaway. This would give our climber, Max O'Neal, a perfect opportunity to not do anything the whole race, that is until the pack reached the final climb up Mt. Bachelor where he could use his uphill strength to smoke fools to the finish line.  

The idea being if I get into a move that gets up the road with a few others from different teams, the teams left over in the pack who don't have a man in the breakaway will worry that their shot at victory is over so they'll have to work together to chase us down. If a team has a man in the break, they get to sit pretty and let everyone else do the pace-making until they reel them back. Now they're fresh and the team that wasn't represented is tired, and has lost their shot at challenging or matching a final acceleration to the finish line. 

Neutral rollout began as we cruised behind the lead car for the 3,000ft descent down the volcano at 54mph. After about 3 miles the race is on, and the accelerations begin. I spent the first half of the race responding to counterattacks that Brian Hitchcock (HSP captain for the weekend) was instigating. He definitely help set the aggressive tone, so now it was my job to just flow with it. After many attempts, I sat in around 5th wheel or so to recover since it appeared that nobody was ready to let anything go. About 3k before the first feed zone one guy from Audi got away- 1 man is no threat but a few more could be. About 1k before the feed zone, Thorsten informs me that Hitch snapped his chain! FUCK. This put us on alert, so we had to make sure nobody got away without us to allow him to chase back on after the neutral service vehicle fixed him up.

Naturally, while Thorsten and I were moving up to the front, 3 guys separately attacked to bridge up to our lone ranger. This was bad- not in the move, AND we have to pick up the pace to bring them back while Hitch is trying to catch back on. I spent the next 25 miles or so chasing and trying to follow bridge attempts. Unfortunately, for me, I didn't sit in early enough to recover and let everyone else do the chasing, which led to some massive fatigue. We were just getting out of the windy stretch of the course before the final climb when I experienced something I've only heard stories about- double leg cramp. From calves to ass, my muscles began to seize and convulse out of nowhere! One minute I'm at the rear of the pack chatting with my one of our travel buddies, Nate Pitts, eating, drinking to prepare for the hard climb approaching, the next minute I'm whining like a little girl, squeezing my hamstrings as I just coast right off the back of the group. I can't pedal at all. My legs literally wont fucking move and all I want to do is pass out from the pain. I drank 6 water bottles - WHAT THE FUCK?! WHY?

After declining a ride to the finish line by multiple cars (if you dont ride in, you forfeit the race) I was able to dismount and try to stretch my legs. I had to soft pedal for about 50ft just so my legs wouldn't stop working again. Luckily for me there were other bodies up the road, pulled over for some reason, which meant I wouldn't have to ride the final 15 miles or so by myself. The race was now long gone, and my chances at putting myself even close to a GC position were over. All I could do was finish and play domestique (workhorse) for the team. I caught up to the first guy up the road, who also had cramped (for the first time ever) and we road together as we approached the next victim. I told him my teammate, Thorsten, has often cramped up in the past which I assumed was just from not drinking enough water and now I get it. Water wasn't the issue, I really think it was over-exertion. We get up to the next guy just getting back on his bike- it's Thorsten! Speak of the devil. He didn't cramp this time, he got some altitude/heat exhaustion and started puking so he had to pull over until his body was done purging. We were both physically fucked. After playing cat and mouse with other dropped riders up the road, we ultimately road to the finish line together. A Coca Cola from the Illegal feed zone (these are offerings from candy, beer to water or whiskey that fans put on) on the climb may or may not have been taken to save us from passing out.

We finished 17 minutes behind the leader that day. Bummer, but there's still lots of racing to be had.