The
fabled offseason is theoretically the time of year when everyone takes a few
weeks (or longer) break from repeatedly turning their legs into mush day in and
day out. People catch up on tasks put on the backburner from months earlier,
spend time with friends and family instead of their two wheeled companion, and
purposely lose the necessary fitness in order to recharge the batteries to do
it all over again next year. For true subscribers, this means no riding
whatsoever. Even simply a leisure ride to the store brings back painful
memories of past interval sessions that are to be avoided at all costs. For others,
bikes are still very present in the offseason, but there’s none of the
intensity which existed throughout the year. Ride durations are minimized,
different disciplines are explored, and the coffee ride becomes much more
common. In any case, the offseason is an essential part of any training
schedule and is vital to quality performances in the future.
For
most, this time of the season involves putting the legs up, having that extra
bowl of ice cream, and not going outside in the freezing rain/snow to suffer
into an ever-present headwind. My ‘offseason’ was a bit unorthodox this year...
Rather than a relaxing time lounging on the couch, I spent two days living in
airports and cramped seats, then haphazardly trying to get my life back in
order and out of two boxes. Granted the whole travel thing forced me off the
bike for some time, and when there’s a twelve-hour time difference, everything
is a bit screwed up. It’s not exactly easy to get up and go bury myself when my
internal body clock is telling me “bedtime” during early afternoon, and it’s
quite dark at three in the morning when I’m fired up and ready to go. Luckily,
I quickly adjusted to the difference by drinking way too much caffeine
throughout the day and forcing sleep during the night (which was sometimes made
even harder from the aforementioned caffeine). But as every true cycling addict
can relate, by the time two easy-pedal weeks in New Zealand wound down, I had
already begun to go a touch crazy from lack of breathing hard and was keen to
get back to putting the legs to good use.
Like any
good mountain biker, one of the first things I did to settle into my new home
was buy a road bike. I mean, training on the road is necessary to pedal fast on
dirt… and I’m not going to wear down my only set of tires on asphalt, right?
Besides, commuting to work would be way easier; runs to the grocery store would
be quicker, and the ice cream wouldn’t melt. These were some of the excuses I gave
myself to legitimize the purchase of a stupidly light road bike. All said and
done, the real reason was probably that I wanted to go for the KOM on the
beyond-category climb on my doorstep.
The Ruapehu mountain road winds its
way for about 20 kilometers (I’ve had to convert… you’re going to suffer with
me) through Tongariro National Park and finishes at the carpark for Turoa ski
resort. Someone told me it had a similar profile to Alpe d’Huez, and I’m not
really going to check the accuracy of this statement because the thought gives
me a few extra watts when things get steep. And do they ever get steep. Clocking
out with a total of 1000 meters (ha more metric; reach for your converters)
from bottom to top, and 500 of those happen within the last 5 kms. Remember
that it’s 20 total kilometers… and half the vertical occurs at the very top. Needless
to say it gets hard, especially after 40 previous minutes of threshold effort.
Now
would be a good time to point out how my shiny new road bike has road gearing.
This means that it’s meant to go fast on flat ground with big chainrings in the
front, and a compact cassette in the rear. Without going into the boring
technical aspects of gear ratios, here’s the overarching point: when things get
steep, pedaling becomes REALLY hard. Luckily, I’ve got backyard access to +15%
grades and a general propensity to repeated suffering.
 |
| Mt. Ruapehu from the Turoa carpark |
My first
attempt at the Ruapehu mountain road basically ended with me almost giving up
and haphazardly swerving by the time I reached the top. From then it was only a
terrifyingly fast descent with semi-frozen toes and fingers. (I had forgotten
things usually get cold at 2000 meters above sea level.) Since then I’ve
struggled up the steep gradients again and again, continually forgetting the
pain which awaits me. Even after the short time I’ve been here, this climb and
mountain have found a special place in my heart; not only because it has the ability
to me feel incredibly small, but also because it gives me the opportunity to push
myself and suffer for the process of improvement.
Prior to
flying over the Pacific, naturally I scanned the internet for races around the
North Island. Without really thinking about the timing or details of the
events, I put as many down on the calendar as I could find. Just about the
first thing that comes up when you Google
‘bike event north island New Zealand is the Taupo Cycling Challenge. This
one of a kind event is a gathering of all the bike tribes, with offerings of
all difficulties for both road and mountain disciplines. And since Taupo is
only 90 minutes away from where I’m living, I automatically signed up for the
hardest mtb category… no matter that it’s 82 kilometers (50 miles) long, has
upwards of 2000 meters of climbing, and is basically all on singletrack. Sounds
like a great idea for someone coming off the stress of an entire racing season,
batteries still recharging, and decreased fitness levels, right? At least that
was my thought, or better put lack thereof. So now we can add training for an
extremely challenging event into the offseason routine. Actually, by now I
think it’s relatively safe to say we’re done with the offseason…
After
realizing I only had about two and a half weeks to prepare for what was quite
possibly one of the hardest races I’ve competed in this year, it was time to do
a bit of rapid-fire training. That meant a few things: time in the saddle,
vertical, some sprinting, and a quick dusting off of the mountain bike skills.
Luckily, I had a mountain in my backyard and some in-your-face/physically
demanding trails out the front door. Once the first ten days were complete, I
was quite relieved that my house didn’t have any stairs. A bit of recovery and
final tuning of the body then before I knew it the race was only a couple days
away, and all of a sudden it was go time.
 |
| Picturesque Lake Taupo |
Turns
out Taupo is a little slice from my dreams. A gigantic picturesque lake
surrounded by lush mountains and seemingly every outdoor activity known to man.
The town was overrun by cyclists of all kinds there for the Challenge event,
and in every direction, there were bikes: bikes on the road, outside cafes, on
cars, you name it. Instead of being inspiring, it instead brought up the
inevitable butterflies and nerves which accompany event weekends. As I settled
down for a cozy sleep in the back of the car it took all my willpower to keep
the doubts and concerns from creeping in and stealing absolutely all my sleep
away. The nagging thoughts are only allowed a few minutes per night.
I awoke
to a cold morning with a light drizzle in the air; the sky threatening more precipitation.
After a larger-than-normal breakfast I kitted up and rode the short distance to
downtown Taupo and the race start. There was an air of nervous excitement
surrounding the city in the pre-dawn glow, as everyone did their best to hide
the ever-present race day doubts. Now was not the time for second guessing; now
was the time to trust the process and put the best effort on the line. No matter
the weather or competition, everyone would be racing only themselves and the
clock out there. I rolled up to the mountain bike start line, currently sitting
in the second wave scheduled to take off one minute behind everyone up front.
Doing everything possible to keep my heartrate in the double digits I focused
on breathing, noticing the physical sensations around me, and full-on trying to
get the whole meditative state going… to variable success.
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| Mountain bike parade |
“GO!”
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