How Not to Prepare for a Stage Race

How not to prepare for a stage race

               Step one, become a sponsored professional athlete and have all your needs and worries taken care of. Since this isn’t the most easily attainable goal for most of us, here’s one privateer’s take on some pre-race preparations… specifically the preparations NOT to do.

               As everyone know, the key to a quality performance is preparation. Preparations through course-specific training, adequate rest, having the bike dialed, and race logistics all thought out. For this year’s Missoula ProXCT I had… well I had none of those boxes checked. Actually I was probably on the complete opposite end of the spectrum. I had just come from New Zealand (basically sea level), was sleeping an average of 4-5 hours a night, completely changes my entire bike setup the morning before stage one, and essentially only had a one-way plane ticket. Race prep can be summed up in one word: dialed.

               Let’s back up a bit. Missoula has always been one of my favorite cities, and the ProXCT that takes place there every year is an event I always try and make it to. It combines everything I love about this sport: good friends, beautiful tracks, heaps of elevation gain with grin-inducing descents, and highly unstable weather. Best of all the post-race celebrations always include ice cream or beer… or both. As an added cherry on top this year the event had become a four-day stage race, consisting of a marathon event, individual mtb time trial, xco event, and short track. So, with my being back in the US this past June, it was a necessity to get to this one.

               By the time race week rolled around I had a few Midwestern WORS races under my belt, so the second part of my 2019 season was at a good time for a good size training block. As the general fitness was still recovering from the post-NZ break, I wasn’t expecting any spectacular results, but four solid days of racing in the Montana Rockies was just what the doctor ordered. With that mindset I jumped online and found the cheapest ticket to Missoula… arriving midnight the morning of stage one. Here’s a quick rundown of what my travel day schedule consisted of:

·        Wake up at 4:30

·        Put a brand new groupset on my bike

·        Put my bike in a box (big shoutout to Orucase on this one… best bike bag in the world)

·        Go to work at 5:30

·        Caffeinate my way through work

·        Drive straight from work to the airport

·        Get on a plane to Denver

·        Get on a plane to Missoula

·        Arrive in Missoula around midnight

·        Go to the Westenfelder’s house (you guys are absolutely incredible)

·        Build my bike

·        Set alarm for 5 am

·        Go to bed

Ideal, right? Long story short, when that five am alarm sounded I was far from fresh, and after guzzling a few cups of coffee, forcing down some oatmeal and eggs, and blinking the sleep from my eyes really nothing changed. Luckily I have the best friends in the world, and was able to use Karl’s spare car to meander to the start line that morning. Waiting for me that day was forty miles and ten thousand feet of climbing. Exactly what you want on no sleep, travel-fatigued legs, and basically a brand new bike. Putting the task ahead out of my mind I started warming up. With ten minutes to race start I had one more sprint interval; I got out of the saddle, jumped on the pedals, and SNAP! Here’s another pro tip: one way to get your heartrate up right before a race is to break your chain with less-than-optimal-time to replace it. Lady luck decided to be a bit nicer to me for once, and someone next to me happened to have a spare masterlink in their toolbox. Promising a beer on me I hopped on and lined up. This race was never destined to result in much of anything, but man did the legs not want to show up. At least the whole Missoula cycling scene showed up to cheer, and somehow I still counted as the “local guy.” Even though I was nowhere near the sharp end of the race, every time through the start/finish I got a huge cheer and personal callout from Shaun, the race announcer. This was just enough to help fuel me through the inevitable bonk and resulting explosion. By the time I crossed the finish line there was absolutely nothing left in the tank. But… I was getting exactly what I asked for: a nice hard training block. Just wish the block wasn’t made of lead… and hit me in the face, repeatedly.

        Thankfully the rest of the week was relatively uneventful in the way of mishaps. The time trial was essentially a twentyish minute climb up the dreaded Marshall Mountain ski hill, where after actually sleeping a respectable amount I was able to put down a decent time, landing me closer to the top of the overall. The next day brought about the regular XCO event; a classic mountain bike course which goes straight up, then straight down. Six laps of this was enough to bring even the most masochistic climber to tears. In classic Montana fashion, the skies decided to open up and someone turned the thermostat way down. Freezing on the start line was quickly replaced by sweating up the climb, then proceeding to re-freeze on the way down. Even with the adverse weather conditions, the local Missoula crew all showed up and yet again provided this “local” with heaps of much welcome support. Finding a second wind with two laps to go I was able to pull back a couple places, and came across the finish line somewhere in the top half. Feeling like an exhausted icicle I sat in front of the heater eating another bowl of pesto pasta at eleven at night, attempting to force all the caffeine out of my system.

        One more race, my personal nemesis… the short track. Thirty minutes of vomit-inducing effort doing everything I can to hold whatever wheel happens to be in front of me. Well I wasn’t pulled, and that was basically the main goal regarding the caliber of racers. ‘Holding off’ the fastest in the country was my own personal victory; by holding off I mean somehow struggling to finish each two-minute lap within 80% of the leader’s time. Crossing the line completely and utterly spent it was straight to Sweet Peaks ice cream, where the success of non-disaster was celebrated wholeheartedly.

        Now it was time for a twenty-hour car ride back to Wisconsin and work the next morning. Yeah… poor planning from beginning to end. Just my style.

Catch-Up Time

               Ok, so where’d we leave off? Right; little island in the middle of the lower Pacific Ocean, riding bikes and loving life in Aotearoa. Last race I had up here was the skinny-tire event up in Clevedon, pretending I knew what I was doing… which I most decidedly did not. Well after that event, things continued as normal; work, train, enjoy small-town Ohakune. We’ll keep the bullet point thing going with a recap and catch-up-to-speed.

·        Did more race things in NZ.

·        Won a few

·        Came second in a few

·        Lost a few

·        Completely blew up in a few

·        Trained a lot

·        Ate a lot of food

·        Ate a lot of ice cream

·        It started to get cold…

·        Visa ran out, went back to Wisconsin

·        Til next time NZ. I’ll be back

Alright, so now we reach my time back in the good ol’ US of A, the home of Costco, and where the average population doesn’t know where New Zealand is. Semi-broke and without much more than the contents of a backpack to my name, it was back to living with grandparents again. Lazy days at the lake were soon cut short by the inevitability of getting back to work. Hurrah for six a.m. starts and a general feeling of exhaustion everyday.

I’m sure the whole lack of sleep thing wasn’t doing wonders for training, but nonetheless it was right back to summer, and racing in 100% humidity was in full swing. When living in Wisconsin, attending a few WORS events is mandatory, and it was real good to get back to the series which got me into this sport. Mixed results ensued, with me dancing around the podium steps and feeling the steady progression of 2019 season-part two. Somewhere around the middle of June I made the annual trek out to Montana, but this time it wasn’t to go back to university (phew), but for the four-day Missoula XC stage race.  (Full report on the stories from this trip to come… there are some gems which came out of this one. Stay tuned.)

 Don’t get me wrong… I absolutely love my grandparents as well as time at the lakehouse, but being twenty-three years old in a town where the majority of the population has their AARP card… well needless to say I was going a bit crazy within a few weeks. Feeling antsy and ready for a change of scenery, I restarted the US job hunt, scouring Indeed and LinkedIn for anything where my obscure major may be an advantage. After yet another bout of un-answered applications it was back to putting off real life for a bit. Got a job offer wrenching for a bike shop in Bellingham, and following a quick Google search of the world-class trails, beautiful scenery, and easy-access to the ocean it was an easy choice. Finishing out my time in the Midwest with a great visit, and one final WORS race weekend, it was time to pack everything up in the back of the VW Golf and head west. You know you’re doing something right when almost everything you own (including two bicycles, a longboard, and more peanut butter than one should rightfully have) can fit snugly into the back of a two-door hatchback.

Following a characteristically hectic departure, it was off to the open road. The plan was to take four days to make it to Bellingham, staying with friends along the way and eventually meeting my mom in Seattle for the final leg. The next part is pretty boring, filled with lots of podcasts, many albums, one runaway skid plate, countless snacks, and two lost water bottles. After thirty-ish hours of driving and two-thousand miles we pulled into Bellingham, a university-town with a northwest hippy vibe and a large population of flannel shirts. Well, this was home… even if I had nowhere to live, knew absolutely no one, and was still recovering from time-zone shock. I had a couple bikes, a whole new world to explore, and even some peanut butter left.

…To be continued…