Article I wrote for 3/GO magazine.
Going Pro
What prompts amateur triathletes to transition to the professional ranks? How does this change their approach to training and racing? Jordan Blanco caught up with a handful of women that have taken the leap and applied for a “USAT professional license” for the 2012 season. She also caught up with two relatively new pros, Meredith Kessler and Caroline Gregory, to hear their advice for new professionals.
In the 2011 season, Sarah Piampiano, Kim Schwabenbauer, Beth Shutt, Jessica Smith and Beth Walsh not only dominated the W30-34 category in Ironman and 70.3 racing, taking age-group wins whenever they toed the line, but they also dominated the overall amateur races. They collected 5 Ironman and 8 Ironman 70.3 amateur titles in total. The season culminated with Jessica Smith winning the overall amateur women’s title at the Ironman 70.3 World Championships in Las Vegas and Sarah Piampiano scoring a 4th place in W30-34 and finishing as the top American amateur female at the Ironman World Championships in Hawaii.
There were probably a few North American age-groupers in the W30-34 category that breathed a sigh of relief when after the Ironman World Championships race in Hawaii these top female competitors announced via Twitter and posted on their blogs that in 2012 they would be “Going Pro”.
When asked why they had made the decision to relinquish their amateur status, it is clear that all five athletes are excited by the new risks and challenges that professional racing presents. As Schwabenbauer, explains: “After winning two amateur titles at the Ironman distance, I had a feeling with some more training I may be able to improve my times, and although it might be a tough process to get on the pro podium, I’m willing to put in the time and take the risk.” Smith also saw “going pro” as the next step in a series of challenges she had set for herself: “I’m always setting new goals and looking for a new challenge. When I started in triathlon my goal was to finish an Ironman. Then it was to qualify for Kona. After that I realized maybe I could race as a pro. Now I want to win as a pro.”
Among our group of new pros, Piampiano is perhaps taking the greatest risk, leaving an investment banking job in New York to relocate to Santa Monica, California, to train and race full-time. “Such a small percentage of people in the world are afforded the opportunity and have the ability to be a professional athlete. It is a real honor and privilege. The chance to chase a childhood dream has been put in front of me, and for me to walk away from that I feel would be a mistake.”
The path to becoming a professional triathlete varies greatly among the group. Shutt found solace in swimming and biking while nursing running injuries before finally stringing the three sports together in a triathlon. Coincidentally, Schwabenbauer also came to triathlon from running, at the suggestion of fellow new pro, Shutt. Schwabenbauer recounts: “Beth Shutt, a good friend and fellow Penn State Cross-Country teammate, had shared with me that she had begun doing triathlons the previous year and really enjoyed the three sport disciplines vs. just being a runner. On a work trip to the Big Island, I saw the sign for the Ironman World Championship starting line and I said to my husband, “I’m going to do that race one day!””
At the other end of the spectrum, both Walsh and Piampiano had a bumpier ride to their current professional athlete status. While Walsh may have been athletic in high school, as she puts it: “College was a different story. I was on a strict training regimen of beer, Wendy’s, and half a pack of cigarettes a day. I used to heckle the girls in my dorm for working out and didn’t comprehend why anyone would do that. I slept past noon at least 3 days per week. I may or may not have gained the “Freshman 15”. I never in a million years imagined I would become a pro triathlete at age 31.” Things have clearly changed since her college days as Walsh ran the fastest female amateur marathon of 3 hours and 10 minutes at the Ironman World Championships in 2010.
Piampiano was a two-sport athlete in college, skiing Division 1 and ranking nationally as a cross-country runner. However, as she graduated and transitioned to the working world, her participation in sport fell by the wayside, succumbing to the long hours, unhealthy lifestyle and pressure of her Wall Street career: “My start to triathlon was a bit of a fluke, to say the least. In late 2009 my friend and I bet whether I could beat him in an Olympic distance race. He had been training for months and at the time I was smoking a pack+ of cigarettes a day and drinking like a fish. On race day I showed up on a bike my brother had bought in France 20 years ago for $200 and raced my heart out. I beat my friend, but more importantly I loved every second of the experience. I quit smoking on the spot and the rest is history!”
Racing as a professional affords these new pros much greater flexibility in planning their racing seasons, no longer having to sign up a year in advance and saving money on Ironman and 70.3 race entries since The World Triathlon Corporation (organizing body for M-dot branded Ironman and Ironman 70.3 races) charges a flat rate of $750 to each professional triathlete, regardless the number of races entered. These athletes are also happy that they will no longer be contending with the mass swim start of the amateur race. As Walsh colorfully puts it: “I won’t miss the trepidation that comes before an Ironman mass swim start where you know you are about to get clocked by 2000 of your closest friends.” Even the strongest swimmer of the group, Smith, is happy to no longer battle with thousands of others in the swim: “Goodbye 2,000 people kicking and hitting each other while desperately searching for clear water. Swimming might be one of my strengths, but it is still my least favorite part of the race.”
The new pros have been doing their homework to understand the different racing dynamics they’ll face this coming season. Shutt notes: “I talked with a few current pros to ask what they thought were the main differences of competing as a pro and most all said that the racing is tougher in the sense that you spend much more time on your own. I think it will also be a challenge to learn how to really push yourself even if you aren’t winning or competing for a Kona slot.” Walsh admits to a little fear: “I’m scared of swimming and biking alone in no man’s land for an entire Ironman. I tend to fall into a daze on the bike if I’m not around others who are pushing and motivating me. I may be doing lots of talking to myself and finding that “inner” strength.”
Their concern is not misplaced. Caroline Gregory just completed her first season as a pro triathlete and agreed with this view: “The pro race is so different from the age group race. As a pro you are often completely alone out on the race course. You have to believe in your training, and find the motivation from within.”
November’s Ironman Arizona was Smith’s pro debut. The day before the race, she caught up with Meredith Kessler, a triathlete entering her 3rd season in the professional field. Kessler shared some specific swim tips and friendly strategies: “The first 500 yards will be really fast. I’ll look to get in a pack with Leanda [Cave] and we’ll swim 5-7mins really hard to separate ourselves before dialing it back. Get on our feet at the start.” Smith acknowledges the change in pace and rhythm that the pro race implies: “I think racing as a pro will be challenging because the race will always begin when the gun goes off. At any point I will have to be ready to swim, ride, or run outside of my comfort zone to stay in [the race]... there is a lot more strategy involved at this level and I still have a lot to learn!”
Will our new pros miss anything about amateur racing over professional racing? We asked our pros for their thoughts. Kessler confessed that she missed some of the simplicity of racing as an amateur, but neither she nor Gregory hesitates to state that they love racing as professionals. In fact, they both acknowledge that it has helped to lift their game.
Kessler: “The bar is being raised in the sport on both the professional and amateur levels. Breaking 10 hours in the amateur ranks… is becoming the norm for many, which is just incredible! Especially, because amateurs typically do triathlon as a hobby on top of their already busy lifestyles. On the professional level, breaking 9 hours is now the new “black!” The sport of triathlon is making huge waves. Chrissie Wellington, among others, has raised the level of women's triathlon. The rest of us are working hard to be able to compete truthfully with athletes of her caliber.”
Gregory: “[Racing as a professional] is the opportunity to race amongst the best athletes in our sport, the opportunity to represent sponsors and brands to the rest of the endurance sport community, the opportunity to reach within and see what you’re really made of, and the opportunity to be a positive role model.”
Want to hear more about these women as they train and race in 2012? Check out their websites and follow them on twitter… and most of all, look out for them at the races! Website Twitter handle
Caroline Gregory www.carolinegregory.blogspot.com @ckgregory
Meredith Kessler www.meredithkessler.com @mbkessler
Sarah Piampiano www.sarahpiampiano.com @SarahPiampiano
Kim Schwabenbauer www.fuelyourpassiononline.blogspot.com @fuelyourpassion
Beth Shutt www.thetrialofmilesmilesoftrials.blogspot.com @bethshutt
Jessica Smith www.jesssmithtriathlete.blogspot.com @ jesssmithtri
Beth Walsh www.bethwalshracing.com @IMBethWalsh
Meredith Kessler’s five words of wisdom to keep our new pros centered as they challenge themselves in 2012:
BELIEVE… that you have what it takes to compete with the very best.
LIMITLESS… answers are limitless, find the answers you need in order to prevail.
GUMPTION… you might fall but it’s how you get up that counts and that takes gumption.
SIMPLICITY… keep it simple while figuring out what works best for you.
RESILIENCE… the body is resilient so your head needs to be too!
Thursday, February 09, 2012
Tuesday, February 07, 2012
Keep the Ocean on your Right: The Coast Ride
There’s no more iconic starting point to an epic adventure than the Golden Gate Bridge. Riding my bike 370 miles from San Francisco’s Golden Gate Bridge to downtown Santa Barbara in three days counts as epic in my world. This is The Coast Ride.
The Ride was scheduled over a three day weekend, taking advantage of the Martin Luther King holiday to be absent from my job as an investment manager without taking a vacation day. On Saturday morning, my husband Rich, a couple of overnight guests who had traveled from San Diego and I caravanned to the Ride’s start point at the Golden Gate Bridge. Even as an 11 year San Francisco resident that rides across the bridge on a regular basis, seeing the tawny red paint of the bridge and the lush green of the Marin headlands in the background, brought a smile to my face. I was excited for a *destination ride*… three whole days of cycling that would not include a loop, a lollipop or even worse, the dreaded out and back route!
There was plenty of excitement and buzz among the 70 or so cyclists assembled to start the Ride. As professional triathlete, Beth Walsh notes: “I do The Coast Ride because I love incorporating adventure and life experience into [triathlon] training. I love to blur the line between vacation and training and get the best of both worlds.”
After handing off our backpacks containing post-ride clothes and fresh cycling kits to the SAG Monkey (a company that describes itself as a “personal bike concierge”), Rich was anxious to start riding and so we made a quick exit to avoid being at the tail end of a pack of 70+ riders, when the group pushed off moments later.
Knowing I had 370 miles of riding ahead of me in the next three days, my plan was to ride within myself, but hopefully stay with a group of riders in order to conserve as much energy as possible. The first few miles from the bridge are fairly hilly – think Escape from Alcatraz bike course – and not the smoothest of pavement. As I descended towards the landmark San Francisco restaurant, the Cliff House, my wheel hit a pothole and I heard a clattering of metal. My rear light had fallen from my seat post and skidded into the middle of the road. I rested my bike at the side of the road and planned to dash into the roadway to retrieve it… but first I had to wait for the entire peloton of 70+ riders to pass me by. It was mile 3 and I was already off the back. Not the way I wanted to begin this adventure. Luckily for me, a fellow rider and friend, Monica, had an early mechanical that put her towards the back of the group. She saw me at the side of the road and slowed her pace to allow me to catch up. I cannot lie… while I was thankful for the company, I was annoyed that my husband was at the front of the large group and our little group of two was bringing up the rear. The law of numbers pointed to the fact we would only get further behind as the miles wore on.
And then it struck me… I was so focused on my *destination ride* and how quickly I would reach the *destination*, that I was forgetting the journey aspect of my adventure! I needed to reframe things in my mind otherwise it would be a long 20 hours in the saddle to cover those 370 miles over the next three days
The journey on day one of the Ride would take us from San Francisco to the coastal town of Seaside on the edge of California’s Monterey peninsula. 125 miles that would largely hug the Pacific coastline. The best phrase to describe the first 75 miles of day one would be “Surf’s Up!” The cycling route takes us past some of the best surf beaches that Northern California has to offer, including the world renowned big wave break, “Mavericks”, off the coast of Half Moon Bay. The waves were drawing big crowds on this sunny Saturday morning and cars lined both sides of the road as we passed the main beach in Half Moon Bay. Surfers in neoprene with boards wedged underarm were jogging across the road and down the beach. It made me consider the passion and focus that surfers have for their sport, not unlike our little group of cyclists. It was heart-warming to see so many people outdoors, enjoying what they love to do.
The 75 miles to the Davenport lunch stop passed quickly as Monica and I swapped updates on family, work, training and triathlon racing plans as well as enjoying the views. Her positive energy and enthusiasm were infectious, quickly dispelling any frustration I had felt earlier. In her words: “I love the Ride. I love just waking up, eating, riding, eating, sleeping, and doing it all over again without having to pack lunches for kids, get uniforms ready, carpool, housework....it's 3 days of focus allowing myself to be alone and think, or to hang with a group of like minded individuals.”
After lunch, I joined a group of riders which included my husband. The route south from Davenport pulls away from the ocean, through downtown Santa Cruz and smaller neighborhoods until buildings start to thin out and the road flattens. The land wedged between Watsonville to the East and the Pacific Ocean is predominantly farmland. In the summer, you’ll find yourself riding through strawberry fields but in mid-January, it appeared that kale or another dark, leafy vegetable was the crop of choice. At this point in our ride, the wind had picked up and was coming from the southwest, causing a challenging mix of head and crosswinds for those seeking protection in the group. Sitting third wheel behind two Cat 1 guys, I was able to take advantage of the wide shoulder to position myself in echelon to the left of the rider ahead and remain protected from the wind. Those positioned further back in the group were less fortunate. With the boys in front pushing a strong pace and me hanging on for dear life, our group of fifteen splintered into two groups, with just four of us left up front. By the time I realized this we were less than ten miles from our destination and our route had realigned us with the ocean on the right-hand side. We soon exited the main road and jumped onto Monterey Bay Coastal Bike Trail for the last five miles into Seaside. Rolling along the bike path was the perfect cool down to a 6 hour riding day.
The SAG Monkey had arrived with all our gear and the goal now was to check into our hotel room and begin the process of recovery so we could do it all again tomorrow. Typically, my recovery comprises chocolate milk, some nutritious food, compression socks and chilling out on the couch for an hour or two. However, Rich and I were lucky enough to be testing some “Recovery Pump” boots (http://www.recoverypump.com/) so by the time I was finished with my shower, he had hooked up the boots, switched on a sports channel and was officially recovering!
After a good night’s sleep, the alarm sounded at 5am the next morning. Having spent about two hours wearing the recovery boots the evening before, I was excited to find my legs did not have that heavy feeling typical of the morning after a long ride.
The journey on day two would be the longest and hardest day in the saddle: another 125 miles with 8,000ft of climbing. With my legs feeling quite spritely, I was anxious to get going and navigate through the town of Monterey and get a start on those hilly miles before the larger pack of cyclists. I convinced Rich to push off in the dark about 30 minutes before the main group’s planned departure. Why else had we brought our bike lights if weren’t going to use them?
The first 15 or so miles are a little tricky, until you join highway 1 in Carmel. A few miles later we reached the Carmel Highlands and the ocean was once again on our right. At this point, and for most of the day’s ride, the shoulder would be almost non-existent so I was thankful for the early morning sunshine to enhance our visibility to motorists. The 90 or so miles that comprise the Big Sur coastline not only offer breath-taking views but also leg-breaking terrain for cyclists. There are just two Category 3 climbs in those 90 miles, so the 8,000ft of climbing comes largely through a relentless succession of rollers as Highway 1 clings unsurely to the jagged coastline.
Rich and I were trading off pulls consistently every mile, though he would let me to set the pace on the hills, lest I fall off his wheel if he were climbing upfront. As we ascended a small climb, he called me to look to my right towards the Pacific Ocean. I was ecstatic to see a small group of whales a couple of hundred yards offshore. January is in the middle of whale-watching season in Big Sur as California Gray Whales migrate south towards Baja California from their summer home in Alaska. I have cycled these roads numerous times but seeing whales was a first. The excitement re-energized my legs and we soon reached Ragged Point near the southern end of Big Sur for a well-deserved lunch break. I devoured the saltiest, grilled ham and cheese sandwich, I have ever tasted. Washed down with a diet coke, it hit the spot and I was ready for the final 45 mile run-in to Morro Bay.
The rollers taper off after you descend from Ragged Point and the visible landscape widens out. Combine that with a steady tailwind and the first twenty five miles from Ragged Point are fast and fun, a welcome boost to our average miles per hour. While less dramatic than the Big Sur coastline, the scenery remains appealing including an entire beach of sunbathing sea lions north of Cambria, just before the road heads inland for a few miles. The ocean is on your right once again for the final 10 mile push to Morro Bay. You immediately notice the town’s distinctive Morro rock, a 500 foot volcanic plug that sits at the harbor’s entrance. I was excited to see the rock but its sight belied the remaining distance. The last 10 miles seemed to pass by slowly. Rich and I were surprised that the large group had not yet caught us as we rode into town in search of our hotel and the SAG Monkey with all our gear. Next door to the hotel was a small taqueria so we delayed checking in for 20 minutes while we replenished with some fish tacos, chips and guacamole and some ice cold Tecates.
After 45 minutes in the recovery boots and a brief stop by the hotel’s *happy hour* wine-tasting, we joined the group dinner picnic tables assembled in front of the hotel and caught up with our fellow cyclists, swapping stories on the sights of the day: I caught up with a friend, Natalie, and she shared that “scarfing down a grilled ham and cheese at Ragged Point after all that crazy climbing was the highlight of the day!”
Day three brought the final leg of the journey: 120 miles from Morro Bay to Santa Barbara. I’ve done this ride before and while it’s the shortest day and the climbing is half of the day prior (4,000ft), it doesn’t feel any easier. What is more, the navigation is much more complicated and the route keeps you away from the Pacific Ocean for most of the day. The first 12 miles from Morro Bay to San Luis Obispo (SLO) are spent on the wide shoulder of highway 101, a two lane highway that is open to cyclists. We left with the main bunch and the pack of 70 cyclists riding two by two down the freeway must have been quite a sight for passing motorists.
Many riders stopped for coffee and bagels in the cute college town of SLO but with more than a hundred miles to go, a small group of us continued on. As the day warmed up, so did the legs of the stronger cyclists and the pace began to quicken. I was determined to hang on as long as possible, even if it meant burning every match in my book. The group of forty quickly splintered but I managed to stay with the front group of 15 or so, in spite of seeing my power meter read 300+ watts more times than I usually find comfortable. While I could never spell out directions for The Ride without a map, I knew which way to point my bike at each turn… that was a comforting feeling since I feared being dropped by this group at any point!
After a water stop in the farming town of Guadalupe, we plowed on towards the designated lunch stop in Lompoc. About 15 miles in, a couple of guys that I didn’t know well, went to the front and pushed the pace on the increasingly rolling terrain. I quickly found myself unhitched from the group, staring down 20 miles of solo riding to Lompoc. I half-expected to be caught by one of the grupettos behind. Indeed, I half-hoped I would be caught as the terrain was hilly and I was feeling the accumulation of miles in my legs from the prior two days. Misery loves company!
I put my head down, reminded myself to enjoy the journey and was quickly rolling by the Lompoc city limits sign. I was elated to reach Subway and find a bunch of cyclists in line to order. I grabbed a quick bite of my husband’s turkey sandwich and, rather than take a leisurely lunch, the two of us jumped on our bikes to tackle the final 40 miles. We pushed off at an easy pace with another rider, professional triathlete Kate Major. However, our departure had prompted a few others from the group to rally and they quickly joined us to form a group of 10 or so. I was amazed to find that a few guys were still feeling frisky after 300+ miles and disappointed that my plan of a steady pace with just 1-2 other riders had been so quickly foiled. I was soon ejected out of the back of the group on another solo journey. It was now a familiar pattern. The next 15 miles included a steady, stair-step climb but with a strong prevailing tailwind, it seemed easier than any prior ride and I was quickly descending to the coast for the final stretch to Santa Barbara: a 20 mile sting on highway 101. Rich had waited for me at the rest stop just as we joined 101 and I was thankful not to be riding on the highway solo. It was great to have the ocean once again on my right and we enjoyed the last few miles looking out on the Channel Islands and counting the oil derricks off the Santa Barbara county coast. We reached our exit in under an hour – thank you tailwind! – riding through city streets to the hotel where SAG Monkey was waiting with some victory beers!
Three days, 370 miles and 19 hours of cycling. I had completed my fourth coast ride. I handed off my bike to the crew to transport it back to San Francisco, grabbed a shower and then loaded up the minivan. An hour later, we set off on the journey north, keeping the ocean on our left.
The Ride was scheduled over a three day weekend, taking advantage of the Martin Luther King holiday to be absent from my job as an investment manager without taking a vacation day. On Saturday morning, my husband Rich, a couple of overnight guests who had traveled from San Diego and I caravanned to the Ride’s start point at the Golden Gate Bridge. Even as an 11 year San Francisco resident that rides across the bridge on a regular basis, seeing the tawny red paint of the bridge and the lush green of the Marin headlands in the background, brought a smile to my face. I was excited for a *destination ride*… three whole days of cycling that would not include a loop, a lollipop or even worse, the dreaded out and back route!
There was plenty of excitement and buzz among the 70 or so cyclists assembled to start the Ride. As professional triathlete, Beth Walsh notes: “I do The Coast Ride because I love incorporating adventure and life experience into [triathlon] training. I love to blur the line between vacation and training and get the best of both worlds.”
After handing off our backpacks containing post-ride clothes and fresh cycling kits to the SAG Monkey (a company that describes itself as a “personal bike concierge”), Rich was anxious to start riding and so we made a quick exit to avoid being at the tail end of a pack of 70+ riders, when the group pushed off moments later.
Knowing I had 370 miles of riding ahead of me in the next three days, my plan was to ride within myself, but hopefully stay with a group of riders in order to conserve as much energy as possible. The first few miles from the bridge are fairly hilly – think Escape from Alcatraz bike course – and not the smoothest of pavement. As I descended towards the landmark San Francisco restaurant, the Cliff House, my wheel hit a pothole and I heard a clattering of metal. My rear light had fallen from my seat post and skidded into the middle of the road. I rested my bike at the side of the road and planned to dash into the roadway to retrieve it… but first I had to wait for the entire peloton of 70+ riders to pass me by. It was mile 3 and I was already off the back. Not the way I wanted to begin this adventure. Luckily for me, a fellow rider and friend, Monica, had an early mechanical that put her towards the back of the group. She saw me at the side of the road and slowed her pace to allow me to catch up. I cannot lie… while I was thankful for the company, I was annoyed that my husband was at the front of the large group and our little group of two was bringing up the rear. The law of numbers pointed to the fact we would only get further behind as the miles wore on.
And then it struck me… I was so focused on my *destination ride* and how quickly I would reach the *destination*, that I was forgetting the journey aspect of my adventure! I needed to reframe things in my mind otherwise it would be a long 20 hours in the saddle to cover those 370 miles over the next three days
The journey on day one of the Ride would take us from San Francisco to the coastal town of Seaside on the edge of California’s Monterey peninsula. 125 miles that would largely hug the Pacific coastline. The best phrase to describe the first 75 miles of day one would be “Surf’s Up!” The cycling route takes us past some of the best surf beaches that Northern California has to offer, including the world renowned big wave break, “Mavericks”, off the coast of Half Moon Bay. The waves were drawing big crowds on this sunny Saturday morning and cars lined both sides of the road as we passed the main beach in Half Moon Bay. Surfers in neoprene with boards wedged underarm were jogging across the road and down the beach. It made me consider the passion and focus that surfers have for their sport, not unlike our little group of cyclists. It was heart-warming to see so many people outdoors, enjoying what they love to do.
The 75 miles to the Davenport lunch stop passed quickly as Monica and I swapped updates on family, work, training and triathlon racing plans as well as enjoying the views. Her positive energy and enthusiasm were infectious, quickly dispelling any frustration I had felt earlier. In her words: “I love the Ride. I love just waking up, eating, riding, eating, sleeping, and doing it all over again without having to pack lunches for kids, get uniforms ready, carpool, housework....it's 3 days of focus allowing myself to be alone and think, or to hang with a group of like minded individuals.”
After lunch, I joined a group of riders which included my husband. The route south from Davenport pulls away from the ocean, through downtown Santa Cruz and smaller neighborhoods until buildings start to thin out and the road flattens. The land wedged between Watsonville to the East and the Pacific Ocean is predominantly farmland. In the summer, you’ll find yourself riding through strawberry fields but in mid-January, it appeared that kale or another dark, leafy vegetable was the crop of choice. At this point in our ride, the wind had picked up and was coming from the southwest, causing a challenging mix of head and crosswinds for those seeking protection in the group. Sitting third wheel behind two Cat 1 guys, I was able to take advantage of the wide shoulder to position myself in echelon to the left of the rider ahead and remain protected from the wind. Those positioned further back in the group were less fortunate. With the boys in front pushing a strong pace and me hanging on for dear life, our group of fifteen splintered into two groups, with just four of us left up front. By the time I realized this we were less than ten miles from our destination and our route had realigned us with the ocean on the right-hand side. We soon exited the main road and jumped onto Monterey Bay Coastal Bike Trail for the last five miles into Seaside. Rolling along the bike path was the perfect cool down to a 6 hour riding day.
The SAG Monkey had arrived with all our gear and the goal now was to check into our hotel room and begin the process of recovery so we could do it all again tomorrow. Typically, my recovery comprises chocolate milk, some nutritious food, compression socks and chilling out on the couch for an hour or two. However, Rich and I were lucky enough to be testing some “Recovery Pump” boots (http://www.recoverypump.com/) so by the time I was finished with my shower, he had hooked up the boots, switched on a sports channel and was officially recovering!
After a good night’s sleep, the alarm sounded at 5am the next morning. Having spent about two hours wearing the recovery boots the evening before, I was excited to find my legs did not have that heavy feeling typical of the morning after a long ride.
The journey on day two would be the longest and hardest day in the saddle: another 125 miles with 8,000ft of climbing. With my legs feeling quite spritely, I was anxious to get going and navigate through the town of Monterey and get a start on those hilly miles before the larger pack of cyclists. I convinced Rich to push off in the dark about 30 minutes before the main group’s planned departure. Why else had we brought our bike lights if weren’t going to use them?
The first 15 or so miles are a little tricky, until you join highway 1 in Carmel. A few miles later we reached the Carmel Highlands and the ocean was once again on our right. At this point, and for most of the day’s ride, the shoulder would be almost non-existent so I was thankful for the early morning sunshine to enhance our visibility to motorists. The 90 or so miles that comprise the Big Sur coastline not only offer breath-taking views but also leg-breaking terrain for cyclists. There are just two Category 3 climbs in those 90 miles, so the 8,000ft of climbing comes largely through a relentless succession of rollers as Highway 1 clings unsurely to the jagged coastline.
Rich and I were trading off pulls consistently every mile, though he would let me to set the pace on the hills, lest I fall off his wheel if he were climbing upfront. As we ascended a small climb, he called me to look to my right towards the Pacific Ocean. I was ecstatic to see a small group of whales a couple of hundred yards offshore. January is in the middle of whale-watching season in Big Sur as California Gray Whales migrate south towards Baja California from their summer home in Alaska. I have cycled these roads numerous times but seeing whales was a first. The excitement re-energized my legs and we soon reached Ragged Point near the southern end of Big Sur for a well-deserved lunch break. I devoured the saltiest, grilled ham and cheese sandwich, I have ever tasted. Washed down with a diet coke, it hit the spot and I was ready for the final 45 mile run-in to Morro Bay.
The rollers taper off after you descend from Ragged Point and the visible landscape widens out. Combine that with a steady tailwind and the first twenty five miles from Ragged Point are fast and fun, a welcome boost to our average miles per hour. While less dramatic than the Big Sur coastline, the scenery remains appealing including an entire beach of sunbathing sea lions north of Cambria, just before the road heads inland for a few miles. The ocean is on your right once again for the final 10 mile push to Morro Bay. You immediately notice the town’s distinctive Morro rock, a 500 foot volcanic plug that sits at the harbor’s entrance. I was excited to see the rock but its sight belied the remaining distance. The last 10 miles seemed to pass by slowly. Rich and I were surprised that the large group had not yet caught us as we rode into town in search of our hotel and the SAG Monkey with all our gear. Next door to the hotel was a small taqueria so we delayed checking in for 20 minutes while we replenished with some fish tacos, chips and guacamole and some ice cold Tecates.
After 45 minutes in the recovery boots and a brief stop by the hotel’s *happy hour* wine-tasting, we joined the group dinner picnic tables assembled in front of the hotel and caught up with our fellow cyclists, swapping stories on the sights of the day: I caught up with a friend, Natalie, and she shared that “scarfing down a grilled ham and cheese at Ragged Point after all that crazy climbing was the highlight of the day!”
Day three brought the final leg of the journey: 120 miles from Morro Bay to Santa Barbara. I’ve done this ride before and while it’s the shortest day and the climbing is half of the day prior (4,000ft), it doesn’t feel any easier. What is more, the navigation is much more complicated and the route keeps you away from the Pacific Ocean for most of the day. The first 12 miles from Morro Bay to San Luis Obispo (SLO) are spent on the wide shoulder of highway 101, a two lane highway that is open to cyclists. We left with the main bunch and the pack of 70 cyclists riding two by two down the freeway must have been quite a sight for passing motorists.
Many riders stopped for coffee and bagels in the cute college town of SLO but with more than a hundred miles to go, a small group of us continued on. As the day warmed up, so did the legs of the stronger cyclists and the pace began to quicken. I was determined to hang on as long as possible, even if it meant burning every match in my book. The group of forty quickly splintered but I managed to stay with the front group of 15 or so, in spite of seeing my power meter read 300+ watts more times than I usually find comfortable. While I could never spell out directions for The Ride without a map, I knew which way to point my bike at each turn… that was a comforting feeling since I feared being dropped by this group at any point!
After a water stop in the farming town of Guadalupe, we plowed on towards the designated lunch stop in Lompoc. About 15 miles in, a couple of guys that I didn’t know well, went to the front and pushed the pace on the increasingly rolling terrain. I quickly found myself unhitched from the group, staring down 20 miles of solo riding to Lompoc. I half-expected to be caught by one of the grupettos behind. Indeed, I half-hoped I would be caught as the terrain was hilly and I was feeling the accumulation of miles in my legs from the prior two days. Misery loves company!
I put my head down, reminded myself to enjoy the journey and was quickly rolling by the Lompoc city limits sign. I was elated to reach Subway and find a bunch of cyclists in line to order. I grabbed a quick bite of my husband’s turkey sandwich and, rather than take a leisurely lunch, the two of us jumped on our bikes to tackle the final 40 miles. We pushed off at an easy pace with another rider, professional triathlete Kate Major. However, our departure had prompted a few others from the group to rally and they quickly joined us to form a group of 10 or so. I was amazed to find that a few guys were still feeling frisky after 300+ miles and disappointed that my plan of a steady pace with just 1-2 other riders had been so quickly foiled. I was soon ejected out of the back of the group on another solo journey. It was now a familiar pattern. The next 15 miles included a steady, stair-step climb but with a strong prevailing tailwind, it seemed easier than any prior ride and I was quickly descending to the coast for the final stretch to Santa Barbara: a 20 mile sting on highway 101. Rich had waited for me at the rest stop just as we joined 101 and I was thankful not to be riding on the highway solo. It was great to have the ocean once again on my right and we enjoyed the last few miles looking out on the Channel Islands and counting the oil derricks off the Santa Barbara county coast. We reached our exit in under an hour – thank you tailwind! – riding through city streets to the hotel where SAG Monkey was waiting with some victory beers!
Three days, 370 miles and 19 hours of cycling. I had completed my fourth coast ride. I handed off my bike to the crew to transport it back to San Francisco, grabbed a shower and then loaded up the minivan. An hour later, we set off on the journey north, keeping the ocean on our left.
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