Stan Cran - Icup #6

*This  is very, very long.  I thought about breaking it up, into parts, but couldn't seem to find the appropriate place.


I was nervous the morning of the race, which was kind of funny, because going to these races I have no expectations of placing. I think perhaps my nerves have to do with my expectations. I want to stay close to the group, I want to climb faster, I want to make it around. Perhaps this is what caused my nervousness.


The start line for the race was crowded, and I counted 15 women in our division, however there were only 14 that finished, so I must have counted someone twice. I knew most of the gals in the race, but there were a couple of new faces. With new faces there is always wonderment of their abilities.

One of the things I like about start line is visiting with the gals and catching up—funny how we use this time for socializing, it’s a good way to calm the nerves. One of the gals I was standing next to told me about how last year she was overweight and smoked, this year she is riding and doesn’t smoke—how cool is that.

The start of the race started pretty good. My plan was to stay back in about the middle of the pack. I didn’t want to be up front pushing, but I didn’t want to be in the very back and have to do a lot of catching up. I got in a good spot and felt good about how we were starting off—a long train line. But the first “oh no” came in less than a ½ a mile into the race course.

The very first of the race you go up the parking lot, onto single track with a quick up. If you have good speed this quick up is a piece of cake. Unfortunately someone did not get the memo and the girl on rider ahead of me, decided to brake just before the hill! I couldn’t believe it. Colleen (UMB), in front of me, had to brake, I had to brake, and you could hear brakes all the way back on the line—did I mention Clydesdale started 30 seconds behind us, so they may have been braking too.

It concerned me she broke on such an easy spot. As I watched her through the single track towards the pond, I decided it would be best if I went around her. When the single track opened up I looked for a way to get around Colleen, but the loose gravel, downed riders and other conditions made it not possible, so I ended up staying in the exact same place. The nice part was our entire division was a train and riding smoothly, and I was in feeling good about my place in the pack.

I guess the good feelings were not meant to last. Right after the tunnel on the quick left hand up, the same girl who broke got off her bike to walk (if I remember correctly, or slipped). Either way Colleen went to go around her on the right, and slipped off her bike. I went on the inside of both of them, but Colleen was not done slipping and ended up falling on my bike….ouch for her. Very frustrating for her and for me, as well as everyone behind us, because basically it caused a large domino affect. I quickly grabbed my bike and went up the hill to get back on, but it was done. Our train was no longer, and a gap had been made.

I hoped I could catch up, but today’s ride was not in the stars. Right now closing a gap is not something that I can do—at least not this race. However, I was very impressed with Gayle (Mad Dog) she was behind me when all of this occurred (I am not sure how far back), when we hit the service road, she sailed by working on closing the gap. She ended up in 7th place—how cool is that, imagine if all the other stuff hadn’t happened. I was so impressed with how she came back, what an awesome rider.

Hitting the service road and the single track I soon discovered my heart was not into the ride for the day. I wear a heart monitor when I ride and race, to see improvement, and to see what is going on when I feel certain symptoms. Well, I started to notice some symptoms as I was climbing on the single track to the second service road; I looked down and say my hr was at 177. This is not bad thing if it is short lived, but if it is long it is not so good. I decided I would just keep going and hopefully the hr would go down and I would be okay.

I hit the service road down and the hr dropped down. Here I had a lot of fun riding down, minus the incident with a beginner UMB rider-someone may want to tell him when he passes he needs to let people know. He almost took me out twice, he obviously did not realize how close he came by his comments, but had I not moved he would have hit me….ugh.

Eventually I hit the up on the service road and felt good. I rode faster than I had on Fridays pre-ride, and felt the pace was perfect for me. The hr was still way too high, but I felt good, so I kept up the pace—I am sure this was a mistake, but I guess you go until you can’t go anymore.

I felt good most of the lap, and then I hit the silica pit. I looked, and then I rode. I felt good enough to go up, and this lap it was better than walking. Once I got to the steep hill portion though I got off and walked—good thing too, because it was loose and torn up. At the top the rider behind me gave me a good push to ride off—thanks much it was appreciated.

I loved going down. It was fun and smooth. I had a kid in front of me, and I am guessing he was 12 or 13, but not too sure. Anyway, as we hit the final down I encouraged him to pedal fast so we could use our momentum to get up the hill. He did and we went down flying fast. I stayed a little bit back, which turned out to be a good thing. I hit the final turn just before the tunnel, and the kid that had been in front of me was on the ground crying saying he couldn’t breathe.

I locked my brakes, and assessed the situation. He was hurt, I was not in contention for anything, and he was hurt. I took a deep breath; I know how lame that is, but some decisions can be tough, and stayed to help. He said he couldn’t breathe, and I let him know he could because he was talking. His mouth was bleeding, his arm was bleeding, and he was definitely shook up. I yelled several times at the people by the tunnel to get a medic and eventually got a response. I moved the kid’s bike off the trail, and then someone else jumped in to help.

At this point I looked around and saw the people who had stepped in to assist were in the beginner rider category. I asked them if they would mind staying with him since I still had another lap to go and they said they would. I left, but some of the race had been taken out of me. I had been there for what felt like 3 to 4 minutes, but looking at my time later learned it was more like 2 minutes and 30 second. On my climb out of the tunnel I saw the kid on oxygen, glad the medics finally got to him.

I rode knowing now there was no way I would catch anyone. I don’t know if this was a defeatist or realistic attitude, but it was what it was. So I rode determined to try and finish hard. Once again, this was not in the stars. On the single track climb towards the service road down my hr continued to escalate, but this time my body started to feel the symptoms and I was becoming very fatigued. From here on out every hill climb was a struggle and my hr continued to jump way too high.

Riding up the service road I began to reflect on my decision of stopping to help the hurt kid. Was it a good decision, should I have helped him, or should I have moved his bike and just gone on. I decided it was good. If my child was hurt I would want to know someone thought it was more important to stop, than to race. I also worried maybe I should not have left until the medics came. Granted I made sure someone was with him, but maybe I should have stayed. As I was thinking about this and the race, the guy who helped create the race course rode up by me. We had a good conversation and I was reminded of how lucky I am to be doing what I am doing.

You see this guy knew about ASD’s. He was familiar with the device that was put in my heart, he knew all about my cardiologist, and he also knew about the healing process. In fact he knew with my particular device it would take longer to heal, but it was the better device. I needed this talk. As much as I know I am coming back and it is 6 months to 1 year of recovery, many times I see this as an excuse not a reason.

I often feel like I should be so much further than I am. I feel like I should be losing weight more quickly. I feel like I should be able to climb and pound up the hill like I used to, and I feel like 18 miles should be no big deal. And most of all I feel like the heart thing should not have changed anything, but it has, and sometimes I need to be reminded that it is real and not an excuse. I tell myself this often so as not to become discouraged with all of my “I could do that only a couple of months ago, why not now” attitude. So it was nice to talk with someone who had knowledge of an ASD and then let me know he was surprised they let me ride a bike so soon. Ah yes, I am reminded, I get to ride my bike how cool is that.

We rode a little further and then parted ways. For the race he was my gift and my reminder which helped me continue on my way. The rest of the race was a struggle, but I did it, and boy was I grateful when the downhill came, and even more so for the end of the race.

The end of this race was quite the struggle for me, I was tired and fatigued, but determined to finish. I think I could have gone 14 miles, but almost 18 miles did me in. However, one lap would have been too short, so I am making little improvements.

I missed awards and cheering for lady Mad Dogs who took 1st, 2nd & 3rd in Sport. Way to go ladies!!! I was busy looking for Mandy who I eventually found in the pond—should have known.