By Lina Martensson -- Pescadero Road Race (W3/4) -- 06/19/10

When I did Pescadero as a cat 4 last year, I had to race with the evil 3s and the evil 35+ women (35+ is a euphemism for lazy cat 1/2), was dropped twice, was shown just how much of a climber I am not and how much climbing sucks in a race, and it was awful. Completely horrible. So naturally, I signed up for the race right away when registration for 2010 opened back in January. With all this suffering, it's my favorite race 364 days of the year!

I had my hopes up for this year. I would still have to race with the evil 3s and the lazy 1/2s, true. But somehow I had accidentally submitted an upgrade request since my last race a month previously as I had an attack of hubris and enough points (on the nose), so technically I'm an evil 3. Except I identify more with the 4s. But after a break and whatnot coach Sean said I was doing it for training, so I officially set my goal to show off my new bike (it's really hot!) but secretly I was still hoping to do somewhat well. I'd even gone to pre-ride the course and pre-eat garlic artichoke bread!

With varying hopes of their own, I was joined by three teammates: Niki-the-tiny-road-racer, Lisette-just-back-from-three-months-in-Costa-Rica-without-a-bike, and Tina-my-coach-made-me-do-it. Tina and I had many long discussions about this race in the weeks leading up to this race. They mostly went along the lines of:
Tina (with terrified look on her face): Aaaaaaah we're racing Pescadero!
Lina (big grin from ear to ear): YES! I was dropped twice last year! It was awful! It's my favorite race!
Tina: Aaaaaah!
Lina: Yaaaaaay!
Tina: Aaaaaah!
Lina: Yaaaaaay!

(If you feel that this sort of conversation sounds familiar, feel free to join a meeting with our Support Group For Girls With Training Plans. We usually meet at Monk's Kettle after races, and it involves recovery beer.)

As we get closer to any race, my trusty carpool buddy Tina will always say something obvious like "Aaaah we're racing <insert race here>" and I will either be in denial and say "What...? We are?" or be more overtly nervous and say "Why are we doing this again...?". I'm not sure why she's friends with me. In either case, on this particular day, I was completely oblivious that we were on our way to a race and was mostly thinking about garlic artichoke bread and how we would ride past the bakery twice and thus could have *two* neutral garlic artichoke bread breaks!

We got there, got ready and pinned our numbers and all that stuff, and I even warmed up. It wasn't even wet like last year. Though somehow, I was assumed to be a 35+ woman at the registration. Whaaat? That's at least five more years! I can only assume that the guy at registration thought I looked way too strong to possibly be a 3/4. I made sure to give him lots of shit about it anyway, just to be on the safe side. We found Niki and Lisette, and after a bit we lined up for the start. The beginning sounded something like this: *whistle* pedal pedal pedal *pssssscccccccccch* "Niki, that's you!"

What the f***! (Edited for family friendliness. Because I bet loads of families read my race reports.) Within a mile, Niki's tube had already performed harakiri in anticipation of the 47 miles of suffering it would've had to withstand, and she was out.

The rest of us went on and my dreams of a better race didn't last any further than to the first descent on Stage Rd, where I got stuck behind some slow descenders and was subsequently dropped (yeah yeah, if I was so damn good I wouldn't have been so far back in the pack, but I'm not so damn good, ok?). That wasn't my plan! Well, my plan was actually to show off my new bike, which is best done in a pack, so I chased back on and they weren't that far ahead anyway. We had about half the people left in the pack by then (30 people or so) and we went on to 84, where some attempts at attacks were made but those were shut down faster than I can say "garlic artichoke bread".

Last year I didn't stand a chance of hanging on up Haskins Hill, and that's where I had been dropped the second time (and never caught back on). This time, I crested the top with the pack but guess what - I was near the back and got stuck behind slow descenders and was dropped again. I passed people as soon as I could, safely, and then tried to chase back on. The pack was never far ahead but only one or two other people in our growing chase group were interested in doing any work to get back on so in the end I just did whatever I could to claw my way back and ended up more fatigued than I would like. (But hey, that's bike racing!)

By the time we were about to start the second lap my legs were tired and my stomach was cramping (or was it just reminding me that I had completely failed to live up to my promise of a neutral garlic artichoke bread break on the first lap?). On Stage Rd I was dropped a couple more times, and for a change, not only on the descent. I mentally checked out from the race and was content with sitting at the back when we reached 84. But I hadn't forgotten about my goal, so as we were chatting about how much better everything is at the back (you can rocket snot all you like! and eat!), I also made the girls aware of my goals for the race and showed off my shiny, shiny bike. They thought it was very nice. Yay! 3/4 through the race and the goal had definitely been reached.

I don't know how it happened but somehow I managed to get myself gapped on the rollers just before the finishing climb up Haskins as well. Oh well. But being dropped 4-5 times is surely better than being dropped twice! Besides, I'd caught up again before we reached the climb.

And, well, that climb wasn't really the best performance of my cycling career this time either. Most of the dwindled pack finished ahead of me and once again Pescadero defeated me.

But at least we had garlic artichoke bread after!