American Road Cycling: PSL : San Remo Up Past West Point

San Remo Up Past West Point
- SlingShot
06/29/08

this page last updated: 02/01/2015 10:39:12 PM

Something about a smoky summer haze in Harriman Park defies description.

It is almost as if a light fog has settled in well past the time of morning you would expect it. A soft dusky shimmer envelopes everything, mutes away anything harsh, provides contrast to enhance the clarity of every worthwhile object.

On this day those sparkling objects were the bunches of people grouped around Tiorati Circle at the top of Seven Lakes Drive, along with all the fine brush details of the stuff they were carting around.

It was like one of those old timey rustic paintings of villagers, farmers, kids, horses, tractors and cars... but without the horses and tractors.

Instead there were Harleys, swimmers, a cold-drink van, hikers, joggers, walkers, cyclists, fishers, park rangers, and full-on barbecues. The parking lots were acrawl with activity.

Otherwise, we are accustomed to being in the park empty, so it was shocking to crest into the circle from the east side of Seven Lakes and be greeted with this scene which could have been the opening of a movie.

A helicopter zoom-over would have barely made it more astonishing.

That's what got me and the Widder on our bikes for the ride this morning. Even though her toe was still smarting from being broken—offsetting against her calf and pushing her thigh into her opposite over-stressed psoas making her other leg give out in anger.

It was especially harder to come out for this ride, because her recent three times daily Yoga, stretching, and soccer ball dribbling have made such improvement in her overall movement that we were both reluctant to give up the gains on yet another group ride to nowhere.

But Harriman (as described) is somewhere, plus the climb up toward West Point that we call San Remo (because it looks so much like a famous poster) is somewhere else again.

Therefore, the thought of missing a scene such as this sparkling morning in Harriman to find ourselves on the wind hammered flat flat Floriduh trails again next winter saying, "We didn't even do San Remo this year," was enough to get us out.

Also we needed to test equipment, because the day before on the Hump we had such a tailwind that we were questioning if the 20+ final leg home could really have cost Mary only a 68 watt average.

To use as a test, and a rationalization, I came up with a plan, and we brought it to the ride.

We knew somebody was supposed to be there who had not yet had the opportunity to see Mary put in a reputable uphill pace interval, so Mary's assignment was to stay on the back of the group and rest as much as possible (but not get dropped) all the way to the foot of the San Remo climb coming out of Cornwall.

Once there she would start an interval at her 1-hour functional threshold. This would not be a guesstimate of her threshold but a solid objective reliable repeatable result of watching her power meter readings. She would be conservative with a premium placed on safety and efficiency.

We figured she would not have to finish the whole 1-hour but go at least to the top of 293, which is on up past West Point, maybe 40 minutes total. That would be enough of a viewing.

Unfortunately, due to a series of crossed messages and miscommunications, the person who was to enjoy this climbing seminar was not at the ride.

We changed the plan.

Mary was still to stay on the back of the ride to San Remo, but afterwards she would only need to do enough of an interval to check equipment and confirm her improving leg situation was more than a mere hope. After that we would bail out and come home to open shop.

Maybe another rider or two might notice something special was happening, maybe not. How long she would do it would be up to her.

We knew it would be a bit of a challenge for her to hold her FT wattage, because there are two severe switchbacks and several lesser ones on the early descent just after the overlook at San Remo, and that would mean sections of zero watts before the serious climb began.

Mary would take the hit on watts in favor of safety. To mitigate the dropped watts, she would not ease up at the overlook, plus she would ignore the rest of the riders during her interval.

If they were going too hard (which is how they usually like to injure themselves), she was to let them go.

When her pace would bring her back past them (after they had their fill of overworking), and they would start popping off her wheel, she was not to wait. She was to just hold her pace for as long as was decided appropriate at the beginning of the climb.

At the gates on 218 she planned a 12 minute interval, and things went perfectly.

She was just slightly off the group at the top of the first section when several riders decided it was time for a pee break. She caught those who knew better than to stop at the end of the tight switchbacks and just as the true climb began. She heard somebody mumble something and drop off her wheel after they realized this effort was not going to end anytime soon.

Finally she was alone when she clicked off her interval at the 12 minute mark, and she made note that it was three minutes before the first of the other riders got back to her. It was Pedro, and he gave her the same look Lance gave Tyler Hamilton after that famous climb on the Tour, except Pedro was still breathing hard.

About 40 seconds later (Mary likes to keep track of time) a fresh as a daisy Humberto caught up. We later intercepted his e-mail to somebody who had missed the ride, "The first half of the ride was nice and easy, but then Mary picked up the pace and dropped Paul, Pedro and Doctor Art."

Of course Humberto is the semi-famous Humberto Cavalheiro who is even more famous for being Turtle Boy. He is probably the only one on the ride strong enough to to have had a clue about what had actually happened.

It is unlikely any of the others (if they noticed at all) could possibly believe that Mary's pace was only, merely, and just at her conservative FT, which she could have held for the rest of the day.

Turtle Boy knew, but even he was pissed off enough at the effort to give Mary a few meaningful gestures afterwards.

After her interval, Mary waited for me, and we finished our own ride up 293 with a wind assisted chase back to the big downhill on 6.

When we got back to the car we realized there might be some riders chasing Turtle Boy in Harriman who would love a few of the bottles of water from the case in our trunk, so we drove over to arrive at the Tiorati Circle scene described above at the start of this story.

My theory was that the other riders would go into the park, do a loop of the race course ending with the uphill on Tiorati Brook Road and then go home. If we went backward from the circle we might hook up with them, and we did.

Soon after we started the downhill off Tiorati Circle we saw a very intense Turtle Boy just finishing the climb. We continued going down looking for a turn around and found the other riders spread out and mixed up among a few dozen other riders from other rides all along the climb.

Humberto was a full mile in front of the closest in his group—on a three mile climb.

We drove back up the climb, stopped, and passed out water then went looking for a straggler, and the next we saw of Humberto was on 17M near the series of five stop lights that would eventually slow him down enough for the others to get close enough to see him, think they were still in his ride, and "almost" catch him, but when we came upon him (just before that) he was a full three miles in front, and we saw something probably nobody else has ever seen.

Humberto's generally kind and gracious face was now a rigid mask of stark determination. His effort was over the top and he was not letting up.

We paced him in the car, and from her comfortable seat Mary saw something scary in Humberto's face that she never saw before.

We are sure nobody else has ever seen it either. It was the hardened look of a champion, and nobody has been in front long enough to see it.

People rarely bring cars to bike rides.

Apparently, Humberto's friend Albino (formerly 3rd in World Competitions of some sort), will be coming over from Portugal for a visit soon, and Turtle Boy wishes not to look silly when he gets here.

I explained that is why Humberto understands what Mary did on San Remo up to West Point saying, "I told you the others wouldn't understand... that it would take a really strong rider to be there when it happened, and to understand what made it happen, and to know that it was going to go on and on without a break. The others are good for a few minutes (much stronger than you), but a sustained effort is not something they understand."

I said, "They may be ahead of you at 2 minutes, maybe still at 7 minutes, but around 10 to 12 minutes things will be different. You might say to them, 'Since you liked the first 15 minutes so much, see how you like the next 45, because after 1-hour I will be warmed up and we can start moving things along a little.'"

What now only Humberto understands, the others may eventually know as they finally realize that Mary has begun riding like SlingShot, but without the huge fat ass.

this page last updated: 02/01/2015 10:39:12 PM