July 15, 2016 Cross Country, UCI 17-18 Result: 4th July 16th, 2016 Short Track, Cat 1 17+ Result: 1st A week after Worlds, it was back in the car for a 6-hour drive to Mammoth, California. Returning to the course, I quickly remembered the brutality of the course: high temperatures, steep, relentless climbs, one bone rattling descent and lastly, 9,000 feet of altitude which is always a challenge, being from sea level I had one hard training ride before the race and I knew my condition was as ideal as possible in light of the recent traveling. My 2016 season had been my most trying yet and I was eager to put everything I had into my shot at the Stars and Stripes. I had one goal: to leave my entire heart out on course When race day dawned, I was readier than ever to give an effort that represented my season’s work. After a pleasant morning spin and some relaxing, I headed to the venue and found myself immersed in 100-degree heat. I got in a good warmup and found myself on the line. The gun sounded and I found myself in sixth wheel up the climb. Ahead I could see the turn to the single track. I knew it was essential to get there in top three positioning and I was worried I would get edged out by the pack closely following my wheel. I spotted an inside line to the corner and on a wild hope, took it. I passed all five girls and found myself in the lead. I felt smooth and effortless as we worked our way up the climb. As the trail opened up a bit, Haley made a quick pass and I grabbed her wheel. We gapped the field and worked our way farther up the climb. On the second to last climb of the lap, my system decompensated and my blood flow was reduced. I began to fall back, disoriented. My eyelids began to shudder violently and I focused on keeping the pedals turning. In that moment, I seemed to be surrounded by a large group of girls. I assumed I was passing girls that were in the U23 category as we had started a little ways behind them. However, as I would find out later, these girls were in my race. Although I thought I was sitting in third, I was actually sitting seventh. The last two climbs stretched to an eternity as I anticipated the downhill that would give me a small chance to recover. Finally, I made it to the descent. I was able to make up a little bit of time there. However, as soon as we started climbing again, I was passed by another two girls. I chased them up the climb, my stomach now cramped and my vision blurry. My mantra was merely to keep turning the pedals at the same cadence as them. As we hit the descent, I passed one of the girls and focused on reeling in the other. My body screamed at me, but my mind screamed a little louder with sheer willpower. "Just a little harder for a little longer," I told myself. Spectators were yelling at me now that I was closing the gap between me and the other girls. As I came through the feed zone, my mechanic shouted, "There's more race left and more girls to catch!" I put my head down and suffered On the steepest climb, I saw a pack of girls. I hadn't believed I would catch them until this moment; determination surged over me. With every last fiber I had left, I launched an attack. I dropped the girl I was with and bridged up to the next couple. I didn't look back. My head pounded and each pedal stroke brought knives. I carried the attack through the single track climb. I could hear a girl on my wheel. In the short descent, I braced myself for the final tempo section before the descent into the finish. I knew I had to get there first for my best shot at a medal. As soon as I hit the flat spot, I surged. I gave it everything I had, but I couldn't hold it. I fell into the descent a little ways after the girl. There was one short pavement stretch before the finish line and that would be my last shot. Hitting the pavement, I hesitated a moment too long, not wanting to sprint to early again. Then, I let loose everything I had. It wasn't quite enough. A medal was out of reach by less than a tenth of a second. Although it's always a bummer to miss out on a medal, especially by so little, I couldn’t be disappointed because I had completed my goal to leave everything I had on course. In that hour of racing, I had never felt worse in my entire life. I suffered as much as I possibly could and crossed the line knowing I had given the race my absolute 100%. Not only did I leave everything I had on course, I also learned a bit more about myself and how to really dig deep through my symptoms. Short Track Switching off pulling with Haley. After a 4pm cross country race the previous day, my body was a bit shell shocked to be warming up for another race just 19 hours after. I got in a leisurely warmup and made it to the line for our 9am start. On the line, I looked around and spotted not just junior racers but also older racers since our category was 17+. The course was short: a pavement flat section, a rough fire road climb, another flat section, two gnarly wood chip corners and an awkward dirt corner. The gun popped and I found myself sliding into the hole shot. I allowed myself to fall back into third wheel and conserve energy. On the second lap, a woman made a solo break and opened up 20 seconds on the pack. The next lap, Haley and I made a split as well. We alternated pulling each other and slowly worked our way back up to the initial breakaway. I sat in a bit and a fourth woman caught us. I was still feeling good and could tell the rest of the pack was hurting a bit as the pace dropped off. I hopped in front and pulled a few laps to maintain our gap on the rest of the field. With a couple laps to go, Haley and the other lady dropped from our group. I attempted to work with the woman from the initial breakaway to open up the gap but she was fatigued and I wasn’t willing to do the work solo. Haley bridged back up. Entering the last two laps of the race, we were a pack of three. Coming into the wood chips, the woman yelled at me to get out of the way from behind so she would have an easy pass. I heard the sound of metal and body colliding as she crashed into the fence before the turn behind me. Haley pulled into the lead and picked up the pace. I followed her wheel smoothly. She worked up the climb and onto the pavement and I was right behind. I knew it would come down to a sprint on the last pavement section. We hit the pavement, and once again, I gave it everything I had. I pulled besides her and then passed to take the win. After we crossed the line, Haley turned and smiled at me. I was still winded from the sprint but happiness flooded me. I was ecstatic to take my first national title but also to have had such a fun race in phenomenal company. The 2016 season is now officially over for me. As I head home, I am filled with overwhelming gratitude for my coach, Dario, family and teammates who lent me their shoulders to lean on in those moments when I stumbled. I can't believe I was lucky enough to be part of a program like Whole Athlete/Specialized for the third year in a row. This team is truly one of a kind. Each year spent with Whole Athlete, I feel as if I have continuously learned and transformed entirely as a rider. I am beyond honored to have worn the jersey for another year and cannot thank Dario enough.
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Exploring a local castle. Views from the local carnival ferris wheel. The day after racing in Missoula, Montana, I found myself back in the airport: this time bound for Nove Mesto, Czech Republic for World Championships, the biggest race of the season. All that strength training, stretching, core, sauna time, sacrifice and training on the bike had been for this. I knew that I was as physically prepared as I had ever been and was excited to see what I would be able to do. My mom, Christopher and I arrived a couple days before the rest of the USA National Team in order to get settled in. We spent mornings training and afternoons recovering while still incorporating carnivals, boating and some sight-seeing. The course was full of gnarly rock gardens, unrelenting, punchy climbs and some swoopy, fast descents. I loved it and felt dialed over the technical features. Race day rolled around with lots of excitement and nominal nerves on my part. I was determined to prove to myself that it was possible to have a phenomenal race despite a disappointing season in regard to my health problem. I was convinced that I could hold my dizziness at bay through some of the adaptations I had recently learned and, mainly, sheer grit. I had put all the blood, sweat and tears I could into this season and I wanted to feel proud of a race again. After spinning the legs in the morning, I felt ready to go. My warmup went flawlessly and I stayed cool despite the humidity thanks to my ice vest. I was called to the line in tenth, just barely missing the first row. On the line, I was relaxed and ecstatic to race. The gun released us and I literally moved backwards for a couple of seconds as I was swallowed by the crowd in an attempt to get going. Immediately, a familiar cloud of dizziness began to engulf me. I did my best to push it aside and finally, I began moving through the racers again but my progress was slow. Although my start was far from ideal, I knew I had plenty of time to move up. I fought hard and my legs felt decent however it had become impossible to ignore the dizziness that was present. I again pushed it aside and fought for position. The first single-track climb found us all running. I slipped and lost my balance along with a few positions but quickly was back moving. The rest of the race, I moved up pretty consistently and focused on emptying my tank on the climbs and flowing on the descents. I felt decent but I also knew that clouding dizziness was shackling me from real easing the high power I had trained and knew I was capable of producing. Before I knew it, we were entering our last lap. I passed a couple more girls and then on the final climb, had closed in on three girls in front of me. I put my head down and attempted to give it my all but faltered when I slipped out of my pedal. I was forced to run and the three girls disappeared while a Canadian passed me. I mounted and followed her into the finish but couldn’t quite catch her. I finished top American in 25th, not by any means the result I was looking for or knew I could produce but knowing I had ridden a clean race. Although my race had not been what I was hoping for, I am honored to have the opportunity to race my bike on one of the most famous and fun courses and to represent my country in such a prestigious event. Flying home, I am filled with gratitude not only for the incredible support from the small village behind me, but also from having a chance to learn and grow with the best athletes in the world. Although I could describe myself as being the nail instead of the hammer this season, my condition has only reinforced my immense love and passion for this sport alongside with my desire to be immersed in it for as long as possible. After all, “If you aren’t in over your head, how do you know how tall you are?” – T.S. Eliot
Next stop, National Championships! |