Ascent Series #3 - Hitting the wall

I promise I have more in store than just race updates, but in the meantime, here's another race update.

Photo Cred: Tim Bergsten/PikePeakSports.us

The third installment of the Ascent Series was another showdown in Palmer Park. Yes, that's three Palmer Park races in a row. This course loosely followed the KMC Classic loop, with the omission of the Grandview descent / Cheyenne tech section. I was super stoked for this track, it's fast and flowy, with minimal climbing (which ultimately worked to my detriment), and I had already ridden some hot laps over these trails 2 week prior, so I could take this as an opportunity to try some new lines I had learned and developed last month.
I had spent the preceding week or so basically ignoring any training schedule for the sake of just having fun on my bike. That consisted of mostly road miles and commuting, and also forgoing proper maintenance of my legs. I say this to preface my raceday backstory...
I woke up Wednesday morning with aching limbs, and instantly I knew I had fumbled my recovery time. At this point all I could do was eat right, hydrate, and hope for the best. I relaxed as much as I could before having to pretend to be a responsible adult, performing my functions in society. Around 3 o'clock we received our afternoon thunderstorm while I was commuting about, taking care of my to-do list. If wisdom was a quality I possessed, I would have sought out shelter and grabbed a coffee, but I do not possess wisdom, and I got caught smack dab in the middle of a downpour. So now its 4:00, and I'm soaking wet with a set of empty legs. Still, at this point I wasn't too concerned about my ability to race, and I rolled up to the Start/Finish line early enough to watch the Cat 2/3 races and grab a bite to eat. So now it's five o'clock and time for me to change into a dry kit and get in a warmup and a pre-ride. Using the primitive bathroom at Council Grounds as my dressing room, I lay out my things and shut the door behind me, immediately remembering why the door should remain open. The padlock on the doorframe has a knack for becoming entangled behind the vandal-resistant lock guard on the door. So now its 10 after 5 and I'm stuck in the creepy dungeon bathroom. After ten minutes of my calls for help going unrequited, I was finally able to coerce the assistance of a beer-drinking spectator after threatening bodily harm if he did otherwise.
In retrospect, it seems as though the chips had been stacked against me all day, but oddly enough I still felt optimistic and excited to ride.
I was able to get in two quick and easy laps on the track, finishing my warmup just in time to roll into my spot at the start line. I pounced when the whistle blew, going just hard enough to sprint off with Nick Thelen and take a spot behind him as we entered the singletrack. During our first lap I was mentally ready to race as I kept Nick in my sights and rode defensively, which is pretty much all you can do when you're up against that guy. We were all moving at a good clip, the rain had left the dusty course nice and tacky, allowing us to really rail through the turns and keep a good pace. All the elements of the course at this point were making for some fast racing, perhaps too fast for me... My second lap was uneventful, as I began to settle into a pace. On my third lap I could feel that pace deteriorating, I was fading fast. Travis Ekenberg was catching up to me after the first climb of the lap and, ignoring what my body had been telling me all day, I dug deep to pull away and put another gap between us. Coming into our fourth and final lap it was evident I should have employed tactics and let Travis pull me, because I had burned valuable energy in an attempt to defend my position. The lack of rest made itself apparent; I wasn't bonking, I was hitting the wall. Crashing straight into it. I was feeling fatigued and depleted, my vision was blurring, and combined with the fog and sweat inside my sunglasses, I started making costly mistakes. Eventually my front tire washed out in a turn and I took a bellyslide through the gravel, wasting more valuable time. Shortly thereafter, Travis bridged the gap and took his position in front of me. Even with his words of encouragement I still couldn't derive the power from my legs to hold his wheel. He slipped away and out of sight as we reentered the singletrack. Determined to not slip any further back in the results, I took our final descent at full speed, offering up prayers of appreciation that the course ended with a downhill section. I released my brakes and let the flow of the course carry me to the finish, 16 long seconds behind Travis, and a whopping 1:28 behind Nick.
At the finish line I felt nothing but gratitude. First and foremost I was thankful to be done, but ultimately I was grateful for the lessons I learned and the experience I gained at this race. Every race under your belt is that much more practical knowledge you can build on for future events, and this race contained a heap of education. Obviously the point of racing is to win, but sometimes it's much more valuable to race and learn.