Battenkill Roubaix Race Report

BATTENKILL ROUBAIX

There is debate on whether Battenkill Roubaix is the closest thing to a European Spring Classic in the Northeast. The course with its steep dirt pitches, endless rolling hills, covered bridges and picturesque rural scenery certainly fits the description. The question the remained, would the competition from all corners of the region provide the intensity to match and could I handle it. Either way I anticipated a day of great suffering.

The Cat 4 field forced by popular demand was split into two 100+ rider fields. The Red field started approximately seven minutes ahead the Black field. I was slotted in with the Black’s which included my rivals Dan Chabanov (honorary teammate/rival), Austin Horse, and my Kissena teammates Gui Weinmann and William Capitman.

The field together

The rollout was typical with the pace gradually building steam. The field was chalk full of wannabe racers and staying near the front required some elbows and elbow grease. I didn’t pre-ride the course but my intelligence sources informed of a steep climb ten miles in. My initial thought (and slightly generic) on the race was to stay near the front on the first few climbs, match the pace of the front runners. Doubting my strength I had no plans to be a hero. I was however fully prepared for the pain of oxygen debt and knew any vertical gain would have to be attacked. I was told of fields torn in half in the first ten miles of this race. I wasn’t going to be part of that losing half.

The first climb was a steep winding half mile paved road. Chabanov reported directly to the front and drove up the pace. I was third wheel over the crest and took a moment to glance backwards. I could see the entire climb; I could see the entire field single file, stragglers falling off the back. Sensing our strength I yelled at Dan to keep up the brutal pace up and over the top. We rode at our limit down the descent with the pack chasing. Almost immediately we started up what was the toughest climb of the day. The dirt road resembled the beach with a loose and tricky layer of sand covering the path. My mountain bike senses kicked in as I focused hard on my cadence and weight distribution over the bike. A few riders in front of me spun their wheels and wobbled as they lost grip. I found the fast groove and attacked at 99% of my maximum. Reaching the top I was all alone. The following descent I was joined by Dan first with Jordan Sagalowsky and another rider shortly after. As the road flattened out Dan and I eased off slightly and trailed the two front riders by seconds. After our collective breaths were caught we worked together, caught two leaders, and started forming what would be the escape of the day.

Austin approaching the feed zone (he was fed my spare bottle by the Albany crew)

Everybody was cooked from the brutal start of the race and took a moment for composure. The first chase group including Austin and six others dug in and bridged the gap. The site backwards became free and clear as our speed remained moderately high. The group quickly self organized and the classic rotating pace line commenced. For the first time I was riding in a proper road race and in a proper break.

The factors of the race soon become clear. Sagalowsky was itching to ride hard and was having a hard time being contained to our group. On the other end some of the breakaway companions were missing pulls and looking haggard early. Around mile twenty we lost Austin. He was suffering early from dehydration and muscle cramps. The temperature kept rising and was well into the mid 80’s. I became religiously diligent with my hydration and fueling procedures during this stage of the race. All the hard lessons learned during endurance mountain bike races paid off under these conditions. The first feed-zone was around mile 25 and luckily Dan had recruited some locals from Albany to provide support. I discussed within the group (as some guys weren’t taking anything on) and we all agreed not to launch any attacks during the feed. Mad props to Devin and Andrew from Albany for the water handouts. It would have been a challenge to carry it all on-board. In total for the day I consumed 2 bottles of Heed, 2 ½ bottles of water, three gels, and a half dozen electrolyte tablets.

SUPPORT CREW IN ACTION

PLANNING THE FEED-ZONE ROUTE

Mid race and Sagalowsky checked out. The apparent Olympic level rower did not attack, he simply rode hard and everyone fell off his wheel. He soon disappeared into the beyond. I was in too much pain to care and concentrated on my pulls and recovering when possible. The middle section of the race featured more difficult dirt climbs. The climbs although not particularly steep or long came in quick succession. During the biggest crisis of my race I struggled to turn the pedals over as my body was completely covered in goose bumps and my vision faded black. I rode that razor thin edge where if I pushed another millimeter it would have been all over with. This moment of despair seemed to be caused more by the hot dusty air than the pace. Another rider #560 tried his own version of an escape but after about five solo miles came back.

Our group was passing stragglers from the Cat 4 red field in droves. At the base of a hard steep climb we caught a pack of about thirty riders. Through the thick dust our break plowed through and emerged at the top glued together. I had another close call when some pack fodder lost grip on a loose section and swerved to a stop directly in front of me. I bombarded him with explicatives and approached oxygen debt to make up the distance lost.

A rider near us collapsed into the ditch on the side of the road. The poor guy was still clipped in with his bike sticking straight into the air. As the ditch ridden rider lay convulsing, (heat stroke?) one of our suffering companions in all seriousness begged for the guy’s water bottle. The inhumanity was shocking.

I recovered nicely over the next few miles. The same couldn’t be said for some of the boys. We had shrunk to six riders and it was becoming apparent who had the strength to continue on. Pulls were consistently traded and I was berated on numerous occasions for ramping the pace up too high. I considered attacking the group but remained patient as fifteen long miles remained.

The pacing duties were nicely shared on the lead up to the final climb. I knew of a climb five miles out but as we hit it I didn’t know exactly what I was facing. The road once again turned to dirt. The strongest rider in our group flatted with a bang and that set me off. I gritted the dirt in my teeth and attacked hard. I barreled through the sand on that thin line between cramping, loosing grip, and crashing into all the stragglers who were zig zagging across the road. In my tunnel vision induced stupor I didn’t even realize at the time we were going uphill. The road pitched steeply one last time at gave way to smooth pavement. Cresting the top our group soft peddled for about a quarter mile then got straight back to business.

The damage to the competition had been done. With the leader still up the road our group had shattered. Only three remained. This is the point where Dan upon reaching his limit used his brain and backed off in order to prevent a race ending meltdown. In my mind we still had another climb to tackle but as the odometer ticked closer to 55 it was remained flat. A few miles from the finish I passed from the Red group Shusaku Shiroyama another one of my Brooklyn based rivals. I felt bad as I grabbed his ass as I blew by to add insult to injury. It turns out he actually finished a respectable fourteenth in the Red group.

The finish line came into view and I was with Aaron Cruikshank and Bruce Beauharnois. We sized each other up and I began to taunt Bruce. He laughed back in my face and although he was glowing red (to match his jersey?) he had fight left in him. Aaron wasn’t saying much, just barreling ahead towards to finish at a high rate. Out of the three of us he was clearly the strongest. With 300 meters to go he launched. I was third wheel behind Bruce. Bruce boggled his gear change and a gap opened up to Aaron who was full bore. I drove around Bruce and crossed the line third on the day. My time was three minutes faster than the winner of the Red group. I was four minutes behind Jordan Sagalowsky (he passed the entire Cat 4 red field) who continues to turn heads and will be targeted when the circuit hits Bear Mountain in three weeks. Dan Chabanov was sixth about five minutes back. Austin rolled in 14^th.