Getting Out Of My Comfort Zone: The Tour Of The Battenkill 2012
By: Matt Kupsky
As a competitive cyclist, I’m always looking for new challenges when it comes to racing my bike. Most of my races consist of local crits, a few road races and an occasional time trial, all of which are generally in the tri-state area where I’m racing with the same guys week after week. My new team this year, The Performance Lab p/b The Caffeinated Cyclist (insert sponsor plug here), has given me the opportunity to do races I normally wouldn’t put on my calendar other than the typical racing you see in New Jersey. Since a lot of my racing will be mainly in PA, where my team is based out of, I will get to experience some fast and technical racing this season, which is kind of taking me out of my comfort zone so to speak. It’s important to try new things, especially when you’re competing often, so you don’t lose interest in why you got into the sport in the first place. For me, it’s the challenge and the excitement in doing something new! So when my team decided to do the Tour of the Battenkill this year, of course I jumped on the chance to finally experience one of the toughest one day races in North America.
For those of you reading who aren’t familiar with this behemoth of a road race, let me tell you, it’s everything they advertise it to be. My race consisted of basically 150 national Category 2 riders, 10 dirt road sections, and about 80 or so miles total distance with 4,000 feet of climbing. Throw in a covered bridge that was as wide as a one car garage, and you’ve got yourself a bike race! There are a lot of decisions to make when preparing for a race like this like choosing the right equipment, nutrition to fuel your body, and what my training should be like leading up to the event. The more obscure decisions like when to take a sip of water, take a gel, float mid pack to save energy or when to move to the front of the race, also revolved around my head. Although these decisions are important, I had to remind myself that I’m human and I will make mistakes, so I would just do what I could to have a successful race. I had three goals for Battenkill: Win the race; place in the top 50% of the race; and finish the race no matter what the circumstances. Two out of three goals were pretty realistic ( I have to believe that I have a shot at winning any race, or why would I have bothered to compete) but I needed to find the confidence in myself to reach those goals.
With a car stuffed with gear, spare wheels, and three bikes, my teammates and I were ready for our pilgrimage to Cambridge, NY. We made a quick stop at our hotel, which closely resembled the Bates Motel from the movie “Pyscho” and unloaded our gear. We took some back roads (which resembled the actual course) and headed to town to pick up our race numbers and check out the vendors that were there for the weekend. My teammate Dave Dawson and I decided to drive the course to check out the new dirt sections and the condition of the roads. It was at this point that my confidence in my chances began to diminish. The dirt sections were at least 1.5 miles in length, and rough in some sections. The descents on the dirt looked even more treacherous, but it was the climbs made me cringe the most. My stomach sank as we drove the car through each corner, up every climb, and down every dirt road. I tried to joke about the course to ease the anxiety, but there was no faking it, I was feeling like I was in over my head. After a short training ride to open up the legs, we made our way to dinner to “carbo load”, but my nerves were getting the best of me, and trying to finish the food on my plate was becoming a chore. Back at the hotel, we prepped water bottles and food for the feed, put our race numbers on our bikes and kit, and checked over the bikes once more for race day. Getting a good night’s sleep before a big race is always important, but that night for me, it never came.
Race day finally arrived and we drove into town to grab some coffee, and breakfast. I barely ate, I just picked at my scrambled eggs, as though I was some hipster who felt eating food wasn’t cool enough. It was so ridiculous to think all the years racing, and I couldn’t get the right mindset for this race. By the time we were all dressed and ready to get to the start line, I felt a weight lifted from my shoulders for some reason. I began to feel more in my element, knowing that what I’m about to do is something that makes me happy. I love racing my bike, and after all that worry and anxiety, I finally found a real sense of calmness. I had done everything I could do leading up to the race, now it was a matter getting through it successfully. I was ready. We rolled to the start line on our shiny new Cannondale’s, listened to a few words from the promoter, and we were off! Like a casual group ride, the peloton strolled down the main highway out of town to the first turn, as riders eagerly began to shuffle to the front to get to the first turn safely through the covered bridge. We would roll through the first dirt section without real incident, except for a few riders that had flats or broken wheels. My teammates and I looked solid, and we were set to tackle the climbs ahead.
It was at the first climb, before the second dirt road section (only 10 miles into the race) that I would make a decision that would cost me the race win, and a chance at a top finish. As I moved to the back to take my Castelli vest off and stow it, a rider went down and caused a small pile up at the base of the climb. I was caught behind it, and I weaved my way through the wreck only to watch the race ride away in the distance. I turned on the gas up the climb with several other riders to try and make contact again with the field before the next dirt climb. But it wasn’t enough, the race was gone, and I was left on my own. I actually had company for the first thirty miles, but by the time we reached the first feed zone, guys were dropping out of the race! Myself, and one other rider worked together to get to the finish, even though we knew the race was an hour up the road. We pressed on, climb after climb, dirt road after dirt road, both having the same mentality that giving up wasn’t an option. Along the course, I saw riders with flat tires, broken wheels and broken dreams, as their Battenkill race was abruptly ended. I had a working bike, and my legs were still turning, so there was no reason for me to quit. As we approached Meeting House road, I was dropped by my “wingman”, unable to hold his pace. I pressed on anyway, dragging my body over the climb, and down the descent to the final feed zone at the 62 mile mark. I grabbed a water and Accelerade from a support feed and continued to ride the final 20 miles to the finish. Looking at a cheat sheet on my top tube, using some landmarks I had seen while driving the course, I knew the final stair step dirt climb up Stage Road was near. As hit the base of the climb, I was out of the saddle, mouth open, turning the pedals at a slow but manageable cadence. I was passed by a JR race (probably 17-18 judging by their excessive foul mouthed remarks which I won’t repeat) and looked on, as the future of US cycling left me in the dust. But still, I pressed on as I finally made it to the summit of the climb, I tucked down into the drops and made my descent into town.
The crowd in Cambridge was huge, all waiting for the arrival of the races that had departed hours ago. As I made the final turn with 200 meters to go, I felt a huge sense of relief and accomplishment that I was able to make it back safely and finish such an epic day of racing that could have easily ended early. Completely covered in dust, sweat, and salt I made my way back to the car to clean up, replaying the whole race in my head over and over again. My teammates, who finished and hour before me, were happy to see I made it through without incident. I was completely exhausted as we talked about our day in the saddle, reliving everything that had happened. I had finished the race, dead last, but finished none the less and took the experience home with me. For a race that was completely out of my comfort zone, I can say I did alright and would actually consider going back to do it again soon. This race is downright awesome, enough said.
