By Karen Ulrich (Comedy Central/New Canaan Cyclery)

Stage One—The Country and Western Time Trial Song

The alarm went off releasing a mournful twang-full blast, something about being done wrong or jilted love. “Ah, the country and western time trial song,” said Beth, before the day’s panic began.

Actually the panic had been on going all week. Without knowing the course, I had been thinking about the TT all week long—focusing on achieving and maintaining that level of pain. I rode the course the night before the race, practiced the u-turn over and over again, and was equipped with a borrowed disc wheel—sweet.

At the start I was ninth in line and was so nervous my arms went numb. Hands tingling, I shook them out—where the hell are my arms and how can I ride my bike without them! Deep breathing. Noticed my family at the corner, but didn’t look, stayed focused. No ramp this year, just as well. Bike held in position—five, four, three, two, one—my arms came back just as I took off up the slight incline. Pumped ‘til I found my pain, out of the saddle to crest the top, my first 30-second girl was in sight. As I passed her, the other two had disappeared around the bend but reappeared just before the turn. Kept the pace until I had to break, turned carefully and pumped it up again. Passed my second girl, then the third. Managed to maintain the pain on the descent, took the corner wide into the hotel drive. Got out of the saddle to gain some speed, dropped back in the aeros until the incline climbed steep. People were shouting all along the drive, Coach Carlos ran up the hill, “Go! Go!” I stepped on the gas at the flat and pushed it until I crossed the line, where I thought I might puke. No matter the result, I knew I’d left nothing behind.

First place so far. For how long could I keep it? I had no idea what my competition might be. Waiting…spinning…announcer every now and then…Ulrich still in first…unbelievable! I kept it ‘til the end—with a 35 second gap on BCA/Vomax’s Laura Spector and 46 seconds on Kendra Jarratt. The leader’s jersey even matched our CC/NCC shorts. What a day!

Karen still glows while all around her is dark.

Stage Two—Saving it for Stage Three

Circuit Race, five laps, a few corners and a nice descent into a 90-degree turn that leads directly into the finishing two-step hill. My goal was to finish with the front group, keep the jersey, and have plenty of energy for the death climb up Wachusett on Saturday.

First lap I kept near the front until the turn, where I was kicked back as the pack aggressively surged and fought for position. Okay, I got it…this is how this one plays out. Slogged up in the middle of the pack, Coach screaming, “You have to move up!” I regained position as we began descending beneath the trees and was better off on the remaining turns. Spector looked strong, effortlessly pulling the pack around. I had yet to learn she’s a world-class cross-country skier (at 17 or 18) and is a bi-athlete in training for (I believe…) the Olympics. In the leader’s jersey was a strange place to be. Without teammates in the field it seemed most everyone at the front was working together, to achieve what at the moment, I couldn’t quite tell. On the forth lap in third position going into the hill, I sat up—“save it,” I thought as I watched the sprinters jump up the hill for points. Verizon Wireless’ Alie Kenzer won the race, and Jarratt (3rd in GC) was passed by Team Bike Alley’s Arielle Filiberti at the line, putting Jarratt in forth (phew!) and even though she won the green jersey, she hadn’t gained any time on me. Spector finished 11th, just a few places ahead of my 15th. We kept our three spots on the podium and I tried hard to clear the following day from my mind.

Stage Three—Would’ve, Could’ve, Should’ve…

Three laps, 33 miles—how bad could it be? We’d driven the course on the first day and seeing it from the car made me sick, but Beth said climbs always look worse from the car and so I tried to believe.

The initial pace was easy, the usual faces at the front, but here is where I began to feel the camaraderie that’d been developing in the pack—giving up wheels, letting each other in, warning what wheels to avoid. The Verizon girls had devised a plan and approached Spector, Jarratt, and I about forming a break, saying they’d carry us to the top of the feed zone with a few others then use our legs on the descent to make a break. Sounded good; everyone agreed. The first time up the feed zone was easy. Beth was right it looked much worse from the car. The newly paved descent (which we’d been warned was a 70 m.p.h. descent—riding without computers, I have no idea what speeds we reached) was amazing. The second time up the feed zone hill felt like the first. On the third lap, somewhere between the descent and the beginning of the feed zone climb, we were pulled over and stopped (on a slight ascent) to wait for a single junior breakaway!

Why we had to stop, I have no idea, but it disrupted our positions and pace for sure. Some of the girls even had enough time for a pee break! Back on the bikes, the final time up the feed zone wasn’t as smooth as the first two, and the girls who were supposed to be carrying us up were no where in sight. Spector was first or second up the hill and there were a couple of bike lengths between us. I must have put my head down for a second, because I didn’t even see her go. By the time I realized she was away she had a gap. In retrospect, I should have broke away and chased her down on my own, but instead a few of us developed some kind of pace line that was no where near efficient enough to catch her. A tough decision—do I pull at the front and risk losing my juice for the climb, or continue this rotation? I opted for the former, got to the front and pulled, closed in a bit, sat in, pace slowed, pulled again until entering the final climb up Wachusett. I felt slightly cooked and could only imagine how disappointed my coach must have been to see me get swallowed up by the pack of 15 that’d entered the climb together. I stepped on the gas and kept the pace for a short while until I was passed by McMaster Cycling Club’s Karen Watson and Mission in Motion Cycling’s Marsha Kapinus. I tried but couldn’t catch them. Nearing the top Team Bikery’s Carol Picot, passed me by too and no matter how hard I stood and pushed, there was nothing I could do. The climb at the top is brutal and when some guy offered me his wheel I couldn’t even take it. Jarratt and Kenzer caught me and we passed the line together. I didn’t yet know for sure, but had a feeling I’d just lost the jersey, and yes it turned that feeling was right. Spector now had the jersey and a 36 second gap on me. No need to write how disappointed I was with my 7th place climb.

Stage 4—Are We There Yet?

Waking up Sunday morning, my head wasn’t in it. I had only ridden a few crits before and had hated them all because I had never been able to maintain position or take the corners well enough to maintain what little position I had. I hated to say it, but my gut told me to sit in, avoid crashes, and hold tight to my 2nd place in the GC. In the car with my coach on the way to the course he said, “No, you have to try to win. Attack on the 10th lap. Attack on the 5th lap.” I’m thinking—What? Are you kidding? Is this over yet? There’s no way I can stay away that long. “Alright,” he said. “If you can’t get away, at least try to win the stage in a sprint.” Ha, I laughed to myself—me winning a crit field sprint—now that’s a good one. My only hope at the time was to not be stuck at the back of the pack.

Photo courtesy Aaron Wolfe.

The race began and surprisingly I found myself at the front, even leading the pack in to the 90-degree turns a few times, finally feeling what a proper line felt like. The slight rise towards the finish line felt sweet on my legs and if I fell too far back it was no problem moving up along the outside of the pack. On the third lap or so, someone crashed. The ambulance took up half the road by the finish line, and the first few sprints were eliminated. There had been some talk of a plan with the Mission in Motion team, attacks and counter-attacks followed by a two girl break with me in it, but it didn’t seem like this was going to happen. Surprisingly I was having a good time and by the time I looked up to see how many laps we had left we were down to two! Shit! Going in to the second to the last u-turn my position was too far back to do anything, so I spent that lap moving up and maintaining. Somewhere between the finish line and u-turn my coach screamed, “Karen, you have to go!” and I must have heard him, because at that moment, I jumped. Around the u-turn, I looked back, the pack wasn’t there. Down the descent, I held my gap. Around the corners, I knew I had it. Up towards the finish they closed in on me, but I crossed the line 4 seconds ahead of the field. Not enough to take back 1st place in the GC—but enough to win and enough to have gotten over my dislike of crits! Julie Reid of CRCA/Rocky Mounts took second and Eve McNeil of Harvard finished third. Spector finished at the back of the pack, but she held on to first place in the GC. I finished a mere 22 seconds behind her, and Jarratt 1:19 behind first, took third.

CRCA had a good showing overall in the Women’s Cat. 4 GC—Reid finished 10th, Bicycle Workshop’s Nancy Camp took 11th, Radical Media’s new comer Jenny La Plante finished 21st, and Sanchez Metro’s Wendy Cohen took 30th.

I had a tremendous amount of support this weekend and I can’t be thankful enough for it all—to everyone who screamed from the sidelines, to my family who came for a few days to see what all the madness is about. My teammates I thank for their support and advice!!!—and Beth for her early morning humor. It was a great pleasure to ride with my fellow Cat. 4’s, thanks for being so lovely. Our sponsors, to name a few, Comedy Central, Axis, and New Canaan Cyclery—thank you Robert Sherlock for all your support! And finally a big fat thanks to Coach Carlos Restrepo who trained me to suffer and made it possible for me to worry only about racing my bike.