Survival of the Fastest

Iowa – Memorial Day equals an extra long weekend for a junior bike racer like me and if you add Memorial Day to Cycling - like any good Algebra 2 student can do - you get an awesome three days of racing.


The weekend had started out early, with a flight from Orlando International at 7:00 o’clock Friday morning. That afternoon, Dean and Taylor Warren competed in the Wapello to Burlington road race. They both finished midpack and followed it quickly by a test ride of Snake Alley… Classified as the “crookedest road in the world,” Snake Alley is a one block, 12% grade, 6-switchback-long hill climb. And each year, there is a bike race run up it.

The excitement of lining up with 56 other junior racers to compete in the 2010 Snake Alley Criterium was like no other, but it quickly wore off when I realized I was on the very back of the pack. Callups were based on registration order, and being the faraway-Floridians, we had waited to the last minute to sign up. One racer beside us suggested we “cyclocross it” up to the front at the start. Giggle. With the whistle and a few curb jumps later, I had passed 20 riders in less than 5 seconds (and by the way, it was completely legal, it’s not my fault everyone was scared of the parking lane.) Anyways, a minute later we were at the base of the snake. In the 2nd switchback a rider took a spill just in front of me. Trackstanding for a moment, I had to swerve to the left to avoid crashing into him. Too bad for that kid behind me I cut off, I had just thought, when a voice on my wheel shouted my name. Oops, I guess you don’t get bonus points for cutting off your own teammate. Sorry Taylor. Continuing the suffering to the top of the climb, I shifted into a larger gear to descend and surprised myself at how many guys I was still ahead of. Reaching 30 mph downhill, one of them had just caught me when he entered the 6th turn and slid out before my eyes. My adrenaline rush had already come and gone with the previous crash so I lazily swerved around him and continued on. Compared to the first lap, the rest of the race was rather mundane. Enduring the snake 7 more times with my female competitors nipping at my heels was nowhere near as fun as just the experience of being there. I ended up winning the junior +15 girls and spent the rest of the day dedicated to maxing out my camera’s memory card with over 1,000 photos.

6:20 Sunday morning, my mother and I awoke to realize we were staying in a hotel filled with racers: Cyclists who were perfectly capable of devastating the Super 8 breakfast table with little effort. Getting out of bed earlier than planned, we managed to secure a few waffles and some juice before heading a mile down the road to that day’s course. A one mile long criterium, featuring a long sweeping downhill adorned with a cataclysmic speed bump before the long climb to the finish line. I raced Junior +15, keeping up with the national level boys for nearly a lap before coming out the back. There were a few other girls who stayed on the pack longer than I did but I was able to quickly catch them on the descent. When I got in a group of about 5 guys I realized that I had been to Junior Development Camp with a few of them. Fighting for a wheel, I’m sure they recognized me as that racer who won half the games of knockdown, earning me a few “atta-girls” while I was with them. Later in the day I raced women 1-3, a very interesting experience. Because of some friends in high places, I was able to obtain a top-ten race number, qualifying me for the front line of the race start. However, as I rolled up, I realized the woman beside me had the exact same number as I did. Uh-oh! Apparently because the category 3 were being scored separately from the women 1/2, they had repeated the number system and there were duplicates of every number in the field. Everyone was repined with a new race number before we got on the road but it was practically pointless for me. I stayed with the pro pack for a few laps into the race but a couple minutes after I was dropped, the officials accidentally pulled me from the race, mistaking me for many of the lapped riders I was already ahead of. It was disappointing but I didn’t let it keep me down; the next day was my favorite race of the weekend.

Standing on the start line once again, this time at the Rock Island/Quad Cities Criterium. A steady rain had begun earlier that morning, sending junior and masters racers sliding in the eight turn criterium course. Seeing as my own teammate had gone down a couple of races before, I was anxious not to end the race weekend on a bad note. The previous three days had been a compilation of climbs, descents, and fast cornering, only two of which I had really enjoyed. But now I had the ultimate advantage over the other racers in women 2/3 that day, with flat, fast and wet city street. My strategy for the first lap was simply to be the fastest one through the corners and let everyone else crash behind me. Soon that technique carried over to every lap, racing as hard as I could for my own survival. Midway through the race, a breakaway of 4 women got away and I ended up in a chase group of seven. I didn’t even know we were ahead of the rest of the pack until my mother shouted it from the sidelines. A few women tried to solo away but they were all either caught or crashed themselves out. When it came down the final lap, I found myself sprinting second wheel on the back side of the course, exiting the final corner with my head down until the line. A woman on my left, twice my size, beat me to it by just an inch but I finished 6th overall. Such an exhilarating feeling to end a weekend like that; I can’t wait to go back next year.

(Also published in the May edition of Florida Racing Magazine)

Webster Roubaix

Webster Roubaix is an outstanding event that is legendary for it’s dust, so thick that I have yet to finish cleaning the remnants of 2009 from behind my ears. Hanging out with racers who take pride in having a sparkling clean bike, I absolutely love watching their disgusting faces as they fly by and as I am still a 10 year old at heart, this race is a great opportunity to spend some time playing in the dirt.


In past years, I haven’t had that greatest of finishes at Webster Roubaix. In 2008, at the age of 13, I stayed with the field the entire race only to be crashed out a few hundred meters from the line. 2009 wasn’t my year either, when Dave Viney rode me off his wheel just a couple of miles into the race. But this year, I became determined to win the title of Webster Roubaix champion and to own of one of yhe distinctive, coveted trophies .

From previous experience, I knew a few key tips to succeed in such a difficult race. The number one rule that I kept repeating to my teammates during the day was that you had to be one of the first people on the dirt, because it’s nearly impossible to move up after you’re already in the dust. I also noted that Dave Viney and Julius Aulisio were a couple of masters who I was going to be racing with, that I really needed to keep an eye on in order to stay with the group. I was also racing with Ashlyn Gerber, a great friend but very strong competitor, who I knew was going to be hard to beat that day.

There were 11 women at the start along with the 21 Masters 55+ and 65+ we were also racing with. This included my teammate, Zoe Mullins, who was competing in her first ever womens road race! We started off on the dirt neutral, meaning the actual racing couldn’t commence until everyone was on the pavement. Some people took this as a moment to swap recipes before the attacks started, but I used the time to position myself perfectly in the pack, as in right at the front. From the beginning, the speed was held between 21 to 25 mph and for the first lap of the race, I kept within the top 7 of the peloton. There weren’t any extremely notable attacks and no breakaways but when we got within about a mile of the dirt road you could sense that everyone was gearing up for a hard effort. I knew what I had to do and immediately jumped on Viney’s (Dave Viney) and Jubie’s (Julius Aulisio) wheels after being one of the first through the sandy corner. Viney had a plan for that race, and that was to attack every lap on the dirt section, dragging us through the start/finish at 25 mph, with myself doing everything possible to hold 3rd wheel in the paceline. When we would finally get of the dirt, Viney would pull off and we would all reorganize into a group, though it was significantly smaller every lap than what we had before hitting the dirt. I didn’t quite realize how significant the breaks were until Jubie pulled up beside me while I was sitting about 10th wheel and said that there were 3 women left in the pack including myself and Ashlyn. Surprised, I looked over my shoulder to only find 2 other people behind me in the group. I was guaranteed a podium spot, and just one step closer to that trophy.

We dropped the other lady a lap later, and Viney finally whittled the group down to four riders off of the dirt section with 2 laps to go. I was one of the victims of that lap’s attack, along with Ashlyn and three other masters. We rode all together for a lap and half until some guy came flying by us with one lap to go. I’m thinking to myself “Who on earth is this guy and where did he come from?!?” The first answer I came up with was that we had been lapped by the +45 group and so I shouted not to chase him because he was in a different category. But then a voice behind me said “No we’re not.” Scared me half to death. Apparently out-of-sight/out-of-mind works both ways; for break aways and dropped riders. The woman that we had dropped earlier in the race had teamed up with another master who paced her back up to us. Judging by how much work she must have done to catch up with us, I wasn’t too worried about her at the finish, but still, it scared me there for a second.

As we turned the last corner onto the dirt, Ashlyn attacked. She got a pretty good distance on me, and I tried to chase her down but couldn’t quite catch her. I had almost accepted the second place finish when the group of masters I was with rode past me. Jumping on their wheels, I started gaining ground on her and when the finish line came into sight, we had pulled even. A quick glance over at her, proved that Ashlyn had burned her last match going too early and I continued on past her to the finish. That finish line never looked so welcoming.

It may take another year to completely wash away the dust from 2010 but there is no way to wash away my smile from winning Webster Roubaix.

Miami Cyclocross

As I was watching the Miami cyclocross, it came to my attention that there was a massive, white iceberg floating in the bay behind us. When I pointed it out to my mother however, her response was "You mean that yacht?" "Oh, could've fooled me. It's so cold that I wouldn't be surprised if I started seeing penguins and polar bears too."
Considering that this weekend's race was in Miami, it seems just morally wrong for it to have been as cold as it was. Saturday morning before the race, we were sitting in IHOP eating breakfast and wondering when the rain was going to stop, or at least, when it was going to turn into snow. In preparation for the race we piled on layer after layer of warm clothing; shorts, leg warmers, tights, jersey, arm warmers, jacket, rain jacket, hat, gloves, etc. The only problem came when considering which layer to pin the number to. My warm up consisted of a cycle, huddling around the fire, huddling in the car with the heater on, and huddling around my mother and teammates near the start line. I was actually extremely thankful when the race finally started because it meant we were going to get a little warmer. I sprinted off the line, away from my few opponents and fell in behind my teammate Brandon into the first turn. The cold must have given us both tunnel vision because we almost missed it and we went careening into the marking tape. Aside from that, and a few other mishaps, and excluding the freezing rain and wind, it was a great race. I did not go for a cool down lap.
Have you ever heard the song that goes: "the sun will come out, tomorrow"? Biggest Lie Ever. Sunday was colder, winder, and just as overcast as the day before. The only saving grace was that it wasn't raining, but who needs rain when you've got 20 mph winds and its the coldest day ever in the history of Miami! So we woke up and put on even more clothes than Saturday; Earmuffs, balaclavas, shoe covers, the whole shebang. Again, I couldn't wait for the race to start but the proceedings were held up by a frozen pelican who decided to cross the course right in front of the start line. After a bunch of oohing and ahhing over the bird, we finally got going. It was a mountain biker's type course, with a lot of technical turns, and once I got to the loose rock sections, it was easy to loose my opponents (snicker, snicker). I loved going through the start finish area every lap too. The race promoter had made it mandatory that anyone standing there had to have a free cowbell in their hand and cheer like crazy for every racer who came through. After my race I also made sure to stop in for my free Belgian waffle as well.
It took me an hour of sitting in the car with the heater on full blast to finally thaw out from the weekend and I'm still a little worried that my toes are going to fall off and they already turned blue. (oh wait, that's the nail polish)
CAN'T WAIT TO DO IT AGAIN NEXT WEEKEND!