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Track National Championships were held in Colorado Springs, Colorado at the Seven-Eleven Velodrome. Track racing is something near and dear to me. However, my expectations for this year were a bit mixed considering I had focused so much of my training on performing on the road. In order to reacquaint myself with the nuances of racing on the velodrome, I traveled to Colorado Springs a few days early. The few extra days proved to be critical in preparing my body and mind for the different demands of track racing and the ultimate outcome of racing.
The first event to be contested was the 4-km Individual Pursuit. This event demands precise pacing and an ability to push through constantly intensifying pain that culminates in complete exhaustion in the approximately 5 short minutes the race lasts. I had the goal of completing the race in just under 5 minutes, but when I woke in the morning to 15 mph wind gusts, I knew that was very unlikely. I was pleasantly surprised then to stop the clock in 5:04 on race day, setting a personal best in extremely windy conditions. This was merely seconds off my goal of sub 5 minutes, thus netting the bronze podium spot.  I contested two events the following and final day of Track Nationals, both of which are personal favorites. The Kilometer is said to be the most painful race on a bike. Lasting just over 1-minute, it is a 110% sprint from the word go and generally ends with the rider crossing the finish line incapable of applying force to the pedals let alone formulating a single thought. With heavy legs from racing the day before, I lit the afterburners and was quickly at record breaking speeds. Alas my tired legs could go only so hard for so long. As I limped my way around the track in the final 150-meters, I crossed the line a few tenths of second slower then the US record for my disability. Adding to my medal count for the year my time was good for the bronze medal.
 My final 2010 National Championship race was the crowd favorite, the Team Sprint. The Team Sprint consists of three riders on a team racing together in order to complete 3 laps on the track as fast as they can. My team was most certainly the team to beat and we did not disappoint, logging the fastest time of the day by over 5 seconds. In fitting fashion I concluded my National Championship racing on the top podium step with two of my teammates, as we slid on the National Champion Jerseys signifying we were the best in the business.
In 2010, I have contested 6 different National Championship races, representing a cross-section of cycling disciplines, as wide as the Montana winter is long. In doing so I have had the honor to climb the podium steps all six times, 3 of those trips to be crowned a National Champion, without a doubt this is my best season to date.
Next stop on the calendar is the Para-cycling Road World Championship in Quebec, Canada.
June 23rd was kicked off by a nice walk to a park in Bend with Sara and Amelia for some family time. Still riding a high from winning the road race, I was yet to be preoccupied with the criterium race. As I listened to Amelia’s infectious giggle slipping from her toothy grin, I was reminded of just how blessed I am to be doing something I absolutely love while surrounded and supported by my family.
On the walk back to the “para house” Sara snapped me back to race mode, asking how I expected the criterium to go. While I felt very confident in my ability to win the race, I did not want to take for granted the potential of the other racers and all the hard work I knew they had done to be at their best. Clearly, after the road race I would be heavily marked. Consequently, my objective was to assume control of the pace: tactfully riding at the front when I wanted to, while letting others do the work when I did not.
Just prior to Amelia’s afternoon nap, Sara and I rolled the Kavy mobile down to the start line and set up base camp at the Start/Finish. With 2 hours before the start, I casually went about prepping my bike and myself for the day’s task. An hour out, I began rolling around the neighborhood to loosen my legs up, clear my mind, and begin visualizing my perfect race. Thirty minutes out is game-time in my criterium book. Given the high-speed sprint-heavy nature of crit racing, there is no time for easing into the race once the gun goes off. Because we were the first race of the day, I was able to spend the final 30 minutes rolling the course memorizing each corner. Logging away in my mind how hard I could push the speed through the apexes; noting at what speed I could pedal through the corners; where would an attack be the most explosive; finally where was I most vulnerable? I quickly swung by the van for a final swig of water and a Hammer gel shot. A few hot laps on the course testing the technical spots at full speed found me on the start line. Thirty minutes earlier I was a cold engine groaning at that first application of the gas pedal. But now, the heat that radiated from within my legs was ticking and pinging like that of a race car’s engine. Fuel lines were charged and I was teaming with excitement to bury the gas pedal to the floor.
I wanted to take control of the race in the first 100 meters before we hit two hard-right-hand turns. In order to make sure I was first to the corners I chose the outside lane on the start line, giving me the most direct path into the first corner. However, the big key was a flawless click into my pedals before hitting the gas full tilt.
Up and out of the saddle as we exited the second hard right, I twisted the throttle making sure no one could come around me. In seconds we would be diving into the most technical portion of the coarse consisting of a 90-deg left into short downhill 90-deg right immediately followed by a 90-deg right on to a narrowing steep up hill. Once over the rise it was a series of soft rights onto the home stretch. I kept this quickened pace on the front for the first two laps before sliding off the front and allowing the other riders to take their turns on the front. Two more laps down, it was back to the front, pushing the pace feeling out the other riders’ abilities to charge the technical spots on the coarse.
 Heidi Swift A great aspect of crit racing is how spectator friendly they are. It was nice to see the neighborhood turning out to watch and cheer us on as we weaved our way through the streets. With each lap you could feel the fans cheering and encouragement boosting the race speed while deepening my hunger to win.
 Heidi Swift I knew in my mind that if I could keep the race together until the final home straight sprint, my chances to win were very good. However, I also knew the chance of getting caught up in a wreck or having a mechanical in a mad gallop for the finish was not only risky, but could have a lasting impact on my ability to race the time trial the next day. Crossing through the finish with 4 laps to go, I began the final chapter of my race. Having ridden on the front for the bulk of the race it was time to position myself in the pack to help conceal my ultimate attack on the field. As we slid through the first right hander after the finish line, I purposely drifted wide, forcing the rider behind me into the lead against his will. I quickly tucked in behind him and diligently followed his every move as he attempted to shake his way off the front. As if exclaiming his disapproval with being on the front, the other rider eased off the gas as we slowed to our lowest speeds of the race. Unfortunately for him, he was right where I wanted him, doing just what I had expected he would do. Back under the finishing banner rolling at a sightseers pace the riders around me appeared to be resting for the looming finish line sprint.
As the other rider led the pack through the second right of the course, I made my move. With a quick flick of the wheel I dove inside and went full gas. My heart leapt through my chest as my front wheel broke loose skidding sideways as if I was on washboard gravel roads. Then, as if it had never happened, my tire hooked up and I was off. For 12 laps I had been prepping for this moment. One bike length grew to two, then three, as I exploded into the pedals. Having tested my limits through the technical portion of the course earlier in the day, I now precisely dove through each corner sprinting up and out of the saddle when I could.
 Heidi Swift One lap down with two to go I was up 5 seconds on the chasers. With each corner and screaming encouragement, my energy level soared as did my lead. With two laps down and the final lap bell ringing in my ear I glanced back between my legs to monitor my gap…I was a comfortable 10 seconds up in full control of the race. Knowing the only thing standing between me and my second National Championship title in two days was a crash, I eased up on the corners and began taking in the sweetness of my surroundings. As I pulled onto the long finishing straight I glanced back one last time. Nothing was behind me…I zipped my jersey…looked into the crowd to find Sara and coasted across with arms raised high.
Tuesday June 22 was a special day for many reasons, for one it was race day but equally important it was Amelia’s first birthday. Knowing Amelia would most likely not remember any average gift I could give her I set about earning her a special gift, a Stars and Stripes National Champion Jersey. While the road race included a chunk of climbing in the profile I have worked very hard this past year to minimize my aversion to hills. Because the hills were short and punchy I knew I had the power to get up them with the leaders and so long as I could keep the pace reigned in I would have a good shot at attacking late in the game and/or taking the field sprint. On the line it was big boost to look over and see my beautiful wife and daughter there to cheer me on, Sara has not seen me race since 2008 and now I had my whole family there…and then we were off.
The road race was scheduled to be 55km meaning we would do 10 laps of the outer course before heading back into the finish. My game plan was to do my best to keep the pace stiff when I was vulnerable to attacks and then lead the group through the technical portions. As the laps ticked by my legs felt good and I was comfortably playing out my game plan, the next step was to push the pace and throw in a soft attack to see how the group would respond.
As we cruised through a particular rolling portion of the course I put in a short dig quickly opening up a small gap, as I was only trying to feel out the group and with over 20 km of racing to go I was content to let the group catch me after a quick dig. With this new information I began accessing how I wanted to play out my bid for the win.
I had decided that on the final circuit lap I was going to hit the gas pretty hard just before toping out on the steepest pitch of the race in hopes of drawing out a select group that could then work together until the closing couple kilometers and then make a solo push as we raced back to the finish line…and then it all changed. As we came racing into the round-a-bout that diverted us on to another lap the race officials was pointing for us to head home a lap early. Suddenly, there I was in the lead heavily marked with the entire lead group intact and a few short minutes from the finishing stretch.
In general one of the worst places to attack a group from is at the front because everyone can see what you are doing. As we rolled in the final kilometers my head was awash in the best tactic to play. I tried to slide back in the group but everyone would just slow completely content on letting me make the first move.
Rolling through the 1-km banner I prepared myself to make my attack from the front and then I heard it…Justin Wess, an unknown rider to me, jumped. Immediately, I punched my lead out ticket and grabbed his wheel as he slid by me on the left. With the pace picking up I was able to grab a few more gears and get into the sweet spot of my gearing for the sprint. Justin began to slow at 500-meters, something I had anticipated as 1-km out is a long way to go full gas, with a 90-deg right hander looming ahead 150 meters before the finish I pounced leaping past a deflated Justin. In the matter of a few calculated revolutions of the pedals I was free and clear of the group…carving through the right hander I was up and out of the saddle sprinting to full speed. With the finish in full view, Sara screaming on the sideline I slipped a look between my legs to check my gap…I was free and clear with plenty of time to sit up coasting across the line arm raised…Happy Birthday Amelia.
 
The past month has been a wild one of travel, adventure, racing and triumph on and off the bike. June began with a whirl wind trip to Austin, TX to pick up the new to us Kavy Adventure Wagon. After years of pondering Sara and I made the bold dive and purchased a Sprinter Van that had been converted by Sportsmobile into an RV. This purchase was made for many reasons but none so important as helping facilitate Sara and Amelia joining me in my travels as I speak and race across the states.
The maiden voyage in the Sprinter was entirely utility in getting the vehicle back to Bozeman in time for our departure to Bend, OR for the 2010 US Cycling Road National Championships. Two things that were evident in this first trip in the new ride were that the Sprinter was the perfect family ticket to destinations unknown and that Texas is crazy big and I must admit bit boring. Thanks to a brief pause in Denver to catch up with Dallas and Josh as well as log some miles on the dirt the trip was bearable.
Back in Bozeman for the mad scramble to kit out the Sprinter began. Packing and repacking became a daily norm as we stuffed it with necessities, and possibly a few kitchen sinks, for 2 weeks on the road. In total we managed to fit in Amelia’s haul of equipement, hiking gear, all my race gear including two bikes, and alas the family while still managing to see out that back window. The Sprinter can swallow some gear which I must admit post trip is a bit overwhelming when it comes to unloading it all. The itinerary for our trip would include a stop in the Seattle area to visit family and do a little work and then move on to the coast via the Olympic Pennisula for some family fun and exploring while I polished of my training for Nationals, our ulimate destination in Bend, OR.
Nationals would conclude my 2010 bid to be selected to the US Para-cycling World Championship Team as well as an attempt to be crowned a National Champion. I was registered to contest 3 different events: The road race on 6/22, the criterium on 6/23 and the TT on 6/25.
Departing on 6/10 we made our push to Seattle/Bainbridge celebrating, my cousin, Jackson’s graduation from high school and my sister’s pending wedding with a shower. With 4 days of RV’ing under our belts in the safety of my uncle’s driveway we shoved off for the unknown and a little boondocking. We first stayed at Crescent Lake in Olympic National Park were Amelia tasted were first pine cone and some good old dirt. Then it was off to the Hoh River Rainforest were Sara packed a sleeping Amelia on an 8 mile hiking journey of the river valley ala Kavy style adorned in shorts and Chaco’s as the suburbanites decked in REI purchases scoffed at our preparedness.  
We closed our time in the Olympic National Park with a brilliant night perched above the Pacific Ocean. Sara and I relished in the fresh air and sense of adventure; completely removed from cell phones, internet and outside distractions.
Not forgetting about racing I slipped away for a few rides along the cost adhering to my detailed training plan of alternating hard days with easy days. Amelia was as sweet as ever adjusting to life in the Sprinter with little complaint. These few days of just the three of us were just what we had hoped for allowing us to reconnect as a family and enjoy some of the finer things this life affords us.
As our route led us closer to Bend we stopped off in Cannon Beach, OR to join friends in the 47th Annual Sand Castle competition. Despite being complete amateurs, our team of builders managed to impress the judges with our recreation of JAWS capturing the “I can’t believe Sand can do that” award.
Sunday, June 20th broke a bit soggy in Cannon Beach as we embarked on our final push from the coast inland to Bend, OR. Hours later having climbed to the high desert of Eastern Cascades we pulled the Sprinter into the Para-cycling headquarters for the National Championships. Sara quickly busied herself in her new roll of Team Mom, cooking team meals, shopping, and generally keeping us all on task for racing. I joked once before that when I was first invited to race the World Championship in 2006 I thought the invite was for Sara because of how much work she did for the racers. As always her impeccable planning, organization and general commitment to me and the rest of the team could not be overstated in helping us all arrive on race day in peak form.
In the days leading up to racing we previewed the various race venues. The road race was going to utilize a lollipop route that included 5 km circuit offering a few punchy climbs that would total nearly 1000 feet of climbing over the duration of the race. The climbs came early on in the circuit loop and were short and punchy in nature lasting no more than a minute or two, with the final climb immediately followed by a fast downhill in to a sweeping left hander which made for a good adrenalin rush. As for the TT it was an out and back coarse 24km in length that demanded the rider tackle 600+ feet of climbing on the way out. The beginning of the coarse was on newly paved roads but shortly after the climb started the surface diminished to typical mountain road pavement, that is to say it was rough, bumpy, and riddled with potholes. My initial impressions were the coarse was going to be a big test not only in fitness but bike handling especially on the way back when speeds would exceed 40 mph in the aero bars. The criterium coarse was set in the Northwest Crossings neighborhood of Bend consisting of a short and tight turn filled 1-km loop on new pavement, making it a great venue not only to watch but also to race.
As race day neared anticipation was high in the house with each athlete actively resting in peak form ready for the gun to go off. Each of us had arrived here in hopes of being selected for the 2010 World Championship Team as well as a desire to walk away National Champions. Competition would be high over the next few days.
For all purposes, my results in Spain had exceeded all of my expectations.
As we loaded the vans and head north for France, I found myself in an unusual state of confidence, satisfaction, and for the first time in a long while, I was not dreaming of winning. Rather, I was planning on how I could win. It may come as a surprise to some of you that I would be struggling at all with the thought of not being able to win. But the truth is winning at the top level has been something that has had me a bit scared these last few years…so much so that on occasion I have likely defeated myself mentally before the start clock even begins the countdown. Spain was changing that for me…settled into our French hotel I was awash in the joy of getting to race my bike not as a follower but as a leader for the win.
The first day of racing consisted of a very non-paralympic road course. “Non” because of the sustained climbs in the profile. Not known for my climbing, stage one caused my greatest deal of pause and concern. As I rolled to the line, for once my mind was not reflecting on the “what if’s” of getting dropped, but rather the “how to’s” of making the lead break. To execute my plan, I made sure that at the base of the major climb I was riding in the top couple of riders. I would then set a hard tempo pace lifting my speed only when necessary to follow the fastest group. In the first 4 of 8 trips up the climb, this approach had me digging deep but still within my abilities, and I was comfortably with the leaders. As the race wore on, the pace slowed a bit with each climb to the point I was moving to phase 2 of my plan…positioning myself for a chance at winning the stage… and then I was robbed of it.
A few kilometers from the base of the climb, while driving the pace on the front, we were suddenly blocked by an official’s vehicle pulling perpendicular to the road, while someone hung out the window screaming in French. Not having anyway to avoid the vehicle nor understanding what was being yelled, I was forced to stop and unclip as I helplessly watched the riders behind me squirt by on the shoulder/ditches of the road. Once the leaders saw that some of us had been held up by the official, the attack was on. Just as fast as I had been stalled from racing, the official car was gone as if nothing had happened, leaving me to frantically chase. Despite my best efforts and snagging the back of the lead group at the base of the climb, my solo attempt to bridge the gap left me drained. Extremely upset that my chance at winning had been stolen from me, I soldiered on to the finish line and immediately expressed my desire to petition the outcome.
As I expressed my disgust over the events that unfolded to my coach, I must admit I was very doubtful it would result in any correction from the officials. However, after a literal dramatic reenactment of what unfolded on the road, necessary to bridge the language barrier, our coach Adam returned pleased to inform me that the officials would credit me with the lead groups finish time. Despite missing a chance at the stage win, my hopes for the overall were still alive.
What unfolded over the next two days will certainly be logged away as defining moments in my 2010 season. Saturday was a double day of racing with a short TT (time trial) in the morning followed by a technical circuit race in the afternoon.
At the start of the TT there was a 5-way tie for first in the GC (general classification), but after 8.6 km of racing there was going to be one leader. As the clock counted down to my start, my mission was very clear: take the lead. Moments into the TT, I was faced with a brief moment of doubt as the first hill’s poison ran its course through my legs. In time, pushing though that pain is also a masochistic measure of agood ride… so I begged for more. Eleven short minutes after the start, I steamed across the finish mentally and physically exhausted knowing nothing more than, I had done all I could do. As it would turn out, in those 8.6 km I was putting my stamp on the race, having won the stage while netting a 32 second lead on GC.
Thrilled with the morning’s outcome I was confident in my ability to preserve my lead during the 3rd stage. I did not, however, expect to be racing in a near biblical rainstorm. Nor had I anticipated crashing on a technical corner and then chasing to minimize my losses preserving my lead by an ever-so-small 8 seconds.
While crashing had certainly not been in the plans on Saturday, there was no way I could afford such a mishap in the final race and win the overall….that is unless you have great teammates. Rarely do we, team USA, have the luxury of having teammates to race with in International events. But on Sunday, thanks to the organizers grouping like-disability fields together, I was at the start line with two strong/dedicated teammates, Greta and Aaron. You can imagine my joy, when I saw Greta and Aaron sit up out of lead pack, as I slid across the pavement on the rain slickened corner shredding my shorts and muddying the leaders jersey. As the seconds ticked by and I watched the threats to my overall riding away, Greta was calmly counseling me to collect myself and get ready to win a race.
Back on the bike, and tucked in tight behind Greta and Aaron, team USA went to work voluntarily diving head first into the pain cave with no regard to how deep they may be asked to go. Their selfless desire to help, and unshakable confidence in my ability to win the race infused me with energy far beyond a gel shot or energy drink. This internal surge swelled within me as Greta gave me a final shove back into the lead bunch. Later, as the final meters of the bike race unfolded in front of me, I exploded onto the pedals not hoping to win someday but knowing I could win that day.
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