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.
