Racing my boss at the NORBA
This past weekend at the Nova NORBA National I wondered in the desert for six hours why a born downhiller would be racing for 81 miles across cactus and arroyo country.
Marla ripping it up. Photo by Paul McKenzie / Clif Bar
Three two-hour laps, two depleted i-Pod libraries, and a brand new Selle Italia saddle that wasn't quite broken in, it wasn't until the last hour after an aspirin and a Red Bull that I started to feel good. Hours earlier I had given up on a shocking win. Left in the dust was the fantasy that I'd make up some time on the eventual winner, Melissa Thomas, on the downhill sections. The whole elevation drop during the 81 mile Marathon event seemed like only 81 feet.
My only motivation to hunker down, to stay on top of my cadence and to maintain a feeble 160 beat per minute heartrate was the fear that my off-the-couch, team director, Paul Mckenzie, would pass me if I eased up even a tiny bit.
Mountain biking even among friends is essentially an exercise in dominance. Every fun ride has the potential to devolve into a race. There was no way I was going to allow Paul bragging rights. He's a nice guy, but he's already my boss. A whole season of listening to him preface every conversation with, "Like that time in Arizona when I kicked your butt," drove me on. For three laps, six hours, he was sometimes as close as ten seconds back. The desire to win; to beat even just a buddy is as elemental as you can get. Out in the desert where life can wilt and die and fossilize, the primacy and the primary of beating Paul merged.
The trail was swoopy. Rolly. Berms and sandy washes, couple of small sneaky rock crops, and on each lap one teeny weeny gravity run. Still the desert's colors were vibrant yellows and oranges. Patches of green from the recent winter rains which had socked the whole west coast. All the colors seemed to clash so I vomited something that looked like my blue recovery drink.
Pedaling steady but unable to generate a cooling breeze. The air under the shade of my helmet visor was salty from my own exertion. My head ached violently. But suffering during that marathon ride was as rewarding as dropping Paul by fifteen minutes on the last glorious lap.
Over the weekend my Luna teammates, Katerina and Shonnny won the short track and the cross country, each with a bike-throwing sprint finish. It's a little early in the season for Alison's taste so she was content to podium in a couple of the stages. Kathy Pruitt, a current downhiller, was for a few laps guns ablaze in the lead group during the short track and did respectable in the time trial, too.
During the mass-start Super Downhill, I caught a lucky break and was able to bridge to the lead group of pro men who pulled me along to a win. Hanging on to the end of that twisty train at thirty mph with Chris Eatough, Adam Craig, and Andreas Hestler was quite cool.
But not nearly as cool as now being able to, for the rest of the season, preface every conversation with Paul with, “Like that time in Arizona when I kicked your butt...”
The Luna Mtbike Team. Photo by Paul McKenzie / Clif Bar
Marla ripping it up. Photo by Paul McKenzie / Clif Bar
Three two-hour laps, two depleted i-Pod libraries, and a brand new Selle Italia saddle that wasn't quite broken in, it wasn't until the last hour after an aspirin and a Red Bull that I started to feel good. Hours earlier I had given up on a shocking win. Left in the dust was the fantasy that I'd make up some time on the eventual winner, Melissa Thomas, on the downhill sections. The whole elevation drop during the 81 mile Marathon event seemed like only 81 feet.
My only motivation to hunker down, to stay on top of my cadence and to maintain a feeble 160 beat per minute heartrate was the fear that my off-the-couch, team director, Paul Mckenzie, would pass me if I eased up even a tiny bit.
Mountain biking even among friends is essentially an exercise in dominance. Every fun ride has the potential to devolve into a race. There was no way I was going to allow Paul bragging rights. He's a nice guy, but he's already my boss. A whole season of listening to him preface every conversation with, "Like that time in Arizona when I kicked your butt," drove me on. For three laps, six hours, he was sometimes as close as ten seconds back. The desire to win; to beat even just a buddy is as elemental as you can get. Out in the desert where life can wilt and die and fossilize, the primacy and the primary of beating Paul merged.
The trail was swoopy. Rolly. Berms and sandy washes, couple of small sneaky rock crops, and on each lap one teeny weeny gravity run. Still the desert's colors were vibrant yellows and oranges. Patches of green from the recent winter rains which had socked the whole west coast. All the colors seemed to clash so I vomited something that looked like my blue recovery drink.
Pedaling steady but unable to generate a cooling breeze. The air under the shade of my helmet visor was salty from my own exertion. My head ached violently. But suffering during that marathon ride was as rewarding as dropping Paul by fifteen minutes on the last glorious lap.
Over the weekend my Luna teammates, Katerina and Shonnny won the short track and the cross country, each with a bike-throwing sprint finish. It's a little early in the season for Alison's taste so she was content to podium in a couple of the stages. Kathy Pruitt, a current downhiller, was for a few laps guns ablaze in the lead group during the short track and did respectable in the time trial, too.
During the mass-start Super Downhill, I caught a lucky break and was able to bridge to the lead group of pro men who pulled me along to a win. Hanging on to the end of that twisty train at thirty mph with Chris Eatough, Adam Craig, and Andreas Hestler was quite cool.
But not nearly as cool as now being able to, for the rest of the season, preface every conversation with Paul with, “Like that time in Arizona when I kicked your butt...”
The Luna Mtbike Team. Photo by Paul McKenzie / Clif Bar
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5 Comments:
Marla I felt the pain and pleasure in that one... you go girl. So do you hurl while riding (like a drunk from a moving vehicle), or do you take a breather so you don't flip over the handle bars and eat #@$%?
Another Redbull, and a Clifbar and I'm sure you would have been ready to do another loop! And I'm sure you probably didn't even slow down to hurl.
So Marla why are you changing careers from a Downhiller to an endurance rider?
Hi Marla,
How do you prepare for racing mentally and physically? Whats your training regiment like as the season approaches...then how does it change once it begins?
Hey Sarah- I switched over because i wanted a new challenge, and I basically suck at endurance events. So there lies the challenge!
And Ian- I prepare mentally by reading the newspaper and putting things into perpsective with the rest of the world. Physically, I use periodized training blocks similar to what the Russians developed years ago. 4 to 1 building to recovery. I'll be writing something about that in the future
Thanks! Marla
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