Old Caz 'Hopper 2018

[Jim Hewett]

Once again, the Old Cazadero Grasshopper pops up just in time to add a little spice to the early season training.  Never the right thing to be doing in my first periods of base training, this race nonetheless tempts me to go out there and see how things are going.

I have had many top ten finishes on this course, but the competition has been getting deeper every year.  Add to that the decline of fitness that seems to inevitably come with age, and it becomes more and more of a challenge.  At age 46, this is starting to become noticeable.  I had felt especially "not my old self" since Downieville last year, turning in a lack-luster performance at Annadel and a couple of mediocre efforts at CX races.  After taking some time off around Christmas, when my fitness usually hits a yearly low, I was training again.  Old Caz found me with some base hours in my legs, as usual, but without the ability to ever feel recovered.

I showed up on the Trek Crockett disc cyclocross bike I had built recently;  40 x 10-42 gearing with 37mm WTB Riddler tires (43 psi rear, 41 front).  The dirt conditions were a little wet, but the weather on race day was pretty good.

We all rolled out and made the right turn onto Coleman Valley Rd, where the climbing began.  I settled into a pace, keeping my position and moving up a little.  I could feel a little burn in my legs, but knew this effort level had gotten me to the front last year.  I didn't panic when some people came by me, keeping it steady.  As things levelled off a bit, I found I was farther back than I wanted to be, so I came around a few people and tried to bridge up to the large front group.  My legs didn't seem to be recovering from this effort too well, and by the time we turned right on Willow Creek Rd, I found myself surrounded by unfamiliar faces.  Though most of them were breathing way too hard, I couldn't really pull away from them.  By the time we started climbing again, I saw that 20 or so people were pretty much out of sight ahead of us.

Last year at this time, I had been taking turns at the very front of the pack.  It slowly dawned on me that it would be different this year.  We made our way over to the dirt descent on Willow Creek, a full minute behind the front group at this point.  I passed some riders right away and settled in behind a couple of guys that were going fast.  By the bottom of the downhill, one had gotten away and the other had gotten a little ahead.  I bridged up to find that there was no incentive to chase a close group, and also no strength in the legs for it, so he and I waited for a chasing pack of racers that we had passed on the way down.  They caught us just before the right turn on Highway 1, and by 116 we were an unorganized paceline of 15 or so.  I recognized Oakland high school racer Max Macfadden and Pro mountain bike racer Katy Courtney, but the rest were either vaguely familiar or not at all.

I took some pulls, but mainly tried to stay out of the wind.  I could feel my legs were weak, but I hoped the steep climbing would wake them up.  We eventually organized a clumsy echelon.  I heard a noise in the back as some wheels were crossed and looked back to see a guy skid and cross to hit the barbed wire fence on the left of the road. 

A few more people caught us as we made our way over to Duncan's Mill Rd, where there would be some separation on the steeps.  We made the sharp right and hit the gate, pouring through it wherever we could fit like water through a screen.  Last year, at this point I attacked and pulled ahead of the whole field.  This year, I pushed myself to not fall off the back of this group too quickly.  About 8 people slowly pulled away from me on the climbs, but I just couldn't go faster.

They all took a wrong turn just before the singletrack section.  I yelled to them as I entered first into the slippery descent, smiling to myself at my fortune.  With no one in my way, I quickly put a lot of time into the group, hopping logs and ripping around corners.  I found myself alone on the flats, passing a rider with a flat and catching another guy.  I ate and drank to prepare for the Old Cazadero paved climb, about 20 minutes long, that usually gives me trouble. 

Once I started uphill again, it wasn't long before the same group had swallowed me up and spit me out.  Max and Katy were still there, and I recognized John Hunt from Fairfax.  There were 6 or so others.  They slowly moved away from me on the steepest parts, but I pedaled hard and closed the gap to about 10 seconds on the rolling bits.

They reached the Osmo feed station about that much ahead of me, but had to slow due to a bottleneck at the feed.  I came through alone and was handed two bottles pretty smoothly, which allowed me to close the gap even more.  I had been feeling pretty good on the descents, and I knew that a nasty one was coming up.  As soon as we hit the road down to Austin Creek, I started passing.  It was like most of them were in reverse.  It took ten more seconds to make my way to the front and then I once again proceeded to drop the whole group.  I actually caught a couple of people from ahead of us at the creek, and I started up the dirt climb on the other side with them.  There was no sign of my old group behind.

The few people I had caught also pulled away from me slowly, and by the top I could once again see the group closing on me from behind.  I blasted down the paved descent to Cazadero Highway, but was 100 yards off a paceline of 6 or so people, including the riders that had left me on the climb.  I knew I could not catch them, so I ate, drank, and waited.  My old group caught me before we made the left on Austin Creek Rd, where more awkward rotation occurred, with about 4 of us doing most of the work for the whole group.  I was okay for some turns at the front, but my legs were feeling like jello.  I seemed to have a big advantage over this group on the descents, but there were no more descents.  Only pacelining over to the final climb up Willow Creek.

Once we hit the gate before the last 20 minutes of the Willow Creek Climb, all but Max rode away from me.  It was nice to have some company, and I shared some Shot Bloks with him as we tried to ride with some urgency.  We climbed together for awhile, catching a rider and being passed by a couple.  I put in a half-hearted attack, from which he eventually rode back to me.  Max put in a big effort at the very end and beat me by a bike length.

I finished 23rd, with a time of 3 hours 10 minutes (on a shorter course than pre-2017).

Kind of disheartening, but this is where I am right now.  I feel like I am finally bumping into physical limitations based on age, and to some degree life responsibilities, that put me at a significant disadvantage in the elite field.  I will continue with my training plan, which should build more fitness by April, and do my best to seek improvement where I can.  It is still great to be racing!