2005 Sea Otter Classic
2005 Sea Otter Classic, Monterey, California
Sea Otter Road Race
I was excited about this race. Not only would I be going back to where I started bicycle racing in the first place but I would be in one of the prettiest places in California too. I’m writing about the Sea Otter Bicycle Classic held at Laguna Seca Recreation Area in Monterey, California.
Wednesday afternoon, April 13 my wife and I packed up the truck and headed for Salinas. Salinas is a small agricultural town 20 miles away from Monterey. I not only lived in Salinas for a number of years in the 1980s but I met my wife, Esmeralda, there as well. The cool coastal town of Santa Cruz is located just 35 miles up the coast from Salinas and Monterey, and it was in Santa Cruz that I first started racing bicycles after getting my ass handed to me on the Saturday group ride with the Santa Cruz Cycling Club. The Sea Otter Classic is a big event here, drawing thousands of riders for several days of racing; from mountain biking to road racing. My race was Friday morning and I was looking forward to riding with 100, Masters 40+ Cat 5 riders in my division.
Friday morning dawned clear and cool with temperatures in the high 40s but it looked like it would warm nicely during the day, and in fact, temps did go to about 78 degrees by the end of racing. I put on my leg and arm warmers, filled my water bottles (one with a complex carbohydrate drink, the other with water) and set out for the Laguna Seca Race Track. The 49-mile road race actually starts on the Laguna Seca Motorcycle track – a pretty cool way to start the race. After a lap on the track the race heads down a canyon to a hilly 11-mile loop through what used to be an Army base called Fort Ord. My racing packet had my number and a “chip.” The chip attaches to your ankle and sends a signal to the timing device on the course so the race director can get an accurate time for you. I placed the chip on my left ankle and had my wife center my race number on my lower back. Of course, there was no directions as to where to put the race number and racers could be heard all over the parking area asking where exactly to put the number on. The number was big so most put in right in the center of their back like me. We all got to the starting line only to find that the race directors wanted the number on our left side running vertically up our jerseys. This caused a lot of grumbling and consternation but we all helped each other change the numbers to their right position. The Sea Otter Classic is definitely a National event, drawing racers from all over the United States but it also had an international flavor too. Two riders in my group hailed from London, England. They made the long flight out just for this race, and to enjoy the beauty of California’s Central Coast.
We sat on the starting line just back from the regular Cat 5 guys and watched them depart. We were to start in 5 minutes. The announcers joked about how we didn’t look like guys in our 40s. They asked how many had kids – most of us, how many had one, how many had 2, etc. I started thinking that I’ll be in the Masters 50+ next year and that I must actually be one of the oldest in my group – I also started thinking that I may even do better next year but shut that down as “negative” thinking and to get my mind wrapped around the start of this year’s race. The start came and we were off – and I mean off. The group took off at over 25 mph as the excitement of the riding the race track must have gotten the best of us. I did not have time to really warm-up before this race and the quick start was tough. I heard a lot of grumbling about our fast start coming from the group. I breathed a sigh of relief when we exited the track and started down the canyon road for the race loop. The canyon road made a descent and I was able to catch my breath. We made a left turn onto the race loop and right away I was looking at what has to be a 10% or greater climb for 300-400 meters – crap! I knew the race would be hilly as the profile shows a 930’ elevation gain for every lap. I had noticed the nasty little hill on the profile weeks before the race but you’re never really ready for it when you come screaming around a turn with a hundred guys and the damn thing is right in front of you. I geared down and started driving to the top of this hill. Thoughts of, “I’ve got to do this sucker 3 more times,” and “maybe I can just quit now and watch the rest of the race” went through my mind. I quickly dismissed the quitting as I’m not that much of a wuss but the thought that I had to face this hill 3 more times would not leave my mind. My thoughts were interrupted as a racer right behind me just fell over, taking a few riders with him. I don’t really know what happened to him but I think I heard his chain break just before he tipped over. Unbelievably, I was climbing this hill in the top third of the group but taking a quick look behind me, it was obvious that this hill was “shredding” the group as weaker riders were already falling off the back. As already stated in this blog, I am not a climber. My 190lbs makes for a lot of weight to carry up a steep hill – I had reason to be concerned.
We crested the hill and I geared up and dropped into the draft of the group. We thankfully started a short descent and our speed really went up. I can’t say how fast we went in this race. My stupid computer failed during my brief warm-up before the race when the fork sensor clipped one of my spokes and flew off my fork - so I had to ride this race with no electronics. (I later figured out that I averaged 19.6 mph over the course of the race.) Like most masters race groups this one was no exception; we called out sharp turns, whenever we hit the brakes we yelled out slowing, slowing…I’m sure all divisions do this but the Masters group is very good about this as they usually have a lot of experience in racing, if not lately, years before. We move over to the left side of the road as we went through the “feed station.” The feed station in this race was a spot on the course where volunteers were providing water bottles. It’s pretty much water bottle in and water bottle out as we tossed our empty bottles to the right side of the road right after we picked one up from the station. As we were finishing up lap one the rear motorcycle (a CHP motorcycle led the race) with a rider wearing a zebra shirt, obviously an official, came up and started yelling at some of the riders. There was no center-line rule in effect so at first I wasn’t sure what was bothering the official. I had assumed he was bothered by riders crossing the yellow center line of the road but without the center-line rule that couldn’t be the case. It turns out he was yelling at riders wearing numbers that showed they were in the regular Cat 5 race, the same race that started 5 minutes before our race. These riders had been dropped off their race group and were attempting to get back into the action by riding in our draft. This is a no-no. You can’t work with another group in most races and these riders were forced to slow down and drop out of our draft.
We finished the 1st lap with a quick downhill and made the sharp left turn right into the damn 10+% hill again. I tried to take this hill sitting down but I was losing too much ground to the fitter or at least lighter riders. I stood on the pedals and “honked” my way over the crest but noticed that I had dropped to the rear of the main group this time – the hill was making me pay a price. Lap two was pretty uneventful and I was successful in staying with the lead group, sometimes at the rear but a few times in the top 15. But once again, I didn’t have the nerve to go to the front and take my turn pulling the group. By the start of lap 3, and the hill, I was starting to feel the effort of maintaining a high speed over the hilly terrain. The 10+% grade was murder this time. I didn’t have the legs to stand on the pedals so I was just grinding out the grade…and losing ground too. By the time I was almost to the top I fell off the lead group. I had plenty of company, as at least 50 plus riders had been shelled by this hill. I crested the grade and saw the rear motorcycle almost 200 meters ahead of me – damn, I had been dropped! I put my head down and just started pedaling like mad. I used other dropped riders when I could but they didn’t seem or couldn’t maintain the pace we needed to catch up with the pack and I left them behind. It took almost half the lap but I was able pull myself back into the draft of the group at around the feeding zone. I relaxed and tried to recover but deep down I knew I had expended reserves that I was going to need for the finish of this race, let alone lap 4, and that stupid hill.
Sea Otter Road Race
About a kilometer or so before the start of lap 4 I knew I was going to have to do something different or be dropped for sure this time, so I did something different. I shot to the front of the group and even went off the front. The group leaders looked at me strangely, and why not? I had never been to the front of the group the whole race, let alone in the last 10 miles of it. I told one of the leaders that my weighing 190+lbs means that I would need all the lead I could get going into the teeth of the hill. His response was, “Man, you’re a fit 190lbs.” I took the last turn of lap 3 as the leader in the Sea Otter Classic…and it lasted about 3 seconds. The moment I started up the hill the other front riders started blowing past me, I might as well have been standing still. I even warned riders not to ride my wheel as I’m going to be going backwards. One rider was so tired that he literally stopped pedaling and just went over on his left side, and by the sounds of it a couple of riders behind him went down when they ran into him. I survived this crash too but it was obvious that I wasn’t going to make it to the top of the hill before all of the lead riders had passed me by – my strategy had failed. I plodded up the rest of the hill next to another large racer and I heard him mutter, “I wish I was a billy goat.” He was referring to the guys weighing a “buck twenty five” soaking wet and climbing the hill as if to defy gravity. I made it to the top of this killer hill and I couldn’t see any sign of a motorcycle or large group of riders. I tried putting my head down and pedal like mad again but I was just too tired to pull it off. I gave it my best effort over the last 10 mile lap and caught a few stragglers from all groups. I made the turn off for the finish line a mile ahead or so. Damn if they didn’t make the finish uphill, with a 5-8% grade (it was probably only a 2% grade but in my state of mind I might as well have been climbing Mt. Everest.) I finally saw the finish line a few hundred meters ahead and pedaled as hard as I could – I think I was probably making about 4 mph. There was a large crowd at the finish line and they were cheering for me. It actually made me feel pretty foolish as I’m sure my speed had now fallen below walking speed. I even made a comment that I could cross the finish line faster if I got off my bike and walked it across. I heard the little beep as the chip on my left ankle responded to the sensor map. I heard a guy yell out my race number and my time. I had finished in 35th place out of 79 finishers. I believe over 100 started the race but I can’t be sure. The chip worked well; it reported a time of 2:31.22.3 and that I was 7:49 behind the winner. Check out the full results here.
All in all I was very happy with this race. The pageantry of a few thousand racers, vendors, tourist, and families made it a race to remember. The beauty of the area made me wonder why we left the Monterey area in the first place. Of course it might have had something to do with the million dollar houses and the high cost of living but that’s a story for a different type of blog. I now have two weeks to get ready for a race literally in my own backyard – The Devil’s Punchbowl Road Race. This race has even more climbing than the Sea Otter but heck, I’ve got two weeks to lose 20lbs and become a climbing machine.
Sea Otter Road Race
I was excited about this race. Not only would I be going back to where I started bicycle racing in the first place but I would be in one of the prettiest places in California too. I’m writing about the Sea Otter Bicycle Classic held at Laguna Seca Recreation Area in Monterey, California.
Wednesday afternoon, April 13 my wife and I packed up the truck and headed for Salinas. Salinas is a small agricultural town 20 miles away from Monterey. I not only lived in Salinas for a number of years in the 1980s but I met my wife, Esmeralda, there as well. The cool coastal town of Santa Cruz is located just 35 miles up the coast from Salinas and Monterey, and it was in Santa Cruz that I first started racing bicycles after getting my ass handed to me on the Saturday group ride with the Santa Cruz Cycling Club. The Sea Otter Classic is a big event here, drawing thousands of riders for several days of racing; from mountain biking to road racing. My race was Friday morning and I was looking forward to riding with 100, Masters 40+ Cat 5 riders in my division.
Friday morning dawned clear and cool with temperatures in the high 40s but it looked like it would warm nicely during the day, and in fact, temps did go to about 78 degrees by the end of racing. I put on my leg and arm warmers, filled my water bottles (one with a complex carbohydrate drink, the other with water) and set out for the Laguna Seca Race Track. The 49-mile road race actually starts on the Laguna Seca Motorcycle track – a pretty cool way to start the race. After a lap on the track the race heads down a canyon to a hilly 11-mile loop through what used to be an Army base called Fort Ord. My racing packet had my number and a “chip.” The chip attaches to your ankle and sends a signal to the timing device on the course so the race director can get an accurate time for you. I placed the chip on my left ankle and had my wife center my race number on my lower back. Of course, there was no directions as to where to put the race number and racers could be heard all over the parking area asking where exactly to put the number on. The number was big so most put in right in the center of their back like me. We all got to the starting line only to find that the race directors wanted the number on our left side running vertically up our jerseys. This caused a lot of grumbling and consternation but we all helped each other change the numbers to their right position. The Sea Otter Classic is definitely a National event, drawing racers from all over the United States but it also had an international flavor too. Two riders in my group hailed from London, England. They made the long flight out just for this race, and to enjoy the beauty of California’s Central Coast.
We sat on the starting line just back from the regular Cat 5 guys and watched them depart. We were to start in 5 minutes. The announcers joked about how we didn’t look like guys in our 40s. They asked how many had kids – most of us, how many had one, how many had 2, etc. I started thinking that I’ll be in the Masters 50+ next year and that I must actually be one of the oldest in my group – I also started thinking that I may even do better next year but shut that down as “negative” thinking and to get my mind wrapped around the start of this year’s race. The start came and we were off – and I mean off. The group took off at over 25 mph as the excitement of the riding the race track must have gotten the best of us. I did not have time to really warm-up before this race and the quick start was tough. I heard a lot of grumbling about our fast start coming from the group. I breathed a sigh of relief when we exited the track and started down the canyon road for the race loop. The canyon road made a descent and I was able to catch my breath. We made a left turn onto the race loop and right away I was looking at what has to be a 10% or greater climb for 300-400 meters – crap! I knew the race would be hilly as the profile shows a 930’ elevation gain for every lap. I had noticed the nasty little hill on the profile weeks before the race but you’re never really ready for it when you come screaming around a turn with a hundred guys and the damn thing is right in front of you. I geared down and started driving to the top of this hill. Thoughts of, “I’ve got to do this sucker 3 more times,” and “maybe I can just quit now and watch the rest of the race” went through my mind. I quickly dismissed the quitting as I’m not that much of a wuss but the thought that I had to face this hill 3 more times would not leave my mind. My thoughts were interrupted as a racer right behind me just fell over, taking a few riders with him. I don’t really know what happened to him but I think I heard his chain break just before he tipped over. Unbelievably, I was climbing this hill in the top third of the group but taking a quick look behind me, it was obvious that this hill was “shredding” the group as weaker riders were already falling off the back. As already stated in this blog, I am not a climber. My 190lbs makes for a lot of weight to carry up a steep hill – I had reason to be concerned.
We crested the hill and I geared up and dropped into the draft of the group. We thankfully started a short descent and our speed really went up. I can’t say how fast we went in this race. My stupid computer failed during my brief warm-up before the race when the fork sensor clipped one of my spokes and flew off my fork - so I had to ride this race with no electronics. (I later figured out that I averaged 19.6 mph over the course of the race.) Like most masters race groups this one was no exception; we called out sharp turns, whenever we hit the brakes we yelled out slowing, slowing…I’m sure all divisions do this but the Masters group is very good about this as they usually have a lot of experience in racing, if not lately, years before. We move over to the left side of the road as we went through the “feed station.” The feed station in this race was a spot on the course where volunteers were providing water bottles. It’s pretty much water bottle in and water bottle out as we tossed our empty bottles to the right side of the road right after we picked one up from the station. As we were finishing up lap one the rear motorcycle (a CHP motorcycle led the race) with a rider wearing a zebra shirt, obviously an official, came up and started yelling at some of the riders. There was no center-line rule in effect so at first I wasn’t sure what was bothering the official. I had assumed he was bothered by riders crossing the yellow center line of the road but without the center-line rule that couldn’t be the case. It turns out he was yelling at riders wearing numbers that showed they were in the regular Cat 5 race, the same race that started 5 minutes before our race. These riders had been dropped off their race group and were attempting to get back into the action by riding in our draft. This is a no-no. You can’t work with another group in most races and these riders were forced to slow down and drop out of our draft.
We finished the 1st lap with a quick downhill and made the sharp left turn right into the damn 10+% hill again. I tried to take this hill sitting down but I was losing too much ground to the fitter or at least lighter riders. I stood on the pedals and “honked” my way over the crest but noticed that I had dropped to the rear of the main group this time – the hill was making me pay a price. Lap two was pretty uneventful and I was successful in staying with the lead group, sometimes at the rear but a few times in the top 15. But once again, I didn’t have the nerve to go to the front and take my turn pulling the group. By the start of lap 3, and the hill, I was starting to feel the effort of maintaining a high speed over the hilly terrain. The 10+% grade was murder this time. I didn’t have the legs to stand on the pedals so I was just grinding out the grade…and losing ground too. By the time I was almost to the top I fell off the lead group. I had plenty of company, as at least 50 plus riders had been shelled by this hill. I crested the grade and saw the rear motorcycle almost 200 meters ahead of me – damn, I had been dropped! I put my head down and just started pedaling like mad. I used other dropped riders when I could but they didn’t seem or couldn’t maintain the pace we needed to catch up with the pack and I left them behind. It took almost half the lap but I was able pull myself back into the draft of the group at around the feeding zone. I relaxed and tried to recover but deep down I knew I had expended reserves that I was going to need for the finish of this race, let alone lap 4, and that stupid hill.
Sea Otter Road Race
About a kilometer or so before the start of lap 4 I knew I was going to have to do something different or be dropped for sure this time, so I did something different. I shot to the front of the group and even went off the front. The group leaders looked at me strangely, and why not? I had never been to the front of the group the whole race, let alone in the last 10 miles of it. I told one of the leaders that my weighing 190+lbs means that I would need all the lead I could get going into the teeth of the hill. His response was, “Man, you’re a fit 190lbs.” I took the last turn of lap 3 as the leader in the Sea Otter Classic…and it lasted about 3 seconds. The moment I started up the hill the other front riders started blowing past me, I might as well have been standing still. I even warned riders not to ride my wheel as I’m going to be going backwards. One rider was so tired that he literally stopped pedaling and just went over on his left side, and by the sounds of it a couple of riders behind him went down when they ran into him. I survived this crash too but it was obvious that I wasn’t going to make it to the top of the hill before all of the lead riders had passed me by – my strategy had failed. I plodded up the rest of the hill next to another large racer and I heard him mutter, “I wish I was a billy goat.” He was referring to the guys weighing a “buck twenty five” soaking wet and climbing the hill as if to defy gravity. I made it to the top of this killer hill and I couldn’t see any sign of a motorcycle or large group of riders. I tried putting my head down and pedal like mad again but I was just too tired to pull it off. I gave it my best effort over the last 10 mile lap and caught a few stragglers from all groups. I made the turn off for the finish line a mile ahead or so. Damn if they didn’t make the finish uphill, with a 5-8% grade (it was probably only a 2% grade but in my state of mind I might as well have been climbing Mt. Everest.) I finally saw the finish line a few hundred meters ahead and pedaled as hard as I could – I think I was probably making about 4 mph. There was a large crowd at the finish line and they were cheering for me. It actually made me feel pretty foolish as I’m sure my speed had now fallen below walking speed. I even made a comment that I could cross the finish line faster if I got off my bike and walked it across. I heard the little beep as the chip on my left ankle responded to the sensor map. I heard a guy yell out my race number and my time. I had finished in 35th place out of 79 finishers. I believe over 100 started the race but I can’t be sure. The chip worked well; it reported a time of 2:31.22.3 and that I was 7:49 behind the winner. Check out the full results here.
All in all I was very happy with this race. The pageantry of a few thousand racers, vendors, tourist, and families made it a race to remember. The beauty of the area made me wonder why we left the Monterey area in the first place. Of course it might have had something to do with the million dollar houses and the high cost of living but that’s a story for a different type of blog. I now have two weeks to get ready for a race literally in my own backyard – The Devil’s Punchbowl Road Race. This race has even more climbing than the Sea Otter but heck, I’ve got two weeks to lose 20lbs and become a climbing machine.
posted by Bob Grove at 8:26 PM
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