Kurt Schmid represented Salem Cycle / Comprehensive Racing at the US largest classics race. If this report doesn't make you want to get out a ride, nothing will!
THE BATTENKILL ROUBAIX
This race is billed as "America's Queen of the Classics"; the tag line
did not fail to live up to the hype. The race is set in Upstate New
York near the border of Vermont. The course consists of 62 miles of
pavement, 8 dirt road sections and short, punchy climbs amassing a
total vertical of ~4000 feet. The race is quickly becoming a huge
event as 1500+ racers toed the starting line on Saturday broken into
many different classes. I lined up in the Cat 3 Blue Race, there were
two groups of Cat 3 racers with about 100 riders in each group! This
race will most likely be a UCI race next year attracting the top
European and US Pro teams, much like the Tour of California, etc.
As I pulled into the staging area I saw that some friends from other
teams were in my group. I knew the chance of working together was
slim but it is always nice to have some friendly faces at the start of
an epic race of these proportions. We swung out of town to a large
"send off" crowd of spectators and immediately someone broke off the
front. This break was reeled back in and the next soon took off, we
were in for a long day! The race came back together as we approached
the first paved climb, which lopped off a bunch of riders at the
back. Next was the first dirt section which went straight up a 18%
pitch, I was immediately in my granny gear wishing for an easier
gear. I made it over safely and the group was again narrowed down to
a smaller group and we were only 12 miles into the race. The pressure
was consistently put on the riders by the climbs, dirt sections and
furiously fast paced, paved sections. Over the first half of the race
I looked down at my computer to see we were consistently doing 30 +
MPH on the dirt. One had to make sure to eat and drink enough even
though your stomach was not fully receptive to such things.
The middle of the race was marked by a long stretch of rolling, down
hill pavement. Our once shrinking group picked up all sorts of random
riders that had been separated from their groups as they just wanted
to sit in, out of the wind for a while before the dirt came again.
Usually such mixing of groups would cause all sorts of negative
reactions from the pelaton but on this day all riders seemed to accept
and sympathize with their plight. We all did our best to refuel our
empty tanks with what food and water we had available. The group
rolled down this ten-mile stretch at about 24 mph, which was easy to
maintain as long as you kept your nose out of the wind. It felt as if
this was the calm before the storm, the hardest was still to come for
sure. At long last, I spotted the pace car taking a left onto a
steep, loose gravel, dirt section, no more resting.
The dirt climb was followed by a flat and another dirt climb and then
another and another. At some point I lost count of these climbs, as
they seemed to sucker punch you over and over again, just put your
head down and keep turning the pedals. Our group was now down to
about twenty five or so riders. Finally we reached the top of this
god-forsaken hill and rolled out onto some pavement, then back into
the dirt. The race now plunged down a very soft dirt road at 35+ MPH
and suddenly starting sweeping left. I grabbed a fistful of brake but
got no response! The road was so soft and we were going so fast that
the brakes felt absolutely useless. The people in the front of our
group were able to see the bend coming and get onto the center crown
of the road. The rest of us were not so lucky, swerving and skidding
just to stay upright on our bikes. I was hanging on by a thread and
running out of real estate fast. The only thing I could do was put
one foot down and apply brake pressure with my foot and try to steer
the bike around the turn. I managed to not hit any flailing riders as
I skidded off the road and onto the rocky shoulder. Through pure luck
I did not hit anything and finally pulled the turn off with the help
of the extra room provided by said rocky shoulder. The road continued
to drop down hill and the group was now fifty yards in front of myself
and a few other riders who had been blind-sided by this turn. I
connected with a two guys and the three of us took up the chase
together but we knew we were at a serious disadvantage to the
remaining 20 riders as we were within ten miles of the finish. We
pushed each other hard but never could bridge up to the speeding
pelaton. We gave it our all to the finish line and ended up coming in
24th, 25th and me in 26th, I started the sprint too early and was
passed by my partners at the line, oh well.
It was an amazing race, more like a journey where nothing is left when
you reach the finish line. I hope to make this a spring tradition and
continue to participate in America’s Queen of the Classics!
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