Rider Diary: Sonya Looney’s Alpac Attack adventure part 2
I had high hopes for the Queen Stage where we’d climb up a volcano and race for 90+ miles. We woke up to near freezing temperatures, pissing rain, and I had a phlemy cough coming from my lungs to boot! I was thankful I brought clothing for all conditions, but I was concerned about the less experienced riders. I questioned the race promoter’s decision to send us over a mountain pass. I said, “ I’m properly equipped to endure the temperatures on the mountain, but don’t you think other less equipped riders will get hypothermia?” He exclaimed, “Yes. It is Patagonia.” And that was it. I was calling him the Argentinian Terminator. He was a smaller guy, but totally ripped and very stern. Our suffering was his great pleasure; a course well done! Later at the start, the Terminator informed us that if there was too much snow on the road to the volcano, they would simply turn us around and make us race an out and back. Ew. Gravel road out and back.
That was the day I mentally crumbled and let misery grab the handlebar and take me for a ride. It doesn’t happen often, but I do sometimes experience mental meltdowns; days where I swear I will quit bike racing forever! My last mental meltdown was a monotonous 100 mile stage at the Mongolia Bike Challenge a couple years ago. Everything looks exactly the same and it was gravel, mostly flat, and windy. Do I see a theme here? Back to Argentina – I had a healthy lead in the womens’ field and I wasn’t 100% healthy so I decided not to race at the front that day and ride with my husband, Matt (who was also attacking the field on other days and riding strong). He saved me and probably could have dropped me if he wanted. He is much stronger on undulating terrain. I was once again exasperated with the race course, but tried to enjoy the dramatic contrast of the bright Fall colors against the dark backdrop of the churning sky, the musty smell of freshly fallen leaves, the wide open views of the river. Sadly, due to the weather, we could not see the volcano or any bigger mountains. I could not pull myself out of the funk. My heart sank around the 4 hour when I saw Yuki and the front of the men’s field riding back in our direction. It confirmed that we would not be riding up the volcano and even worse; we had to go back the way we came. I was an angry hornet mashing away on my pedals, yelling profanities at myself with Matt as my audience. I should draw a cartoon of it, or re-enact it I bet it’d be pretty funny! I was angry with myself for not further researching what the race course would involve, frustrated with road racing every day, for having improper expectations, took personal responsibility for the risk of going to a first year event, and was even more angry with myself that I was so mentally weak that day. I normally say that misery is a choice, and that day I was having difficult time being positive.
Through my frustration, I thought of the people who had been riding in the back of the race each day; the people who were riding many more hours than me, had less recovery time, who rode alone, who had far more patience than I and far more determination. It helped me feel inspired and come around from my dark mental space. The “Pros” and the people who win races normally get all the glory, but I think that’s unfair. The people who are barely finishing each day are the real heroes. They may not be the fastest person, but they do not give up. Those people are tough as nails. That is much more inspiring to me than someone who can rip off a race course in record time.
Stage 5 was the most fun and ironically the shortest. It was in fact the only day we rode by a volcano and it was stunning. The long climb was furious with a steep pitch, a flat section, another steep pitch, etc. It was enough where I could gas it on the steep pitches, but the pack of guys would almost reel me back in when it flattened out. I managed to escape and caught the 2nd and 3rd place guys (Guillermo and Nuno). I took great pleasure in making them hurt! The descent was through Conguillio National Park with ancient Araucaria trees. It was another dirt road, but it was twisty enough to be technical and had a different type of dirt than the ball bearing gravel we had ridden on the last few days. The headwind on the other side of the mountain pass was atrocious; let’s just say that I got a great workout riding in the wind. There were attacks from Nuno and a pack of very strong men along with Wendy Lyall, 2nd place woman keeping the pressure high on the 3 of us. I didn’t have time to mess around with roadie BS so I did a lot of pulling in our little group to keep driving the pace. The finish came down to a sprint between Nuno, Guillermo, and I. I learned that you should really pay attention to how close the finish line is; you don’t want to be in front when you need to sprint! Very rarely have I had sprint finishes in my career and I definitely learned a thing or two. I managed to take 3rd overall in the sprint. Just 20 seconds behind us was the next group!
A portion of the course on the last day had the type of riding I was expecting; a long climb into the mountains, double track that required 4WD vehicles, knee deep ice cold river crossings, and mountains. My chest cold had degraded to the point where I felt like I was breathing air through a straw. My lungs and throat were on fire so again, I backed my pace off and my husband slowed down as well to ride with me. After the fun of the mountains, we were back into gravel road land. This time, the drama came when we saw the lead moto driving back towards us. It barely paused when the Argentinian race director said flatly, “turn around” and drove off. We had just descended quite a long way with a fantastic tailwind. It was demoralizing to turn around. I could only imagine how the guys in the front felt because they were now behind us. I assumed that everyone had missed a turn or that it wasn’t marked. The lead moto had in fact lead us all of course, but we only lost 10-15 minutes. The remainder of the last stage was again a 50 miles of windy, rolling gravel and pavement. I sat behind Matt and just stared at his wheel trying to shut my brain off. The weather moved in as we got closer to the finish line. I yelled to him, “Pulling me on flat windy road is better than diamonds, thank you!” Matt also pointed to the sky and noted that an angry storm was headed our way. About 20 minutes from the final finish line of the race, the rain came down in sheets. It was hard to see in front of us. Instead of getting angry, I simply said, “Oh well.” The final finish line was at a beautiful, remote hot springs. Fortunately, they had an indoor pool. Shivering racers trembled their way into the pool and waited for other to finish. There were a few cases of hypothermia and even one guy(Paul Cooper) who got lost! His attitude as incredible. He was out there the longest, lost, and probably out of food. When the race staff found him and brought him to the finish line, he was smiling and did not complain once.
Even though the race course was not what I was expecting, I am still glad I went to the race. I learned that I should inspect course profiles before signing up for a race (seems like a no brainer, but I normally choose based on the country!). I also got to see the power of the human spirit and the power of attitude. I was inspired by the racers around me and I will remember their choice.
Another primo highlight was that we found a local beer that was actually good! Quilmes was the name of the brewery and they had lager, stout, red, and other choices. Every single one of them was good. That was a big surprise!
Patagonia and I still have unfinished business. I’ll be back, but for an adventure trip. No start line, no finish line; just my bike, a spirit to hunt singletrack and volcanoes, and maybe, just maybe feel that warm Chilean summer sun!
Read Part 1 of the Alpac Attack Stage Race here.
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