Race Report: 2024 Copperopolis Road Race - Men’s Cat 4
Race: Copperopolis Road Race — Men’s Cat 4
Date: March 30, 2024
AVRT Racers: Zack Berger
Top Results: Zack (3/10)
Course: 3 counter-clockwise laps of a 21 mile, 1800 ft elevation route with iconically bad pave and potholes. The elevation is front loaded into the first 6 miles of the course, with rollers leading up to a 2 mile climb at 5%. After the hill is a 9 mile plateau around a lake, 200 ft climb, and then a bone-jarring, bike-mangling 5 mile descent before a 0.6 mile drag at 3% up to the finish. This year’s wind made it very difficult to catch a draft on the plateau.
Strava: https://www.strava.com/activities/11071736493
Nutrition: 5 Gu gels, 1 bottle of water, 2.5 bottles each with 1 scoop of Tailwind Endurance Fuel and a ½ cup of Carbo Gain (~80g carbs).
Recap
When I decided to start racing last year, the next event on the calendar was Copperopolis. I asked around, “Should this be my first race?” I heard a resounding “No! That would be insane!” Fast forward to 2024. Copperopolis has lingered in my mind, gnawed at me. I’d have to try it.
Well aware of the horror stories of this race, I had three goals.
Come out unscathed.
Protect my bike rental (more on my gear below).
Finish (ideally on the podium).
I entered the race with no teammates. My strategy was to sit in on the first lap, then push the pace on the second lap main climb to whittle down the field. On lap three, if the field was still together, I’d try to launch an attack on the final climb into the descent. If not, I’d try to break away solo on the main climb (since everyone would be strung out at that point).
Lap 1. There’s a five inch road-wide puddle on the way to the main climb. We blast through it and suddenly my feet are drenched. The climb begins and although we’re at my sweet spot, I didn’t get a proper warmup, so it feels difficult. Ten minutes into the race I look down and watch one of my bottles bounce out of its cage. Copperopolis is off to a great start.
The field crests over the climb into the plateau. The way the winds are crossing the field makes it difficult to catch a draft. The rollers are hard, requiring me to spike past 600W. Although I’m not thirsty, I force myself to drink from my other bottle in case I lose it to the road. One rider falls off the back, so we’re down to nine.
I push hard to be one of the first into the descent. Immediately my chain starts slapping around and I realize, “If I don’t pedal this thing will fall off.” The vibrations shock throughout my body, but I force myself to pedal through it. Then my other bottle flies out of its cage. Damn it. But I’m not too worried, since I forced myself to drink from it. Three riders — one unattached, one Velo Kings, one Dolce Vita — bomb past me and out of sight.
I feel relief as I hit the bottom. I see the three riders gained a 30 second gap up ahead. Two riders work with me to catch the front group. One is an unattached rider who previously refused to take any pulls, but now recognizes the situation we find ourselves in. The other is a Velo Kings rider who is fortunately alright chasing his teammate.
Lap 2. As we come to the bottom of the climb, I jump off to bridge. En route I grab a bottle from the feed (shoutout to Roger, who held two for me with nutrition). The Velo Kings rider joins me in the front group, creating five.
I introduce myself and suggest we work together to break off the rest of the field. Everyone agrees. We pace ~50W faster than the last climb and reach the plateau. Only four of us make it over together — me, one Velo Kings, one Dolce Vita, and the unattached rider.
On the plateau we begin pacelining. Yet, my legs feel like they’re going to fall off. It’s hard to hang on, and every time I’m on the front I can barely make it over in the rotation. The other three think I didn’t know how to ride a paceline and start explaining it to me. Embarrassed, I relay that I’m tired, and go to sit on the back. Just before the turnaround, the unattached rider pushes hard on the front. I’m above threshold, and can’t keep on in the draft. The three of them slink away around the turn.
It’s time to reorient my goals. I probably can’t win the race — three stronger riders, who are more comfortable on the descent, are up the field. But, maybe one of them will crack. Maybe one of them will get a mechanical. Maybe the podium isn’t out of reach. I decide to keep steady at my limit, stay away from the rest of the field solo, and maybe get lucky.
I know I’ll lose time on the descent, so go harder than before, flirting with my comfort zone. I make it to the bottom and pedal fast to the final lap.
Lap 3. My right hamstring starts cramping. I grab my last bottle at the feed and immediately start drinking. I grab two gels from my pocket, suck them down, then start up the climb at a steady pace. The cramp is pervasive. But it’s manageable. I can see a motorbike, so guess that I’m not too far off the front three.
By the time I get to the top and onto the plateau, I can see the rider from Velo Kings up the road. The unattached rider and Dolce Vita guy are out of sight. I chatted with them after the race — apparently they attacked and gapped the Velo Kings rider by several minutes.
My race becomes about passing the rider from Velo Kings. As he turns the corner, I start counting: 1, 2, 3, … 45 seconds ahead. I make the turnaround, 10 miles left in my race.
Everything is hurting. My leg is cramping. Then it starts raining. I can’t see out of my glasses, so I grab them to put in my pocket. Just as I take them off, I smack a pothole and lose them to the road. No worries — that can be replaced. More rain, more cramps. And this damn gap isn’t closing.
I continue forward. More rain. Just as I think, “this rain really hurts,” I realize it’s hailing! The gap isn’t closing. But, at this point I’ve sunk hundreds of dollars into the race, so continue steadily.
I approach the final climb, and something magical happens. For the first time, the distance between the Velo Kings rider and I begins to shrink. And it’s shrinking fast. He cracked! I’m actually going to catch him. I decide to blast past him so fast he won’t even try to counter.
I up it to VO2 Max for one last effort, fly past him, and after 15 seconds, look back — he didn’t follow. I keep on the gas and crest over for the final descent. I pedal through and make it to the bottom. Third is mine to lose.
For the last hour my brain put up a defense mechanism to ignore my cramps. 1.5km to go with the finish line in sight and my brain just turns off. My right leg begins spasming, refusing to go forward. I can’t pedal, and my wattage drops to 0. I look back and can see the rider from Velo Kings. Not now. I want this. I unclip my right pedal and start mashing forward with just my left. This isn’t sustainable, so I spend a few seconds stretching. But the rider from Velo Kings is gaining on me. I mentally push past the cramp and slap my right foot back in. My leg feels like it’s tearing at the seam. I get past the 1km line — he’s gaining on me. Just push through the pain and spasming. 500m to go, then 200m.
I roll past the finish, get off my bike and lie down.
This was the most mentally and physically difficult 3.5 hours of my life. Am I glad I did it? Yes. Would I do it again? I’d be crazy if I did.
