One of the more appealing aspects of the Zwift program, at least to competitive cyclists and those who harbor a competitive streak, is the sheer volume of Zwift races. There are races every day and at all hours of the day. These races come in every type of form that you could possibly imagine; the length (a few miles to 100km...and more), the type (time trial, road, mountain), the format (stages, crits) are all at your disposal with a simple click of the mouse. My experience in Zwift racing so far is limited; since I am unfamiliar with any racing strategies or protocols, I have, for the most part, kept my distance. I have done a total of five races in about three months with varying degrees of success. Here are my observations.
I approach Zwift racing with the same mindset that I approach my road races; I know I am not going to win, and a victory in my age group is dependant on the skill and fitness of my fellow age group participants, so I go in feeling cautiously pessimistic. I am only looking to put in a relatively good time, not finish dead last, and hopefully have a good overall experience. With this attitude and not much else, I decide to enter a crit race (a crit race is usually a short distance) about ten days into my Zwift life. I am still a category C at this point, this being the third tier of Zwift categories. I show up to the race about ten minutes before and blend in without giving away my rookie status. I notice that the other avatars are spinning their pedals, but I get some kind of warning when I do this, so I stop spinning until the race starts. Big mistake. When the gun goes off, everyone bolts out of the starting gate, leaving me dead last and out of sight of the rest of the pack. I bust my tail for the rest of the race, eventually catching up and even passing a few other racers. I finished about the middle of the pack for my category with a respectable rookie time for a 16km race, 24:07.
With a sense of false confidence, I enter another crit race next week. This race sees my category level improve to B status, and the race I enter is slightly further at 20km. I drop into the starting pens nice and early to get a good spot, and this time I spin my pedals like all the other entrants. Feeling like a seasoned veteran, I look forward to a good start, but the result is much the same as the last race when the gun goes off. I try again to catch up, but the B racers are much better, and I lag behind the whole race, even to the point of getting lapped by the top cyclists. Oh, the horror. Not surprisingly, I finish dead last in my category and finish middle of the pack in the next lowest category. Humiliated, I do not enter another race for about a month.
Still stinging from my poor performance, I see a race in the events queue that piques my interest. There is an upcoming race that categorizes the participants not by watts per kg but by age. Instead of being a deficient B category, I would enter the D category for 60-69-year-olds. I figured my age would help me in this race, and I was somewhat familiar with the course. I entered, figured I had nowhere to go but up.
The race was scheduled to start early in the morning east coast time, so I entered the last minute and made my way directly to the start pens. It is difficult to size up the competition when looking at a bunch of computer-generated avatars. Still, I saw a fair amount of Zwift glowing Tron bikes (you get one if you climb 50000 meters), so I figured I was up against some experienced racers. So again, I just spun my wheels and hoped for the best.
The start saw much the same type of explosion out of the gate, but I found that I recovered quite well and was jockeying mid-pack with a bunch of other riders from all age groups. This gave me a much-needed emotional boost, so I pretty much just put my head down and pushed for all its worth. The race was two laps of mostly flat terrain, with a good-sized hill at about the midway point of the lap. My highly simplistic tactical plan was to try to climb the hill as fast as possible, take a breather on the way down the hill, and just pedal like a madman to the finish line. It worked, sort of. I finished the 43km race in a very respectable 1:07:15. I know that I am not in the last place, so I almost immediately go to Zwift Power, a website that provides a full statistical breakdown of all races on Zwift. I am surprised to find that I am placed in a new category, G, for those 60-69-year-olds, and I am shocked to find a bronze trophy next to my name for finishing third in said category. There were only four participants listed in that category, but still, a trophy is a trophy.
I have since participated in three more age group races, finishing 3rd, 5th, and 2nd in my age group. The course has taken place in the same world with roughly the same terrain, so it is not too surprising that my times have had little variation, a little over an hour for races a little under forty kilometers. The best part about these races is the high relative effort score they produce on Strava. In my last race, my heart rate monitor actually dropped out for several minutes, yet I still got a score of over 110, very high for an activity lasting about an hour.
Even after all these races and time in the saddle, I am no closer to figuring out any kind of pragmatic strategies for effective bike racing than when I started Zwifting. I am happy to score high on Strava and not embarrass myself. Kind of like running. With no t-shirts.
Race on.
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