It starts like almost all the others… race jitters and a restless nights sleep. The anxiety of racing is about the only thing that can break my daily hibernation most refer to as sleep. Race day breakfast, (1) CPK Frozen thin crust pizza, heated of course - 960 calories. One large glass of OJ, no pulp – 200 calories.
Mike has a family emergency and has canceled. A call to Dustin and Elmar the night before but come up empty… I get to share my jitters and resultant gas with no one, damn! Car is packed and I leave the city around 5:30. It’s 5:40, I’m on the bridge and realize my wallet, and license are still at home. Great… after a fortunate u-turn on Treasure Island a half dozen other excuses pop in to my head on the way back to the house as to why I should climb back in bed. I convince myself that I’ve already committed to the day by downing an entire pizza. Wallet, money, license, got them, back on the road.
Almost the entire drive is in the dark. At about Patterson Pass I hit some dense fog. It’s rained heavy the day before and a little over night. The fog is so dense traffic on the 5 slows to about 30 mph. The fog thins by the time I get to Patterson.
Race number in hand, I’ve got 45 mins to warm up. Luckily there’s the exact proportional amount of mud to water on the road that kicks up about a 3ft rooster tail of brown goop with just the proper viscosity and trajectory to lay a 4” streaker up the back side of my shorts. After about 30 minutes, I feel pretty.
Back at the car again and I notice my front tire is flat. Luckily I had taken my saddlebag off my bike while putting the bike on the car. It conveniently is sitting on a shelf in my garage. Hmmm, I’m having one of those mornings…. 5 minutes until start time, but this is Velo Promo, I know I have a solid 15-20 minutes. With some help, I make it to the start line with 10 minutes to spare.
Race is off, and after the neutral start two guys are off the front, slightly, and over the next 10 miles or so stay about a half mile or so in front of the group. I’m guessing they were wondering what the hell everyone was doing, as the group made absolutely no attempt to bring them back. I just hung out in the back, enjoy the leisurely warm up, and added another 2” in length to my streak. Yes, I checked often.
Somewhere around mile 12 the group is all back together again. I’m still hanging out in the back, having small talk with who ever will share some. A few attempts at a break away happen up front, but the group reels them back in fairly quickly. I’m getting yo-yo’d at the back of the pack, and hit AT2 once or twice as we reorganize. It’s clear to me no one is going anywhere until the real climbing starts. At around mile 16 I make my way to the middle of the field and hold, I know we’ve got a little more than two miles of over 8% climbing coming up, yippy! The group hits THE turn, and the road kicks upward. Ahhhh, I love hills. I hold my ground in the middle to see what will unfold. The wheezing has begun all around me. I take a quick peek at my HR and I’m only at 80%. I drift to the front and pick up the pace to put a little distance on the main field. There are a couple guys off the front and I slow my pace to regroup with a couple of them. Only two guys have made it away from main field to join me. I know we’ll need distance if the three of us are to survive to the finish line. I pick up the pace again, but my two compatriots are falling back. I ease off again hoping some more guys will jump to the carrot that is only a 100 yards or so in front of them. It doesn’t happen.
I summit and hit the turn around about 50 yards in front of my 2 Webcore chasers. The main field is another 200 yards back. I get to bomb the descent, maybe a little to fast for the conditions. At one point I brake hard only to do a slight front wheel wheelie. About half way down I’ve caught up to a chase car heading in my direction. It’s driving at about 20 mph. I’m lucky and pass without having to tap my brakes.
Back in the flats, solo, with no one in site for as far as I can see behind me. They’ve gotten caught behind the descending chase car…. I hang out in the drops pushing for a while, but don’t really want to attempt an 18 miles solo. I ease off again, until I see a chase group behind. It’s the Webcore crew and they’ve got a nice pace line going. I slow and wait for them. As they approach i get the, “Keep Going” callout. I think to myself, yeah right, I’ve been out here solo for 8 miles already. I’m going to suck your wheels for a while, so get pulling. I hop on the back and we’re off.
The main field is holding steady, a ¼ mile or so behind us for about 3-4 miles. At one point I sit up and ask if they want to keep pushing. A chase group of about a dozen or so guys in a few hundred yards back, and I’m assuming they are just reeling us in ever so slowly, we still have 10 or so miles. My suggestion is to wait for the group, but after a brief discussion, we opt to push a little further. We get in about three more rotations, and we’re sucked back in. I’m wondering how my streak looks?
Ok, we’re at least 12 or so guys now and I drift to the back to recover a little. It takes us a mile or so to reorganize back in to a pace line, but it eventually happens, reluctantly.
Boom! A Godspeed racer is off the front with about six miles to go, solo. I grin and wait for his demise… At the 1 km mark the group is on him, and I can hear Phil Leggett lament. We start to get strung out as the pace accelerates. I feel as if I’ve only ridden 20 flat miles. One of my Webcore buds jumps at about the 500 m mark. There are quickly six or so wolves behind him. I catch a Mouse signaling to his teammate to get on his wheel and the two accelerate past the Webcore racer. We’re at about 350 meters, and I ease in behind them. The lead man starts to gap his teammate so I step in and pull up beside him. This guy was so focused, that for 30 meters I ride right next to him staring, waiting for him to jump… I never get a glance. Nothing happens, so I go with about 250 meters. At 100 meters I look over my shoulder, the field is 50 meters back. With about 50 meters left my sprint starts to fade so I give it one more look, they’re 75 meters back. I raise my arms, give my solute, and coast in.
--
Chris K.
Friday, January 30, 2009
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)