I overcooked my road season, completing 26 races by August 1st. I thought I was done, but the late season championship couldn't be missed. Despite little training time, a bike that limped through the end of the season, and cyclocross on the brain, I pulled one more out.
Or should I say two?
With a season that kicked off with four crits in one day, I couldn't help myself, I had to finish it with a pair of 40 mile road races.
Not much to report on a personal note. I didn't do much to prep for this, so I thought I'd just get in and see what happens. As the day got closer, a bunch of teammates were coming out of the woodwork to race the 4s, and I started to wonder if I should save it and just do one? I'd already registered, and I don't have a single DNF in my resume, and I didn't want a DNS.
So, first race: Masters' 30+ 4/5. Slow race, made slower by getting neutralized twice. Lots of complaints in the pack, but a couple of us had called it from the get-go. That's what happens when nobody turns up the heat. I slipped back from the leaders at the foot of the final climb, but stayed in my plan: spin out through 2/3rds of the hill, stand and big ring it for the final kick. It worked, and it got me a lot closer to the contenders, but not among them. 17th.
(In between, we watched Christina get second place in the 4s. Woohoo!)
Next up, cat 4 men. With 7 of us in the mix, we had lots of plans. Or as some WWII General once said, "Plans are useless, planning is indispensable." Stay up front, stay out of trouble, keep a few guys taking turns in the front to keep the pace honest, carry the aegis as the biggest team on the course, and get into position in the miles approaching the final turn. It's not rocket science, but it's one thing to see it on TV, another to pull it off.
I was mostly recovering in the back row, maybe I spent a lap nearing the front, but the final miles had me far from the action. The narrow road, the centerline rule (enforced by the caravan of oncoming 50 mph traffic), and generally having 75 miles in the legs made it impossible for me to be part of the magic, but here's how it went down:
Max was third wheel making the final turn, with no fewer than five teammates in his wake. He did a little kick, then it was on to Daryl, our good luck charm (he rarely gets out since his daughter came along, but he picks good days to do it). Mike took a turn as we came to the midpoint of the hill, no small affair considering he too was doing his second race of the day. Mike get special points for cracking the top ten in the first race AND contributing to the second. After Mike it was down to the final three:
Andrew, Perkins, and Al Pearson, our newest teammate. We can't have two Als, so we christened him Roadhouse. It fits, as he's built like half messenger, half bouncer. It was his first race as a 4, but Perkles was convinced he had the strongest kick, so he was the end of the line.
Unfortunately he touched wheels with Perkins and went down. Hopefully, his nickname won't be Roadrash for long. Andrew heard the carnage and knew he had to hit it, then and there. It was earlier than the spot they marked, but you have to strike while the iron is hot. He goes. Rooster usually doesn't yield an inch of his wheel, but maybe the jump caught him off guard, but he caught back on in a couple seconds. on? ON! and go go go go until there's nothing left in Candles' tank. Andrew starts to fade into the final pitch and Rooster just hammers. I guess his three "big ring" victories at the track last Thursday conditioned him well, because he was gone. He started to fade at the apex, stole a glance to see if a postup was possible...no way, shadow approaching FAST. He dug it out and threw hard to take it by a length.
Man I love this team. Life threw me some curveballs (and hammers, and kitchen sinks) this past year and I countered with 28 races. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it just added to the mix, but even if I turned out to be the only teammate NOT in the train, still, it feels good to be part of this.
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The good photo is courtesy of Luke, naturally. The bad ones are courtesy of my phone. Somebody on this team has to start carrying a camera.
