I really like racing bikes. Training hurts and cuts into my DC socialite schedule. Racing hurts and makes me drive more than I want. Still, I really like racing bikes.
When I rolled into the parking lot in Poolesville this morning, I panicked that I had forgotten my cross bike. That "parking lot" would make for a fun, fast cyclocross course. Focus, Rich, you're writing about a road race.
The Men's 5 race was a smallish field--the final results showed 30 guys. Right off the bat, I felt good about my chances at a top 25 finish. My last two weeks of training were pretty shite what with the rain and all, so top 25 was about all I was expecting. I had a good ride with the group over at HP Thursday night, so I knew I had a little gas in my tank, but how much remained to be seen.
I played yo-yo on the back of the field for the first two eight-mile laps before I decided that was just too much work. On the long back side of the course, I moved up to about eighth wheel. Over the next ten miles, I stayed in the front third of the pack and pulling the group for about a mile. Most importantly, I let off the throttle before I popped. Lesson learned.
So I wheelsurfed around a bit until mile 35 or so, when I jumped up to second wheel. I shared it with another guy--I don't remember what team--and we exchanged a couple of friendly shoulder bumps while we waited for a move to go. In retrospect, I should have tried to bring him with me on my attack. With about 2500m to go, I saw an NCVC guy approach on our right, and he looked strong. Here is my chance, I think. I knew I didn't have enough gas to solo for the win, but I thought if I could trade pulls with one or two other guys, I could stick away from the pack. So I lurch over towards the NCVC guy, and...
me: You wanna have a go? Trade pulls?
NCVC guy: [pause] Uh... yeah, sure.
Great. So I turn on the jets for about 3 seconds and look over my shoulder to make sure I've brought him with me and no one else. Let me tell you how disappointing seeing no one on my wheel was: very. Very disappointing. So I'm all alone and I've got about three seconds on the field with 1500m to go. Well shit, at this point, I may as well make like Andy Schleck at Liege-Bastogne-Liege and just win the race myself. That plan was working swimmingly until I got swarmed with 500m to go. Dammit. So I settled for a 16th place finish with the pack, a pair of burning quads, and a 7 hour traffic-assisted drive to the Outer Banks to round out my Sunday.
I'm at the beach, so of course I'm listening to Girls by the Beastie Boys.
In other news, I went to see a show last week at DC9... 2AM Club. Look 'em up and get on the bandwagon now. It will be full soon enough.
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NCVC guy:[pause] Uh...yeah, sure.
ReplyDeleteThat was sarcasm and his way of telling you you are out of your mind. Trying to get away with 1,500 meters to go in a Cat 5 race takes a lot of luck (i.e., everybody is asleep at the wheel). Heck, it takes a lot of luck in any type of road bike race.
I suppose it's my fault for trying to win. He looked like he could smell the finish line, so I gave him a chance to have a go at it with me. Maybe I'll wait until 1,250m in a Cat 4 the next time I try to escape. But as they say, that's bike racing.
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