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Road Race
Before I begin, I would first like to send out a special
shout-out of respect to all those MV riders who had
to start at 11am or after. It would be safe to say that
the P,1,2,3 and Master’s 30+ had the easiest races
of the day. Anyone who was at the race site knows the
mercury was rising to exhausting levels by 10:30am and
those who started later than that, one of which, my
boy and fellow MV’er Jeff Glatstein, who was cajoled
into doing the cat 5 race the night before by yours
truly, had a very sauna-like experience. I gladly yield
my spot under the little coconut-cabana water tree thing
to you mates.
My race began at 8am, and while 5:30am came quite early,
once on the bike I was pleased that I would be horizontal
in the shade no later than 11am. The race course was
no less deceivingly difficult as it was last year, but
other than one tiny spot of gravel, was spotlessly clean-
a fact not unnoticed by other riders in the field.
The attacks came early and often, but seemed to be mostly
bluffs as they were quickly neutralized. As we continued
to the second lap I could tell that much attention was
being paid to rider 323 (Ron Swopes) and this fact was
confirmed by RB’s racer John Schmidt as we discussed
who might launch a successful break. As we continued,
I became a permanent fixture on Mr Swope’s rear
Ksyrium SL and countered his every move, but much to
our dismay, the pack was reluctant to let us gain even
one inch. I myself was a bit of a marked man, as I had
good success at this race last year. Greg Casels, a
former MV rider who now pulls the MoterWorks jersey
over his shoulders informed me that there were 3 MW
riders assigned to my rear Ksyrium SL as well as various
other riders from different squads.
After 3 to 4 unsuccessful break attempts, I resigned
myself to the back of the field for a pep talk from
big brother Jones. David, after having a tough first
half of the season, knee surgery on top of staph infection
on top of significant amounts of grey hair, was a welcome
sight at the rear of the field.
After a 5 min rest, I worked my way back up through
the masses, past some awkward bike handling I might
add, back up to the front. After the feed on the second
lap, I knew that my chances of winning a pack sprint
were very limited and knew that if I was going to achieve
a decent overall result, a break was my only hope even
if it meant bringing the entire damn MW team in tow.
We hit the rollers and the heat on the back side of
the course- It was now or never. I drifted up to the
front and found a steadily shrinking gap and gunned
it. I chose not to stand and attack, but rather ride
firmly off the front as I figured this would attract
less attention and flew under the radar- aaahhh, success!
A 15 second gap opened up and I found myself working
at the front of a small group composed of Casals and
one of his mates, a Nashville cyclist an someone else.
We hit the rollers with gusto, but a discontinuity in
the group found me doing most of the work- which I didn’t
mind if a rotation soon made an appearance. I started
giving the elbow of despair for 30 seconds like a chicken
with a broken wing. I received some help from MW. However,
after a few rotations, help soon faded and our gap was
in serious danger of being cannibalized. The other riders
refused to contribute and I found myself facing a decision.
Either concede and drift back to the peleton or launch
a kamikaze suicide attempt in hopes of materialization-
I chose the latter.
After stomping on the pedals for about a minute, I turned
my 15s gap into a 30s gap then to a 45s gap and then-
a breakaway rider’s best friend- corners and trees.
I was out of site of the group. Knowing I had about
13mi to ride, the pace at which I was currently riding
was out of the question. Looking back to see what damage
had been done to my solo attempt, I saw a wonderful
sight in the shape of Ron Swopes with a MW rider in
tow steadily closing the gap between the group and me.
Now usually, this would be the last thing a breakaway
rider would desire, but being 145lbs, time-trialing,
doesn’t come easy, especially after 50mi of rolling
terrain in grueling climes. Ron was hammering and as
they came up beside me I increased my speed so I wasn’t
dropped completely as they passed. We worked well and
quickly jettisoned the baggage Ron brought with him
on his journey across the gap. This guy had like 30lbs
on me, but you would never know it on the hills. The
miles ticked by and our gap significantly extended.
As we neared the finish, I received my second wind upon
seeing the 3K marking on the road. Now, after his contribution,
I had allowed myself to be satisfied with 2nd place,
seeing as how he literally did more work that me in
getting us to the finishline alone. However, instead
of just hammering up to the line, he started getting
a tactical and all bets were off.
The last few meters of any race when in a break are
what keeps me totally addicted to cycling. Maybe it’s
the endorphin rush from total uncertainty of what may
happen, but one thing is for sure, someone will win
and someone will lose. It’s the essence of sport
in its most primal form. It doesn’t come down
to form or strength or carbon or aluminum. It comes
down to desire. After two attacks from Ron, I could
sense tired legs. He attacked again as the finishline
came into view. It was like a perfect leadout- I came
around him on the outside on legs that shouldn’t
have been there after the beating I took riding with
this man in the break. Although, that’s what happened,
and after last weekend- getting second, coming un-clipped
on the final climb, the win was sweet, and needed.
A special thanks goes out to my teammates for their
support during the race and to all those who took care
of the course prior to the event. It makes me proud
to wear the orange. On to the crit…
Crit
“Oh the tumultuous rain”
-Ernest Hemingway
That single phrase sums up the race
better than anyone ever could, including me. In fact,
I am tempted to leave it right there! In a word: ridiculous.
The worst thing about a storm is when you can see it
coming and knowing there is nothing you can do to escape
it. It’s like being tied to a wall, helpless,
and having George Forman punch you square in the gut
after listening to him tell you how bad it’s going
to hurt- and then reliving it- in slow motion. The rain
came, it came hard. For those of you who were there
huddled like sardines under a couple of tents, you’ll
know the officials shortened the race from 50min + 3
to 30min + 3. To the riders, if felt like they extended
it. What could be the safest crit course in America,
turned into an icy-slick, nature-made pond. The apex
of the northwest corner (just past the finishline),
collected over 4 inches of water. Those riders who had
more than 120psi in their wheels were at a distinct
disadvantage and some came to grief in the flowerbed
opposite this corner. I did my best to stay in the front
and covered every break- not to win, but simply for
safety sake. At one point, the rain was so hard, the
corners were invisible until you were about 20ft away.
Luckily, the 8 or 9 riders in the break were of similar
mindset, in that their desire to win was superseded
by their desire not to leave in an ambulance- or helicopter.
Unfortunately, that was not the collective mindset of
those behind us which resulted in multiple casualties
of war. Although, I would assume the wet pavement did
saved them some skin.
I was riding well and staying in good position, but
with about 15mins to go, I began to feel a terribly
familiar mushy back wheel. This fact was confirmed by
several riders behind me so came to a stop and took
the sidewalk express back to the start/finish line.
My faithful teammate old man Jones was there with wheel
in hand (from his own bike, I might add) and we made
the switch. Jones, was the victim of a crash being caught
behind it, but managed to keep the rubber side down,
but, unfortunately lost too much time and was one of
several pulled before being lapped. Now, most people
think a free lap is an unfair advantage regardless of
circumstance, but I can assure you my heart rate was
higher waiting for the change than it was in the break.
Now that I recall it, I took Jones’ rear Carbone,
a wheel that I would normally feel privileged to ride,
but at the time I wouldn’t have cared if it was
made of wood- as long as it was round. The thing about
Carbones is that they make great crit wheels due to
their lateral stiffness and their relative resilience
to damage, but when it’s wet and the owner of
the wheel put enough air in the tubular tire to oxygenate
the Czech Rebublic for a month, it makes for a delicate
situation. Thankfully, by that time, much of the water
that had collected in the first turn was draining which
made the corner a little less treacherous. In the closing
laps, the attacks came often and with much vigor.
Trying to save my strength for the sprint, I became
the caboose of the Swope train awaiting the final sprint.
Ron and I were tied for 1st place so basically it came
down to who finished first being that both of us were
assured to finish in the points. As the bell sounded
on the final lap, I was ready. As we came around the
final corner Swope stood and hammered. Now, what I should
have done was wait, stay in the draft, let him bring
me up to speed and then gently ease around him on the
outside. Basically, display a carbon copy of the road
race sprint. That would have resulted in a win for the
overall. See, I did the opposite. I mis-judged the finishline,
went immediately to the outside out of the draft, and
went head to head with a rider with great strength.
This strategy resulted in a 5th place crit finish and
a 2nd place GC finish. Damn. If only… Wouldacouldashoulda…
etc. etc. etc… Regardless, it was a great time
and I feel the wiser for having done the race. Don’t
worry, retribution will be swift when I see Mr. Swope
in the cat 2s next year!!!
In hindsight, I said it once (last year) and I’ll
say it again. The Smith and Nephew Grand Prix is the
best, most well-organized, safest omnium I have done
thus far in my career as a cyclist. A BIG well-done
to all those involved and I look forward to next year!!!
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