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06-04-08, 12:10 PM
75 mile road race in the west-central plains. Lots of rough roads, rolling hills, strong breezes.
Except for the starting and ending mileages, all are approximate.
Mile 0: Left the line in a group of forty riders --22 in my cat, 18 in another cat. Started together for time's sake.
Mile 3: Just riding along at an easy pace. EMT truck goes screaming by on the left.
Mile 5: Slow down, snake through crash scene from cat that started just before ours. Rider on stretcher, but conscious. I make mental note that the asphalt has the texture of 20-grit sandpaper.
Mile 10: A guy rides off the front; everyone lets him go. Let's call him "Han Solo." We'll be seeing him again.
Miles 10-30: Riders in front, including yours truly, try forming diagonal echelons in order to deal with a wind from the ten o'clock position. About six riders understand how to do this, and the other twenty five (or so) riders have no clue. We yell instructions, but might as well try teaching pigs to dance a ballet.
Mile 30: Two more guys go off the front and disappear; let's call them "The Dynamic Duo." We'll be seeing them again, too.
Miles 30-45: Periodic accelerations allow our pack to shed some dead weight. We drop to 13 riders. At around 45 miles, I start hanging out near the front, keeping an eye out for a viable breakaway.
Mile 52: A guy who I have marked as a strong rider attacks on a moderate hill. I go after him, another dude comes on my wheel. At the top of the climb we exchange some small talk ("Let's make this stick," etc.) and immediately, wordlessly, fall into a precise diagonal echelon to deal with a strong wind from the two o'clock position. I decide that these guys are smart, and they seem strong -- probably stronger than me, really. We spend the next six miles hammering so hard that I can barely hold on.
Mile 58: We've got a decent gap, though it's hard to measure with the rolling terrain. Could be a group as little as 500 meters back and we might not see it. There is one determined rider chasing us, but we're not worried about him.
Mile 59: We come up behind Han Solo, and as I had anticipated, he is shattered. We sneak up and blow by in order to make sure that he can't grab our wheels.
Mile 66: We come up behind the Dynamic Duo, who look a bit stronger. I am agnostic about them: if we're being chased (and I don't know if we're being chased), they may help us a bit, even if they are tired; on the other hand, I'd rather not have two more riders sprinting against me at the finish. Tough call. We ride strongly past them, then a few minutes later one of my breakaway companions says "Looks like we're five now." I look behind and, sure enough, we've now got a five-man break.
Miles 66-75: We occasionally badger the Dynamic Duo into pulling, but they mainly suck wheels. They're not idiots. Well, they went off the front waaaay too soon, but now they are being smarter. We all chat and ascertain that the Dynamic Duo are both in my cat, while my two breakaway companions are in the other cat. So I've gotta beat the dynamic duo. At 70 miles, my quads start cramping.
Mile 75+: Sprint finish. One of my breakaway companions gives me a beautiful (and unexpected) leadout, but I still only beat one of the Dymanic Duo. Sigh. Cross the finish line and my legs hurt like never before.
Rest of the Day: I regret letting the Dynamic Duo grab our wheels without a fight.
Except for the starting and ending mileages, all are approximate.
Mile 0: Left the line in a group of forty riders --22 in my cat, 18 in another cat. Started together for time's sake.
Mile 3: Just riding along at an easy pace. EMT truck goes screaming by on the left.
Mile 5: Slow down, snake through crash scene from cat that started just before ours. Rider on stretcher, but conscious. I make mental note that the asphalt has the texture of 20-grit sandpaper.
Mile 10: A guy rides off the front; everyone lets him go. Let's call him "Han Solo." We'll be seeing him again.
Miles 10-30: Riders in front, including yours truly, try forming diagonal echelons in order to deal with a wind from the ten o'clock position. About six riders understand how to do this, and the other twenty five (or so) riders have no clue. We yell instructions, but might as well try teaching pigs to dance a ballet.
Mile 30: Two more guys go off the front and disappear; let's call them "The Dynamic Duo." We'll be seeing them again, too.
Miles 30-45: Periodic accelerations allow our pack to shed some dead weight. We drop to 13 riders. At around 45 miles, I start hanging out near the front, keeping an eye out for a viable breakaway.
Mile 52: A guy who I have marked as a strong rider attacks on a moderate hill. I go after him, another dude comes on my wheel. At the top of the climb we exchange some small talk ("Let's make this stick," etc.) and immediately, wordlessly, fall into a precise diagonal echelon to deal with a strong wind from the two o'clock position. I decide that these guys are smart, and they seem strong -- probably stronger than me, really. We spend the next six miles hammering so hard that I can barely hold on.
Mile 58: We've got a decent gap, though it's hard to measure with the rolling terrain. Could be a group as little as 500 meters back and we might not see it. There is one determined rider chasing us, but we're not worried about him.
Mile 59: We come up behind Han Solo, and as I had anticipated, he is shattered. We sneak up and blow by in order to make sure that he can't grab our wheels.
Mile 66: We come up behind the Dynamic Duo, who look a bit stronger. I am agnostic about them: if we're being chased (and I don't know if we're being chased), they may help us a bit, even if they are tired; on the other hand, I'd rather not have two more riders sprinting against me at the finish. Tough call. We ride strongly past them, then a few minutes later one of my breakaway companions says "Looks like we're five now." I look behind and, sure enough, we've now got a five-man break.
Miles 66-75: We occasionally badger the Dynamic Duo into pulling, but they mainly suck wheels. They're not idiots. Well, they went off the front waaaay too soon, but now they are being smarter. We all chat and ascertain that the Dynamic Duo are both in my cat, while my two breakaway companions are in the other cat. So I've gotta beat the dynamic duo. At 70 miles, my quads start cramping.
Mile 75+: Sprint finish. One of my breakaway companions gives me a beautiful (and unexpected) leadout, but I still only beat one of the Dymanic Duo. Sigh. Cross the finish line and my legs hurt like never before.
Rest of the Day: I regret letting the Dynamic Duo grab our wheels without a fight.