Today I finished the second road race that I've participated in. It was a pretty good time. The course was in Lester Prairie. It was a very flat 23 mile loop and the winds were blowing. We would be doing this two times. This is not the setup that I hope for. The only other road race I did was last year. It was the state championship. That was a 70 mile race that finished on a fairly large hill. I raced that one the way I figure a guy like me should race. Sit in, then attack on the hill at the end. It worked out alright that time. This time I thought I'd go in a different direction. With the winds blowing I was thinking that a good 3/4 of the race was ideal for a break to form. If that was going to happen I wanted to be in on it.
The race started with a roll out of majestic Lester Prairie. The moto pulled off to the side and we were off...to a slow start. Chit chat was high and the cranking was slow. Everyone seemed to be keenly aware that it was hot and there is going to be a heck of a headwind when we turn the corner. Everyone but Keith. He was off the front lopping along at a good pace. What's this? I guess we are going to race. The pace started to pick up and we pulled Keith back in. Then there were a few tries at breakaways. All were shut down pretty quickly. One group of six got a bit of a gap that looked like trouble until they turned into the wind. Then the train stopped. We rolled into the wind at Mukluk pace. No one wanted the pain. After what seemed like an eternity the turn out of the wind started to come into site and the pace picked back up. We turned right had a cross wind and I started to push the pedals a little harder. I looked back and to my surprise I had gotten a medium sized gap. I kept on trucking and saw Keith trying to pull me in alone. I didn't really know what to do so I just kept going. Sure enough Keith caught me and now we had two. After a bit I saw Drew was on his way to join the party. He hooked on and I started to think this thing might work. Well I guess the peloton thought it might work too because all of a sudden they were on us. That must have been some kind of effort because that gap closed faster than...never mind. The three of us rejoined the group, turned and sailed downwind for a while. At the end of the downwind section they had a feed zone. For some reason everyone must have slowed down for it because I all of a sudden found myself out front again. Not really wanting to be out there by myself with 23 miles to go I figured I'd just ride like I was headed to work. I kept putting time on the field. Then I see a another GP guy on his way up. I figured it was Keith again. I kept my pace easy enough and hoped I'd get some company. To my surprise it was a gentleman named Shannon. He seemed to be in good spirits so I upped my pace a little and he continued on. We tried to work together and the group stayed a long way back. I thought things were going pretty well until he mentioned that he was a little tired. I guess I should have given him some more time to recoup after bridging up to me. Shannon pulled pretty hard the last few times, but I think he'd finally run out of steam. I said thanks and continued on alone. Ten miles to go but mostly down wind. Now or never. The moto pulled up and asked if I wanted splits. I nodded and hoped by splits he really meant, do you want to hold onto my motorcycle and I'll pull you in. He didn't. He disappeared and when he came back he said, "50 seconds 5-0 seconds." Not the five minutes I'd like, but maybe that would hold? We turned down wind and I tried to crank harder. Nope, not happening. I'm still moving pretty well, but not peloton on the final straight good. I start to get some chills. Feeling cold when it is 90 usually means you aren't going to win. The moto gets up to me again. He says, "30 seconds, if you can go faster now is the time!" I tried again. Yes, yes, yes....no. Looking back they are withing throwing distance. Maybe if I'd brought my James bond oil slick or tacks or something? Too bad the weight weenie in me made me dump that stuff. Bam! They are on me like...never mind. Maybe I should try and hook on and go for the sprint. Nope, not happening. Oh well, about a mile left, might as well take in the sights. Then up ahead there is trouble. People flying all about. Both guys that were on the ground pop straight up. One throws his helmet. Damn he's wearing all black. Must be Devin. I stop to gawk. He tore up his really nice jersey and got rid of some extra skin. Looks like all the important stuff is still there though. I ride off and finish the race.
I guess that is the other way to do a bike race. Much harder. Much less successful. Still pretty fun.
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