Hard core road racing excitement!

Sunday was a fantastic day. I battled for the state championship in road racing for Minnesota. I've never actually raced a road race so this was a new experience. I realized that in road racing there isn't actually any battling. It is mostly sitting there hoping someone that isn't you goes fast enough to pull back a break that seems to be threatening my future championship. We raced 72 miles and to be honest I didn't really do anything for the first 71. I sat in the back and talked with people about their lives. Sort of Oprah'esk, occasionally swerving away from a couple of dudes that seemed to be having issues. Then on the last lap I went up the hill as fast as my tiny legs would go. I didn't win, but I felt alright about where I finished. Congratulations to the gentlemen that battled the wind to hold their breakaway until the finish. Bravo.

Rain.

The day moves on as the rain begins to fall. Halfway home and the winds begin. The lighting crashes become closer and a wave of water falls from the sky. Thirty miles left and no end is in site. The pace quickens and my smile has touched both ears. We push today to do what tomorrow we may be unable.

It's always been about the money.

Finally the big bucks are rolling in. I've put a lot of time into this biking thing hoping for some large financial rewards and they are finally coming in. A few more of these and I can finally retire from the grind.

Thank you.

The last couple of weeks have seemed really packed with racing so I've been pretty happy to have a week that has been more sedate. I've still been riding every day, but it seems more like the winter style that I love. That is the kind that got me back into biking, and the kind that keeps me intoxicated with it. I love the long days spent staring at trees and creeks as I slowly pass. And lust for the weakness that comes as my will begins to fail. That is what I yearn for when I sit at work passing the day. This last week has been a return to cycling.

A tale of two races.

Two races happened this week with two very different outcomes. Thursday felt like it was going to be tough. I was creaking all day walking up the stairs at work so I had very little confidence in a positive outcome. Little did I know my legs would feel better than they have all year. I started with a fair effort and built speed pretty quickly. Pretty soon I was feeling really strong and passing some guys that I've been finishing with all year. Finally I passed a couple of people that I've been trying to catch all year. I ended up fifth. I got close to Heath before he decided he wanted to ride fast again and made me look like I was going backwards. Matt brought a ringer to the party. Mark McCormack is apparently a bigshot road/cyclocross champion. He ended third being edged out by Jesse and Brendan, but he looked really fast the couple seconds I saw him. It was a really fun race that is a highlight of my year so far.

Friday my house flooded and I took two days away from biking to clean as much as I could. It was not a trade I'd like to make again.

After two days of vacuuming the race at Mont Du Lac arrived. Last year it was a three hour walk in the mud. This year it was hot! Maybe not as hot as I thought but I was having trouble. I started fast. I guess two days of rest will do that. Who knew? At the top of the gigantic hill that is the start of the race I was sitting just behind the leaders. I was moving fast but breathing hard. All I needed to do was recover. That never happened. The heat sunk in and I felt like a pinball bouncing over the plentiful roots that are everywhere at Du Lac. It was ugly. And long. Two and a half hours of me riding poorly and slowly. Maybe next year.

Recovery is bliss.

Tonight I feel a bit like the scene from The Triplets of Belleville right before his mother begins truing his wheel. My friends on two wheels felt little like friends as they smashed me through the wind on what should have been a modest ride to Northfield. I can't complain too much as right now, Caydel and I are in the enviable position of having nothing to do but drink beer and chase the cat around. I'm doing more of one and he more of the other. I'll leave the mystery out there.

Tomorrow I will race at Buck Hill. It is always a favorite of my week. I'll have visions of grandeur until about a half hour before the race. At that point I'll convince myself that I should probably just go home. Then the race will start and I will be passed by a substantial amount of people. After about a lap I'll start to go a bit faster and pass a couple of people back. Then I will probably end in a position that is fine but not great and the week will begin again. Maybe I should get a Niner for the starting line encouragement?

Crit scatch fever.

I must be getting old because today I had the choice of racing or riding to a race and watching and chose the later. I think watching Max crash last week in conjunction to my new found addiction to crash ridden Tour De France coverage has me a bit disturbed about road racing. I'm sure it is a phase and hopefully a short one.

Grant and I ended up riding up to the crits tonight to watch some chaos. It never happened. The field spread out for all of the races making for some very interesting racing. In the 345 race there was an early break that was egged on by Chris Fisher's continued attacks at the front that strung out the field. Devon was hanging out in the back so he missed the break. He immediately attacked but had a long road to hoe alone. Keith came with but soon fell off. After a couple laps of what looked like a self consuming effort, Devin caught a group that was dangling just behind the lead two. Unfortunately none of them had the energy or will to push so he dragged them for a couple of more laps. I have to say that it was one of the more impressive efforts I have seen in a while.

The 123 race was odd. There was a break and no one would chase. Eventually a couple of people put in an effort and closed the gap a bit, but it was way to late to do anything.

Grant and I finished the evening with a ride back to his house. It was supposed to be a recovery ride but I still went as fast as I could up the hills because I am dumb. Someday I'll learn.

When I got home I took my crew chief for a walk and saw an old man walking through his kitchen. He had his walker going and was doing the old man walker shuffle. It reminded me of a line that I had heard telling me to take care of my knees because I'd miss them when they are gone. Maybe I should listen.

Tomorrow is Wednesday Night Worlds. Maybe the greatest compilation of non professional road riders in the world. Maybe not. Either way it is a fun group of guys and always a highlight of my week.