Chequamegon 12

It's Monday, cold and rainy. I should have started riding a few hours ago, but it's Monday, cold and rainy. So instead I'll write a word or two about last weekend in an effort to avoid the cold for a moment or two.

I left Minnesota with a stomach full of nerves. I've had a feeling since I finished last year's Chequamegon that I shouldn't have done as well as I did. I showed up this year fully prepared to be crushed by the pressure that I've been holding on to. The race certainly wasn't a huge victory, but I think I did alright.

The morning started cool. Our crew rolled out of bed bright and early for breakfast. Rolling the bikes down to the Norske Nook is always the best way to start a morning in Hayward. We ate awesome food and drank a lot of coffee. Got back to the hotel and drank more coffee. Needless to say, by race time, I was amped up and ready to go. Five minutes left and the butterflies in my stomach must have found that caffeine because their wings are about to bust out of my stomach. Telling myself I've done this before, it's just another day on the bike does nothing. Usually this works, but in a crowd approaching 2,000 there is no kidding myself. Today, this is a big deal. A couple of minutes to go and the four wheelers start to burble. The familiar smell of burned gasoline starts to waft through the crowd, and we are off! The start is always slow and twitchy. So many people elbow to elbow, trying to move forward. I can still see the front, but it's farther than I probably should have let it get. We roll along the pavement accompanied by the roar of mountain bike tires unaccustomed to the tarmac. Slow accelerations followed by violent braking is pretty standard at this point. Finally I can see the police car blocking the road. As we approach the police car the leaders fly off the road to the left into the field. This is where the race truly begins. The people that have just been hanging on basically stop on the grassy hill. The people that were overtaken try to squeak through. Usually it is a sort of chaos until the trail narrows back down. I made it through in alright position and should have calmed down. I tried but failed. I sat in for a bit, but saw a sweet tandem come down and figured it was time to move towards the break. The tandem fizzled on a hill and I was left alone in the front pulling towards the group ahead. Eventually I caught them, but was left in a shape that was not going to help me finish well. Every time we crested the hill it was a fight to get back on. Finally I started to feel a pain in my calves. My body was saying it's time to give up and I couldn't argue anymore. I let them go and kept chugging along. The worst part was seeing the group just ahead and knowing I couldn't reach them. That is where the story of me having a chance to win ended.

This is where the story of me finishing starts. I had fallen back and was ready to quit when I saw that a couple of guys were roaring up on me. They passed and told me that we need to get back in this thing! Figuring I didn't really have anything else going on until Kevin's party I might as well pedal my bike a bit. I hung on his wheel, he was flying! Recovered some, then put in a decent pull. We were moving along. My calves still hurt, a lot, but what can you do? I chugged along eventually hitting firetower. It was painful, but crested the top and saw a familiar mullet. He offered a coke and told me to get it in my big ring! Looking down I was a couple cogs away from there so I complied and pushed until the familiar hurt started again. I got caught by a guy and we caught a couple of others. We worked together pretty well until we got to three to go. Then I put in a pull that was not supposed to be friendly. Everyone was gone except for  the guy that had caught me. He was off my wheel, but hadn't given up. Eventually he caught me and we had what seemed like the slowest race ever up the last hill. I was thinking I could have walked up faster, but on reflection I think that I would have collapsed. I crested the hill and the legs could feel the doughnut holes that I wanted to dominate at the finish. Hammer, Hammer, Hammer!!! Down the hill I can almost grab you Erik's guy but you are just out of reach. Pedal Damn It! was not even close to the profanity that I was choking on. The pain was there in the volume that you can only handle a few times a year, but then with the finish line there was a satisfaction that is so worth it. The Erik's guy held on. I finished and saw Dave O and a few other people who had beaten me. It wasn't my best race there but I earned my 47th place this year. Frickin butterflies.

Its kind of hard to complain about life. I don't have much money. I don't win many races. Some things seem more important.

As far as racing goes. Cross has begun and is fun and hard as always. Chequamegon is in a couple of weeks. I'm a little worried about having a big disappointment there. I'll attend some other races, but don't expect much other than to drink a fair amount of beers after I cross the finish line.

My new road bike is still carbon and still fast.

I got a new bike and it's sweet. Carbon and stuff.

Feeling kind of green.

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.

Rowdy in Burnsville.

Three days of the aggressive switch being on and I can finally switch it off again. Buck is over completing my midweek run. It starts with losing a crit at Opus, continues with a fun really hard road ride on Wednesday, and completes with Buck Hill. Buck was fun tonight. I started a little bit better and hammered with everything I had on the hills. Owen will be mad he missed it because they featured the elusive bonus grass climb. I managed to find a pretty good groove and push my way up past Jeff, then Dave. Dave was easily holding my wheel in his stealth new kit when I slid my front wheel out in a fairly easy corner. Dave capitalized and dropped me like I was standing still. I guess I was on the ground? Thanks for not riding over me, I was in the race line. Jeff was just catching me as I regrouped and I figured I'd pull ahead and drop him. He stuck to me like glue for the duration of the race. Hill at 195 bpm, no problem for Jeff. Good job friend. Finally the two of us caught Dave again and I made a full gas pass on the hill before we dove into the singletrack. It stuck and he stayed behind the rest of the race with Jeff just behind on his wheel. In all honesty I'm pretty sure they were both going faster through the singletrack and had they pulled a pass where it might have been precarious to do so, either of them could have beaten me. I'll take my first fourth though and be happy. Jon ended third pretty far up the road and Jesse and B. Moore were nowhere to be seen from my vantage point. Now back to my normal slow rides through the country for a couple of days. Afton is Sunday, my back already hurts thinking about it.

Buck again.

Mountain bike update! Owen and his friend Jon rode each other into the ground to get third and fourth. B. Moore and Jesse both beat them as expected. Looking at the times Owen was actually pretty close to catching Jesse. That would have been pretty crazy! It sounded like Freewheel Kevin tried to hang with them, but couldn't handle the brutal pace that their single cogs were rocking. I played in the sand for a second at the start and that was all it took to push me back to the middle of the pack. I ram jammed my way through a bunch of people and ended up sixth. It was a distant sixth with the group ahead going as fast as they were. Tim started fast. Then he started making throw up sorts of noises when I came around him. In team form he was prepping his stomach for the load of beer he was going to have to drink. Cole did the competitive two lapper for the first time. He was doing great until he got in a gnarly crash and took his bar end to his leg. It looked like he was frustrated and excited to get back out there next week. It shouldn't be very long before he's crushing people's dreams.

My mind is broken as usual.

Funny thing. I ended up running into the younger me tonight at about nine. He told me that I need to HTFU. He said that I knew the thunderheads to the south were going to stay clear of us. He told me that my legs have been this tired before and I've still moved forward. He told me that I shouldn't have bothered the love of my life who would rather be sleeping. I'm sorry I disappointed you me. I won't do that again. Thank you Amy.