Got to the race site with plenty of time and was a bit disappointed in the weather. I'll take colder over blistering any day but I thought it was going to be 60-something out instead of 50 and windy. Ah well, whattayagonnado? Found the 'mates, suited up, and decided to take a few laps before mounting the fluid trainer for the disciplined portion of the warmup (where Da Numbas can control da numbas.) Strangely, my legs felt great. For me, that's usually really good...or really bad. I've had plenty of times where good-feeling legs simply meant they were going to take 2 hours to open up and the first hard effort was going to either sting really bad or send me catapulting off the back. Luckily, as I progressed through the warmup, they only started feeling better and better.
The only crappy part about that now was that we had a small showing as no one was all that interested in spending kitchen passes on Carl Dolan after a monster team showing at Chantilly. That essentially left me as domestique to Jim and Pete who are both in the running for the BAR. Being a sprinter, I have tons to learn about domestique-ing.
Jim and I lined up with wheels on the line. It's not really necessary to do that in a race like Dolan but what the hell, right? Jim advised that I stay toward the front for at least the first half of the race because he predicted a wind-induced field split (cue ominous foreshadowing music.) At the whistle, I glued myself to Mark Warno's wheel and for 2 full laps I was never further back than maybe 10th. The legs felt great.
During this time, there was the normal flurry of attacks. I covered some. Jim covered some. Pete stayed hidden most of the time for the first half of the race. Around lap 4, Dave Fuentes launched and took about seven guys with him. Jim looked at me and I said "off ya go". Evo had a guy or two in there so one of them slid up and joined me at the front. I hesitated long enough for a nice gap to form before settling in at FTP with the Evo dude to try and control any chases. Sure enough, no one was really interested in sticking their noses into that headwind. The split now had some firepower to include Warno, Fuentes, Art Brown, Jim, an Evo guy or two, a Saroff guy (I think) and one or two others. I could see them gaining distance. I figured it was gone. I sure hoped it was anyway since Jim is a great sprinter.
As the laps progressed further, a few attacks went and were brought back. But it caused enough of a speed increase to eventually gobble up the split. It was a bit disappointing. Turns out that we didn't exactly gobble up the entire split. Fuentes, Warno, and I guess two others were gone. Gee, what a surprise. So it was on to plan B which was for me to set up either Pete or Jim for the sprint. Boy did I misplay this one.
With 2 to go I had all my matches. Hell, I felt like I had an extra matchbook handy. Bike handling in the peleton was rather smooth so I felt completely comfortable choosing a path and working my way up. I was about halfway through the peleton when we made the turn. I had a clear and beautiful line which allowed me to keep pedaling thus carrying my momentum while, for some reason, the pack didn't really accelerate. Without much effort, I was on the front just as we started up the hill. Oops. I didn't panic and just tried to set a steady pace up the hill. Just as the road flattened a bit, the group started by me on my left. As we crested, I swung left to catch some shelter from the wind but swung too far and was out in it again. We were now past the start finish and making the bend into the wind. I was in it all alone with a string of guys on my right. Now, I'm not frail by any stretch and typically don't have a problem working my way into a group of guys. Nope. No one was budging. I had gone a full mile or so in the wind after pulling up the hill. That ate away most of my matches. No no no, this was all wrong!!
Oh right, the bike-handling example. As the group was passing me on my right, some guy got too close to Jim and rubbed his front wheel against Jim's rear wheel - HARD. Sounded like a belt-sander. The guy kept his cool, steered INTO Jim's wheel (which made the sound a bit louder) and came off clean. Bravo dude. Masters, love it. Anyway...
I finally worked my way into the bunch but was 3/4 back and huffing. I could see both Jim and Pete in decent position. I wasn't...and I was now pissed off. I wanted a do-over. Just the last lap please. We were now traveling at a good clip toward the turn. I managed to work my way up to about halfway back by the turn and, as you can guess, that was all she wrote. I had one last hope to surf some wheels but everyone back there sat up. The front of the peleton made haste toward the line and fanned out. I just put the pressure on the pedals as hard as I could to make contact with the back of the bunch...just as they launched into the sprint. Yep, that was that.
It was a good news, bad news story for me. I felt great and my power numbers reflected that I'm nearing peak. I was able to work for much of the race and respond as necessary. The bad of course is how I played the last two laps. Grrrrr. I need to apply some Italian rage. Or maybe I should just throw some bling at my competitors.
Grazie. Ciao!
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