A Weekend of Ruined Races

This is a long report because I combine two race reports into one post. Deal with it, goombahs. Da Numbas writes for you!! :)

This weekend was a perfect example of how Murphy's Law applies to a peaking cyclist...and man is it frustrating. All those hours over the winter on the trainer in the garage or in the cold and rain on the road designed to put you in the best form possible for those spring races. It's amazing how the events of a few seconds can negate so much (yes, I've got my poopy pants on right now.) My coach has been expertly planning my taper and peak. I've executed on his plan and have enjoyed watching my ATL, CTL, and TSB curves respond appropriately putting my TSB squarely in the black for my first peak target of the year: May. So, first up was the MP Murad road race and the Bunny Hop criterium.

MP Murad: A Horse of a Different Color.

The forecast for the whole weekend was hot. Stupid hot. So I started my salt loading and hydrating on Thursday. I wasn't about to be unprepared for this one. 48 miles isn't exactly long, but it's enough that one needs to be prepared, especially when it's supposed to be hot. They weren't offering a straight-up 35+ race so I opted for the 35+ 3/4. As always, I arrived plenty early so I could perform the prep tasks as a reasonable pace. Check in, numbers pinned, back number repinned (ugh), trainer setup with bike, etc.

Located the teammates and we briefly talked strategy. Coppi, NCVC, and Evo all had some numbers so our primary tactic was to keep an eye on them in the first 3 laps and make sure nothing went up the road with all 3 without one of us too. After that, we'd turn more to the offensive and send Pete W, Chris G, then myself up the road.

First 2 laps were uneventful. I spent those two laps testing various lines, taking note of what others were doing, and, oh yeah, learning who the heck to stay away from. It's been a while since I've done a race with so many cat 4s in it and, no offense fellas, it was really noticeable. Put me a bit more on edge - perhaps because I was involved in a cat 4 crash there two years ago. Anyway, one thing I did notice is that I wasn't even close to being in the red. My fitness was clearly where I wanted it to be.

Laps 3 and 4 were spent doing some more aggressive testing. I responded to a few attacks, especially if one of the three big teams were initiating, and took note of how the field would respond, who looked strong, etc. The data kept pointing to a field sprint. Coming into lap 5, two guys (I think both NCVC) got off the front a bit. I had slid back a bit in the pack (maybe 2/3 back) and noticed Pete near the front. We still had a long way to go and I wasn't worried at all about moving around nor about the break...yet.

During that lap, on Sugarland Rd as we were passing one of the farms, a horse and rider came upon us. She was in the grass on our left riding in the opposite direction. The closer we got, the more the horse became agitated. This didn't surprise me as I recall the promoters at the Lancaster, PA races reminding us to do our best to refrain from free-wheeling if we pass a horse and buggy because free-wheeling sounds like bees to a horse and will spook it. But the closer I got, the more I could see that the horse was becoming more than just agitated. It finally started to rear up and its rider just grabbed on for dear life. Finally, the horse threw the rider and she tumbled ass over tea kettle straight to the ground on her head (she had a helmet on) and then got stepped on (or so it looked). The horse then took off and looked like it may just invade the peleton. It didn't. But it was pure chaos in the pack during those moments. Most of the peleton was slowing down to come to a stop. Many riders were yelling "STOP!!!" to everyone else ahead of them.

Seeing the woman laying there, I stopped. My teammate Michael stopped. A Coppi rider stopped. We ran to the woman to see if she was badly injured. She had some cuts on her face and arms. She passed the chicken wing test (collarbone) and her pupils were responsive so it seemed like she wasn't critical. The moto ref was now there and he was radioing in the situation. What a crazy happening!

After feeling confident that someone more qualified was on their way, I hopped back on the bike along with my teammate and the Coppi dude. No other riders were in sight. I figured either the "act of God" clause was being instituted or they were all gathering at the next turn. It was the latter....but I'd soon find out that it was the former as well. Once we got there, it was clear that it wasn't the entire field. It was maybe 40 dudes. The moto ref told us that the riders that didn't stop would be neutralized at the S/F and we'd be restarted and effectively have a one lap race. I'll be honest and say that a one lap 3/4 race didn't appeal to me in the least. Everyone would be fresh on a non-selective course. Can you say crash waiting to happen? Anyway, we rolled along at a very casual pace for all of Partnership, all of River, and the stretch on Hughes to the S/F. Seemed like forever. As we made the slight right to be in sight of the S/F....no one was there. The chief ref then stepped into the road and screamed "YOU'RE RACING!!! ONE TO GO!! ONE TO GO!! GO GO GO!!!" The group gave a collective moan. We knew we'd been screwed. They hadn't held up the leaders.

You could tell that everyone was disappointed. There were no brutal attacks. No redline efforts. Just a solid but steady effort for our last lap. I put myself about 5th or so wheel thinking there'd be an attack on the hill. Nope. We just climbed it steadily. We made the turn onto River and again, no attacks. I held my top ten position without any effort at all. I was expecting the swarm at any moment. Never happened. In fact, on one incline, I was going just downright slow and still no one came around. My teammate Michael was right there too so I slid on his wheel thinking maybe I'd get a leadout. But due to some shuffling, we came into the corner 2nd and 3rd wheel. Crap, too far up. Oh well, I didn't care too much. I mean, after all, we were racing for 57th place or whatever, right? So after the turn I told him to give me his best minute. At about 600 meters out, an Artemis guy took a flyer. So, I decided to chase (mistake #1) and stayed in the saddle applying steady but increasing power (mistake #2) thereby leading out the field. What am I, new? I knew better than to make either of those but, again, I didn't care. By the 200 meter mark, I was closing fast on the guy but still in the saddle. At about 150, I was pretty cooked but hopped out of the saddle and sprinted. At 100 or so meters guys started to come around me. Again, we were sprinting for billionth place so I shut it down, laughed a bit at my field leadout, and coasted in.

The post race chatter among the racers was focused on one thing: disappointment. We were all disappointed that 1) something had interfered in the race and 2) the 2nd group got kinda screwed because we decided to stop and make sure the woman was OK. Now, to be crystal clear, I nor anyone I spoke with blamed the refs. It was a confusing situation and some miscomms meant we never all got neutralized. I didn't learn until today that both groups got scored as their own races. Figures. Had I known that, I would have played the end out much differently but, frankly, it didn't matter anyway. The events simply altered the race and it was now in the books.

Bunny Hop: Mojo Hits JoJo

Over the past few years, I seem to have become associated with the various mechanical failures that have occurred on the team group rides. People would say it was the "Mo-Joe". Well I guess it was my turn. Once again, the bad news is that I felt stellar. The race today was the super-late Masters race. It was pretty hot out which meant that I wouldn't need an ultra-long warmup, which was fine by me. Though the field was small, there were enough big names to keep a man honest. Dave F, Chuck Hutch, SDO, a slew of Saroff, etc etc were there, not to mention our "A" squad (minus a still-injured Chris Hall).

After the whistle, I settled in right away and felt great. Really great. I moved up when I felt like it. Tucked in when necessary. Responded to some efforts and an attack or two. No problems. The course is short enough that I felt like I was in a left-hand lean the whole time. I was having a lot of fun. It felt super safe and super smooth. Ahhhhh, the Masters race.

About a third of the way into the race, something weird happened. Without being commanded, my chain went from the big ring to the little one. Then it immediately jumped off the little ring and dropped completely. We had just turned at turn 2. So I slid out right without too much worry. Hey, it happens and I've corrected such a thing a billion times. So, I put the front derailleur to the little ring position then upshifted. The chain started to come back on but then jumped clear across the rings and off the other side and wrapped around the crank arm. WTF??? So I tried going the other way again but this time it was frozen solid. I looked back and the chain looked like spaghetti in the rear derailleur. SHIT!!!

So I jumped off and ran the bike cross-style toward the pit. Luckily, ex-teammate Ryan Bracken saw me coming and ran over to help. He muscled the chain free, made sure it was threaded on both the crank spider and the cogs, propped me up on it so I could clip in with both feet, and had me ready to go before the bunch was around again. Big big thanks to Ryan for that!!! So I fed back in without issue and still felt great. OK I thought, that was interesting, now back to business.

But this time, my rear derailleur was clearly not recovered from the previous situation. It wouldn't hold a gear under power. It'd either slip or it would simply shift to an adjacent cog. Sometimes upshift. Sometimes downshift. WTF WTF WTF!!!! It was constant, like every other pedal stroke. I tried to ignore it but it became apparent that the bike was becoming unrideable. I figured I'd simply ride it out and take my field finish. Then I found myself toward the back but on Dave F's wheel. Oooooo. As we approached turn 2, he started sliding toward the inside - the opposite way the pack was sliding. He's gonna attack and I'm going with. He did and I did...almost. I got out of the saddle the absolute moment he did...and my gears slipped and sputtered again and again. But I didn't stop. Dave bridged to a group of six or so guys and I was almost there too and certainly would've been had my bike been working right.

As it was, the more I pedaled, the worse it got until I literally couldn't turn the crank without the chain going haywire. Then, at last, the same thing happened as previously. The chain flew off the spider and froze. I realized it wasn't to be. I was in the best shape of my life. I was racing with some of the best Masters on the East Coast and feeling great. But my trusty steed said no mas. So I calmly came to a stop, let out an Italian expletive or two, and rolled my bike back toward the S/F so I could watch my team finish the race.

I really enjoyed watching the rest of the race but man did the feeling suck. I had trained like a madman to get to the fitness level necessary to race with these guys. I know stuff like this happens, but it doesn't make it less frustrating. This may just cause me to get a new bike (got my current one - a Cannondale CAAD 8 with DA 7800 - in '04). But that's a post for another time.

The good news is that Jim W took 5th. Everyone else on our team looked strong. Exciting times indeed. Next up, Ft. Ritchie cat 3 race.

Buonanotte, amici miei.