Ride Sally Ride Report

It was the best of times. It was the worst of times. Today was a day filled with highs and lows. Thanks to a very organized race director (Michael Randers-Pehrson), the race was proceeding swimmingly. Registration was going well, the races were going well, people seemed happy. I was happy. The weather had been surprisingly good based on the forecast. Nick Taylor won the cat 4 race thereby keeping that title in the family for another year.

I got the green light from Michael to do the 35+ 3/4 race because we had plenty of team support to cover everything needing doing. Given the stress I generally experience during RSR - no, I'm not race director but being President weighs on me since it's our only public-facing event - I wasn't expecting too much. I did however note some of the important players in the field and wanted to keep an eye on them. Since I do most of my interval training at RSR, I know the corners very well and have taken them many many times at various speeds.

To my surprise, when the whistle blew, a group took off right off the bat. I wasn't overly concerned but, after a few laps, I asked my teammate Chris if he thought it had any teeth. He and agreed that it was unlikely that it would stay away. Sure enough, we caught it after maybe ten laps. Immediately a counter attack occurred. I gave it a bit then decided to give it a go so I bridged. I had to burn a match to get there. Once there, I realized that there was zero organization and we got gobbled up quickly. Crap. Wasted match. No sooner did we get caught then Guy Perotti went off the front, followed a few seconds later by Andreas (NCVC) and Gus (Gamjams). Hmmmm. Guy, NCVC, Gamjams. Then, Rt 1 went. Then Evo. OK, that's it. Almost all the major players and each a powerhouse. The rest of the Evo team, in association with the other Gamjams players, had already started to shut the front down. Yup, time to go.

By this time, Guy, Gus, and Andreas had a decent gap and I had work to do. All this after already burning a match. So, I came around the outside and buried myself. It took me half a lap (which, according to some of my teammates, was too fast) to get there. When I got there, I was hurting. Bad. Now, the problem with that is that I don't think correctly when I'm in the pain cave. As soon as I got there, Gus was yelling at everyone to work. The marine in him wanted to get organized to stay away and it was the right thing to do. But, for me, the right thing to do would have been to skip a few rotations and come back to earth a bit. In general, that's better for the group too since I'd be more effective though in this case it didn't matter.

But, trying to be a good soldier and thinking I'd hang in there without problem, I pulled through immediately. After three rotations, I was in real pain and, with 15 on the lap card, knew I couldn't sustain it. So I started skipping turns in the hopes of recovering. By this time, a few more guys had joined to seal the deal - ABRT, Bike Doctor, and All American (I think). A lap or two later, I found myself on the ABRT guy's wheel and he got gapped but I wasn't paying attention. When I looked up finally, I realized I had a mini-bridge to do. I did it but spent the last match in my book. I held on for a bit more and that was all she wrote. They rode away and I sat up and waited for the pack. I was hugely disappointed. So many woulda-coulda-shouldas going through my mind. Oh well.

So with legs spent, I silently slipped back into the peleton and rode the race comfortably in the middle, which was overly easy. Everyone knew we were racing for something like 8th. Round and round we went until we were done. Lots of lessons learned there. This sprinter needs more experience in a break situation.

On a high note, the kids race went really well. We had more kids than ever and it's always a great thing for the parents to watch their kids go round the course for a lap. Tons of thanks to Autism Outreach for sponsoring and giving the kids medals again.

And then, during the cat 3 race, mother nature showed up. And she was mad. Furious. All in the course of a few minutes, the winds were ferocious and the rain absolutely poured. Then the lightning came. It was close. Too close. Everyone held on to tents so they wouldn't blow away. The officials finally decided to pull the cat 3s off the course. Then, shortly thereafter, they canceled the rest of the races for the day. I'm not sure I would have rushed to that decision but it was their call and I support it.

Before long, everyone was outta there. The team did a great job packing and cleaning. At the end of it all, Michael, myself, and a kitted-up Pete Custer sat there in the parking lot, eating some sandwiches, exchanging a few laughs, and just chillin'. It was very cool. Little by little the weather went from rainy, to overcast, to clear, to gorgeous. Damn it. Oh well.

Da Numbas wants to thank all who came out and also to apologize for the turn of events. Michael will be sending out a note soon on the official word on the next steps. Ciao.