Ronde Von Manda

The morning following the Manor race, my mom took me out for the Ronde Von Manda near Elgin. After a quick break at the port-o-john, I rushed to the starting line to shiver in the cold breeze for a few minutes before our race started. Again I started out mid-pack, but this proved to be a worse decision than it was the day before- centerline was in effect, and I was trapped in a sorry position for once the pace picked up. As we made our first turn into the headwind, I worked hard to get up to the riders who were hammering, trying to weed out the tired or otherwise slower riders. Without a warmup I fell into that category, and as a solid break formed up ahead and the pack worked relentlessly to catch it, I was forced to drop back, and before I knew it I was off the back. A chase group formed, and I worked hard with a few other riders to get back on just as the pace picked up again and I had to sit up. I took a long break, during which I counted 4 riders pass me huffing and puffing just as hard as I was. I looked back just in time to see a 3 man train coming up fast, and started pedaling again to join their club. We each did our share and were able to catch back on just as the headwind started up again. I was discouraged to find out that 7 men had managed to get away, and after a good rest in the middle of the pack I got back up front to join the determined riders in an attempt to close the gap. Suddenly I noticed I was out of breath again, but was unwilling to let the other riders chastise me for not doing my share. After a short but hard pull, I dropped back a few positions to get behind a bigger guy. I sat up, and was surprised to discover that the pack was gone and I was in an 11 man chase group closing in on the 7 up the road. We got organized and started a paceline which involved a lot of complaining and moaning about who was doing more work than who. Despite my nearly insignificant wind shadow, I found myself up at the front taking harder pulls than others who just wanted to sit in. Their miles were numbered though, and by the last 7 miles of the 3rd lap we had dwindled to 7 or 8 with the strongest of us still closing the gap- 45 seconds with 7 miles to go. Unfortunately we began to realize that it wasn't going to happen, and mentality within our group became a lot more self-centered. with 5 k to go, 2 jumped off the front with 5 of us chasing. They got a significant gap, but we quickly got organized and formed a highly efficient paceline. I was sitting second wheel behind a strong yet somewhat inexperienced rider up front when we approached the sharpest turn on the course. He stopped pedaling in preparation to slow for it, but I shouted "take it quick! Outside inside outside!". We moved way over left and cut a sharp line through the turn without loosing so much as a second, and were close enough to the two ahead to close the gap. 3 k to go, and our reunited group dropped the pace way down. I took one short and easy pull before drifting to the back to chill for the last k. At 200 m to go the sprint started, but I didn't move very far up. 4 finished in front of me with a 5th at my side who beat me by an inch. 6th in our break with the 7th man brake up ahead, give or take a rider or two.

Ronde Von Manor

Last Saturday my dad drove me out to Ghost Town to compete in the 4/5 road race. I started off about mid-pack and just chilled for the first few miles until things started to pick up and I got into position to join any big breaks that might stay away. Only one guy seemed interested in getting away from the pack though, and nobody was inclined to follow. By the time the second of the 3 laps came around, I began getting concerned about the distance this gentleman was putting between himself and the rest of us, so I jumped up front and said "lets go get him". Unfortunately only a couple other riders were interested in the prospect. After my pull, rider 430 put in a hard solid effort before another rider took a short pull during which we lost precious seconds. I hopped back up shortly after his pull started, and the cycle continued. Eventually I got impatient and took my hardest pull yet, closing the gap to about 10 seconds just before I realized how close we were to the only significant hill on the course. I slowed down, but 430 didn't as he took his pull and closed the gap. We hit the bottom of the hill, and I could feel the rice and greenbeans from that morning coming up into my throat- I had to drop back or else risk losing nutrients I knew I would need for the rest of the race. I gagged twice and lost about 35 positions, but the food stayed down and my race continued. From there I tried to stay between 15 and 10th and just take it easy till the end, hoping it would come down to a sprint. With 5 k to go though, I saw my pal Mike Klein starting a vicious attack, and was discouraged to see 3 or 4 guys follow his wheel. Luck was on my side though, and as the decent in the last 3 or 4 k rolled up the pack closed the gap. Now I knew I had a chance- I got up to about 4th or 5th and got down real low and tight behind the large 430 rider. I barely had to pedal at all to keep up with the other riders who were clearly working much harder than myself. I got antsy at 400 meters to go and decided I felt fresh enough to start my sprint. It was a no go however, and riders started floating past around 200 k. I got onto my friend Brandon Smith's wheel, and stayed there through the finish line to take 6th place.

Fayetteville Stage Race

Early Saturday morning, the Cat 4s lined up at the starting line. I was tired and a bit low on energy, but otherwise excited for the race. We started slow, and I had no problem with sitting about mid pack and coasting at a leisurely pace. But two miles in, I heard a terrible noise- a slow hiss. I pulled over as as my tire flattened, but the wheel car was nowhere to be seen. 2 minutes passed before I saw it coming up the road, and even with my fastest wheel change I knew my chances of catching were slim. Hoping the pace stayed slow, I hammered back up the road, shouting at another rider who had flatted to get it changed quick so we could work together. A couple minutes later he caught on, and together we started pushing until the pack was in sight. Before we were close, though, I saw an attack on the hill- the pack took off, and we were left in the dust. Devastated and surely in last place, I let the other rider go as I decided to take a leisurely pace. My comfortable ride took a turn for the worst as it began to rain though. As temperatures began to drop, I lost my will to complain to the empty road around me, and instead was forced to tell myself over and over that I was not going to freeze to death. 20 miles and another flat tire later, I began to hyperventilate without exertion and began to seriously worry about my well being. If it had been an option, I would most likely have called it quits, but I decided it was better to be riding than freezing in a ball on the side of the road. After I finished, I sat inside for 20 minutes, shivering so hard my entire body was cramping. Easily the coldest I had been in my entire life.

I had made it to the time trial however, and was excited to be riding my favorite track bike for the course. Starting with a tailwind, I was forced to spin a 115 cadence as I took off down the road. The first turn quickly approached, but the directing official was up the road concerned with something else going on. Assuming that he'd known I was coming and would not have left his post if it was an intended turn, I continued straight, hearing him shout moments later for me to turn around. I did so slowly, unable to brake on my fixed gear, and was passed by my 30 second and minute man before I was back on track. I quickly got into a groove though, and working much harder than before caught both men just before the start of the uphill last few kilometers. In much too high a gear ratio, I did all I could to keep my pace of 12 mph with a cadense of less than 50 rpm. Somehow I was not caught by either men during this section, and finished with a position of 39th, about 20 places behind where I would have been had I not lossed a minute or so.

With high hopes for at least some chance at upgrade points, I road hard for the first lap of the 3 lap course Sunday morning. With men up the road, I did my share of work to help the pack catch them by the end of the first lap. Things then heated up, and our field stretched out into a giant snake of riders with gaps opening left and right. I worked hard to keep a good position in the lead pack, but as our tailwind picked up, I momentarily ran out of gears before I remembered to put it in the big ring. That was all it needed for a gap to open up as I was popped off the back, working my ass off to get back on. I thought I was done just before a poorly organized chase group caught up to me. Trying to work together with anyone I could, a few of us stayed in close proximity to the slightly slowed lead pack. After being dropped by a man I had been working with, a large, tall rider came up slowly along side me. I hopped on his wheel thinking it was my lucky day, but with less than a 15 second break in his windshadow, he began swerving to the side and waving me ahead. Of course, being about twice my size I wasn't the wind block he had hoped for, and he quickly fell off my pull. Just when all hope seemed lost, I became the third in a group of 2 riders, and taking hard, quick pulls we made it back into the pack as it slowed to a very social pace. The next lap and a half followed this slow speed as I had plenty of time to start thinking about my apetite. Despite our low efforts, I noticed crampy twitches in my legs as my stomach began to growl. 1 k from the finish line the pace finally picked up, though I found it hard to keep a top 10 position. Exhausted, I threw in the towel with 200 meters to go as the entire pack passed me and I finished last in the group, coasting through the finish.

The weekend was hardly a loss in my mind though. I loved spending time with the team and sharing stories from our woeful races. Most importantly, I reached new limits of endurance for both the elements and my burning legs, and am happy to be stronger for them.