Team Family: Gateway Canyon
Road
September 2, 2006
Five weeks ago I was dismissed from the Rocky Mounts – Izze
cycling team. While most of this was due to my hot-headed and emotional reaction
to an incident, I was disappointed to not be riding with most of my team.
But I was glad not being associated with four riders who I believe are unethical,
illogical, and/or liars. Yes, I’m still very pissed off about this. I won't
rehash it here, except to identify the characters and my grudge with them
(you can read more of the story here).
Rocky Mountain Cup
The Rocky Mountain Cup is a season-long competition for the
best overall road racer. It included six long road races and points are given
for first (45 points) through tenth (15 points). After the first three races, I
was leading this competition, but the brutally hilly Salida race dropped me
into second place, four points behind Rocky Mounts rider and good friend, Chris
Busacca. There were two races to go:
The
I suspected the big move would come on the big climb out of Whitewater on the return trip. I figured to be dropped here and that Rocky Mounts would have a few riders up the road with Chris. How would I ever get back up to the front group? I knew I could be a factor at the finish, if I could just be there at the finish, but without a few teammates, getting back up there would be impossible. So, I recruited a teammate…
Team Family
I needed either two really strong riders or one superhuman rider. I didn’t know many riders that would fit this bill, as most riders this strong were already Cat. 3 riders or better. I sent an email to my sister Kim’s boyfriend, Russ Bollig, and to my brother in-law, Kraig Koski. Russ was a former Cat. 2 rider, so he couldn’t race Cat. 4, but Kraig was game. I don’t know what went on behind the scenes at Brook and Kraig’s house, but I know my sister and I’m sure it was made very clear how proud and happy she would be if Kraig did this race for me.
Kraig is an aerobic monster. He’s qualified for the Hawaii
Ironman, mainly on the strength of his bike time trialing ability. Kraig,
can climb with the best of them. He was 2nd at the Horgan hill
climb and beat all 
Team Family didn’t just consist of the racing team. Since Russ couldn't race he was indispensable as my training partner. We did long rides in the mountains each Wednesday. Then I had Jeff Valliere serving as my bike mechanic. Jeff is a former pro bike racer. We had a real team effort going for this race.
Forced Upgrade!?
On the Tuesday before the race, I got an email from Yvonne van Gent, the director of the ACA, telling me that I was now a Cat. 3 rider because I had 37.3 points and it was mandatory to upgrade after getting 30 points. I had previously received an upgrade email from her asking me if I wanted to upgrade after I had the required 20 points, but it was optional at that point and I declined. Now I really didn’t want to upgrade. I was in a tight battle for the Rocky Mountain Cup and this would end that. I had Kraig all lined up to help me and his entire family was planning to come out for the weekend. I needed to get this resolved immediately.
My records had me at 24 points and I had resisted riding any criteriums for fear of forcing an upgrade with a good result. I asked Yvonne to send me her point tally for me. Upon investigating this I discovered that I was given 5.37 points for winning the North Boulder Criterium. I thought I didn’t get any points from this race because the field size was less than 30 riders, but I was given prorated points, hence the .3 points in my total. That still only gave me 29.37 points, though, and I was less than a point away from 30, but still under the forced upgrade. The difference was that she gave me 7 points for winning Boulder Roubaix and 1 point for getting 6th at the Boulder Beer race, both of which were unsanctioned, non-ACA races and shouldn’t count towards an upgrade.
It took a couple more emails to convince Yvonne of all this, but she eventually relented. She also made it absolutely clear that if I scored a single point at Gateway Canyons, I’d be a Cat. 3 and wouldn’t be allowed to race the final race in the Cup in the 35+/Cat. 4 category. I didn’t get this resolved until Friday morning, less than 24 hours before leaving for the race.
This issue really highlights the problem with a season-long series in categories where you can be upgraded. This isn’t a problem for 35+ Open, but is a problem for Cat. 4 and Cat. 3. Interestingly, they don’t have this competition for Pro-1-2 where this conflict wouldn’t exist. Later Yvonne would tell me that they aren’t going to do a Rocky Mountain Cup next year. This is unfortunate, as it really adds some interest to the season and gives riders an incentive to compete at all the Cup races.
Preparation and Strategy
I learned from Chris that the Rocky Mounts – Izze was bringing their four strongest riders: Brad, Scott, and Bruce to back up Chris. I expected no less, but had hoped for a weaker team to compete against. We’d have to deal with it. Our strategy was to keep our alliance a secret and not reveal Kraig’s presence. While all the Rocky Mounts riders were by now quite familiar with Kraig’s name and his awesome ability, they didn’t know what he looked like. We’d be careful not to be seen together, so that no questions would be raised.
Our plan was to conserve as much energy as possible before the anticipated chase. We wanted to stay with the leaders up the first climb, but do no more work than necessary. Once I’m dropped on the climb out of Whitewater, Kraig paces me up the climb and then we bury ourselves trying to get back on. If we succeed, then I cover Chris Busacca and Kraig launches attacks, if he still has any energy left.
Gateway to Whitewater
Sheri and I drove out to
The race started at 8:30 a.m. and the field was pretty small, only about 20-25 riders. At first the pace was reasonable and we chatted on the way out of town. Pat Varley, a big rider at 214 pounds, was in this race. He’s a strong rider and I talked to him about combining forces for a chase, should it be necessary, but with his size, it wasn’t likely he’d be able to match me on the climbs.
On these easy miles, some of the Rocky Mounts riders were looking for me, but didn’t recognize me in my new red kit. At one point Scott was right next to me and I said, “Hi, Scott.” He ignored me and looked over his shoulder and all around me, looking for me. I said hi again and he finally recognized me. We’re friendly, unlike I am with Bruce and Brad. On these easy miles I realized that I had forgotten to bring my Endurolyte salt tablets. These babies are essential to avoid muscle cramps as you dehydrate on a long, hot race. I bemoaned this situation to Chris Busacca and he immediately dug into this jersey pocket, saying, “I think I have a bunch. I’ll give my extras.” What a guy! The jokes started in the back about Chris’ drugs and if he had enough for everyone.
When we hit the first climb, Rocky Mounts went right to the front and hit the gas. They hurt everyone in the field, including Chris Busacca, who takes a long time to warm-up. By the time we hit the top of the climb, the field was trimmed to only ten riders, but Kraig and I were still there. At the top of the climb, everyone took at least one bottle at the feed zone.
Once atop the climb, the group started to work together. This was the right move, as we didn’t want any of the other riders coming back on us. Kraig and I took our turns at the front. With ten riders and pulls of 20-30 seconds, this wasn’t very stressful despite our high speed. As we descended into Whitewater, we caught a big group of Cat. 4 riders and a smaller group of dropped 45+ riders. We got all mixed together and this wasn’t good.
Before the turn-around, Chris rode up next to me and says, “Okay, Bill, here’s the plan. We’re all going to attack on the climb out of Whitewater. I figured you’d already know that, but I don’t want you caught unaware.” Chris was telling me his team plan to drop me. How often does this happen?
Chris Busacca is by far the chattiest rider in the Peloton, but his voluminous speech covers precisely two subjects: attacking and peeing. Chris always needs to pee in a long road race and he’s always trying to organize a pee stop, though never succeeding in my experience. Because of these failures, he’s become very adept at peeing while riding and he’s inspired me to learn this skill as well. But today, it seems like the pee stop is on. The plan was for our group of ten to stop, pee, and let the other groups get ahead of us, so that we wouldn’t be mixed together. Of course, we didn’t want to stop for long and let anyone catch us.
But catch us, they did, even before the pee stop. Our soft pedaling once on the steep descent allowed a group of five riders, including Pat Varley, to catch us. I was surprised to see this and congratulated Pat on his great chase.
Whitewater to Gateway
Once we made the decision to stop and pee, I couldn’t wait. The pressure on my bladder increased and I longed for the pee stop at the turn-around. So, you can imagine my distress when, after turning around and getting a couple of new bottles, Chris informed me that the pee stop was off! One rider wasn’t interested in stopping. I asked Chris, “Are you going to pee on the bike?” and he said that he had already gone, on the descent. Ack! I now felt like I was duped. I had to pee, but if I stopped the group didn’t, I’d be off the back.
I pulled up next to Kraig and said, “You’re going to have to push me, while I pee. I have to go.” Later he’d say he was thinking, “Hey, I didn’t sign up this!” but he was ready to do it. After the turn-around, I was near Chris and he agreed to push me. This isn’t the type of behavior you’d expect from your biggest rival, but nothing up to this point was what you’d expect. Simply put, Chris Busacca exemplifies the best sportsmanship I’ve ever seen. He’s a fierce competitor and desperately wants to win, but only on the most level playing field he can arrange. He’s inspiring.
Shortly after I peed, the group agreed to stop and pee! Aarrgghh. I rode on, not having to pee, with two other riders, but I rode no-handed and slow until everyone was back in the lead group. Kraig stopped with everyone else to pee.
When we got to the start of the climb, Brad couldn’t wait any longer. He went to the front and hit the gas. The pace jumped immediately and the group strung out without delay. I was the 7th rider in the line and barely hanging on, but after a couple minutes, no one was behind me, not even Kraig. He was dropped. I wasn’t worried about Kraig, though. He does his own pace and I knew he’d come back.
Right in front of me was Brad now, but he was suffering. I was surprised when he popped off the group. I had to go around and close the gap and now there was only six of us in front. I held on for a few more minutes, but my heart rate was 176 bpm and I was going to blow up. I had to drop off and I did. I could see the Rocky Mounts riders looking over their shoulder and knowing they had shed me. That was their plan. There were still three Rocky Mounts riders in the lead group and they did all the work on the climb, trying to build as big of a lead over me as possible. Behind, I just kept my heart rate above 170 bpm and suffered away, trying to limit the damage, to limit the gap we’d have to close.
A couple minutes after I got dropped, Kraig rides back up to me, with Brad on his wheel. Kraig immediately moves in front of me, to pace me up the climb. Brad attacks us and goes clear. This was curious move. Clearly he didn’t think he was going to catch the lead group, as he was dropped by them. Did he think he was going to solo the rest of the way to the finish? Maybe he thought the lead group would wait for him? No way. He should have tried to hang with us, getting a free ride and hampering our chase effort.
Kraig and I just kept up a steady pace. Occasionally, I popped off the back of his wheel, but I didn’t have the breath to say anything and it didn’t matter much while going 8 mph on this climb. Soon we caught Brad and went right on by. That was the last we’d see of him and he’d ride the rest of the race solo, finishing 8 minutes behind the lead group.
When we reached the top of the steep climbing, we were at least two minutes behind the lead group, maybe three. Was the task impossible? Could one guy catch five riders?
Superman Cometh: Kraig’s Chase
Kraig was recruited to this race to do exactly this: chase down the lead break. Now the race was unfolding exactly how I thought it would. Kraig and I had talked about this and now there wasn’t anything left to say, only the work that needed to be done. Wordlessly, Kraig went to the front and proceeded to bury himself with a superhuman effort.
Up front the lead group was being followed by the support truck. The lead riders were offered drinks and had immediate wheel support. They were also given updates on the race situation. After breaking away on the climb, the lead five riders worked together for twenty miles to consolidate their break. They asked the support driver, “Is anyone coming back on us?” and he responded, “No. Everyone else is done.” What the driver and the riders in the group didn’t know was who was behind them: Superman. And as the song lyrics so aptly warn, “You don’t tug on Superman’s cape.” Rocky Mounts had tugged on the wrong guy’s cape…and now he was coming for them.
For pure aerobic power there was no one in this race comparable to Kraig, yet the task before him was presumed to be impossible by everyone in the race. Everyone that is, except for two of us. Kraig did probably 80% of the work from now on. Occasionally I had to tell him to slow down a bit and he immediately responded. I’d pull through whenever I felt I wasn’t on the rivet. Kraig would pull left and give me the elbow flick when he needed a break. I’d do as much work as I could to give him a rest. I’d never pull over, but when my pace dropped enough, Kraig would come back to the front, back to the impossible chore.
After thirty minutes of hard effort, we weren’t gaining. Kraig said as much to me and I could hear the frustration in his voice. I might have even detected a touch of resignation. I encouraged him. “There is still 25 miles to go. Eventually the lead group will start attacking each other and when they do, they will slow down. We can’t give up now. We’ll get them.” I’d have said about anything to keep Superman working at the front and work he did.
Kraig and I came through the feed zone at the summit at 23 mph. My first attempt to snag a bottle made it quite evident that this was too fast. I slowed and the second hand-off was successful. Stocked with our last bottles, we continued our determined, manic chase. Each time we came upon and blew by a group of riders, I searched in vain for a 700-series number, which would indicate a dropped rider from the lead group. Each time we’d power by the group of dropped riders from either the Cat. 4, 45+, or some other category, they’d look to be sure we weren’t in their race and then fade quickly behind us. One group told us about the lead group up front, as if we didn’t know where we stood. We knew.
Kraig and I finally started to pull back the lead group. Up ahead the attacks had started while still 20 miles from the finish. This was a mistake, but Scott and Chris wanted to start the attacks while the terrain was still rolling and not all downhill, but the attacks stopped the group from working together. It slowed their pace and we then ate up the distance between us. Finally we had some encouragement and it provided a great incentive to us both. We felt success was now possible.
As we neared the lead group and its support pick-up, I took over the lead. So focused was I on making the catch, so oblivious to absolutely everything by the tail end of that group, that I didn’t even pause behind the support vehicle before passing it on the left at the exact time that a semi-truck was coming the other way. I hardly noticed the four-foot wide tunnel of death down which I rode. In fact, I didn’t fully realize what I had done until Kraig brought it up hours after the race ended. He wisely waited for the truck to pass before joining me at the back of the lead group.
The catch had been made. The chase was successful. The battle for the win and the Cup was joined. Game on. We had twelve miles to the finish. My heart rate hadn’t dipped below 170 bpm for the last hour, ever since the attack on the climb out of Whitewater. I hadn’t produced an effort like that all year, not in any time trial, not in any hill climb. I was wasted, but determined to stay in the game.
We sat quietly at the back for less than 30 seconds before
our presence was felt by Scott and Chris, who were riding at the back. Chris
glanced over his shoulder and then did a double-take, astounded to see my
red kit back in the group. Our arrival caused a mild panic in the group. They
searched frantically for other chasers and got confused with riders from other
groups. The
Chris and Scott tried to organize the group to work together again, fearing that other riders would also catch on. I didn’t think that was the case (rightly, as it turned out), but more importantly, I didn’t care if they did. In fact, it would have worked to my advantage. Remember that the main goal in this race was to finish ahead of Busacca and with as many riders between us as possible.
At one point Scott berated me, “Come on, Bill! Work!” I don’t know if this was a psychological ploy or just ignorance on his part. There was absolutely no way I was going to work with these guys. Why? It could only hurt my chances. Bike racers tend to get all pissed off if riders in a break won’t work, but I could care less how pissed off they get. I wasn’t here to make friends. I was here to race. And, no, I wasn’t going to be building any future alliances with these guys. Frequently working in a break is the right thing to do and we all did on the way out, but working in this break now was stupid and Kraig and I weren’t stupid. I glued myself to Busacca’s wheel and never pulled through.
Attacks
Chris and Scott were the Rocky Mounts riders to be concerned with. Scott was the most talented overall bike racer in the group and I wouldn’t waste any energy covering any attacks by him. I ignored him for two reasons. First, I didn’t want to waste energy covering his attacks that I might need to cover Busacca’s attacks. Second, I knew that Busacca himself would chase down any attacks by Scott. This is crazy from a team tactics point of view, but Rocky Mounts never rides that way. Busacca is too competitive to ever sit back and let the race go up the road without him, regardless of who is up the road, including his own teammates. I think there is nothing wrong with this attitude and I share it. He wasn’t getting paid by Rocky Mounts and he didn’t race to support others. He doesn’t race for second place. He let me ride off to a solo victory at the Boulder Roubaix race in April and he vowed to never let that happen again.
Bruce was of no concern. His race was effectively over. He was no threat to breakaway and possessed absolutely no sprint. He was destined to get last in this group. His best hope at this point was to not get dropped by the inevitable attacks. He could have helped his teammates by constantly attacking. Chasing him down wouldn’t be hard, but would require the other two riders to work and possibly weaken them for the stronger attacks by Scott and Chris. But Rocky Mounts didn’t think of this and Bruce was the invisible man for the remainder of the race.
The other two riders were obviously strong since they survived the climb and the early attacks. Tim rode in a yellow kit and the other rider was in a dark kit. I don’t remember but one or two attacks by these guys and they were chased down by Scott or Chris. I don’t remember any attacks by Scott, which surprised me. What didn’t surprise me was the numerous attacks by Busacca. I was on his wheel and chased down every single one. This effort sapped me greatly and I wondered how many more I could neutralize. In retrospect, I should have had Kraig up here chasing each one of these down.
Why didn’t I? First, I figured Kraig had to be wasted by the chase. Second, the reason Kraig doesn’t do more bike races is that he has a hard time with violent accelerations. Even the surge at the start of the hill on the return trip was too much for him. These attacks were much more pronounced and frankly I assumed that Kraig would get dropped by them. I figured he’d catch back on as everyone sat up after an attack was brought back, but that he wouldn’t be much use in chasing attacks down. The difference was that everyone was wasted from 80 miles of hard racing and the attacks, while seemingly brutal to me, were much mellower when viewed through the superior endurance of Kraig. Despite the chase, Kraig had more in the tank than the rest of us.
You might be wondering why I didn’t attack. Attacking is cool. Attacking is bold. Attacking is winning with style and verve. But it was more important to me to win, than to look good losing. With the possible exception of Scott, I knew I was best sprinter left in the group. My best chance for winning was to conserve was much energy as possible until we had 200 meters to go. Maybe Scott was thinking the same thing and that accounted for his lack of attacks as well. I had to race smart and keep my eye on the ball. If I attacked, everyone, save Kraig, would chase me down. If it came to it, the three Rocky Mounts riders could work together to chase me down. We were going downhill, so moving along at 25 mph, but into a headwind. No, a solo break wasn’t going to work for me.
About five miles out Kraig attacked and went clear with one other rider. After a bit, Scott jumped across and they had three and a good gap. I wasn’t going to chase it down. I knew Chris would. Up ahead the group might have stayed away, but Kraig wasn’t sure who Scott was. If it was Chris, he couldn’t work with him. I had identified all the players at the start of the race, but everyone looks the same in a bike kit and in the midst of an intense race he wasn’t going to be able to identify the players with complete confidence. Kraig stopped working and so did the other rider. It was now Scott’s turn to be frustrated. The break was pulled back after about a mile or so.
Chris constantly attacked and wanted me to work with him to reduce the field. I pulled through once, when we had a tiny break, but eased up once I got to the front. I couldn’t afford to empty myself on the front because I knew Chris would attack me. After a number of tries and clearly frustrated with me, Chris asks in exasperation, “Bill! Do you want to win or do you want to beat me?” Actually, I wanted to do both, but I just responded, “Beat you.”
Chris must have attacked ten times, without success. He finally started taking to Tim, one of the other unattached riders. He said, “That guy in red and I are in a battle for the Rocky Mountain Cup. You can ride this wheel all the way to the finish and never have to chase me down.” Chris was desperate for something to shake me up.
Finish
With about 700 meters to there, there is a significant rise
in the road. I feared anyone attacking at the bottom of this hill, since I
didn’t have much left to give. At the crest of the hill, Kraig attacked hard
and went clear. The rest took awhile to react and I got on Chris’ wheel, hoping
for a nice lead out. Scott went after Kraig with the rest of us in hot pursuit.
There was a final 90-degree turn at 200 meters to go. I was last in the group
at this point – not the position I wanted. And things got worse. 
Trying to move up on the inside, Tim suddenly moved right, forcing me into the dirt on the side of the road. I immediately had a flashback to the Hugo Race where I was run completely off the road with two kilometers to go. The “100 Meters To Go” sign was dead in front of me and I thought a crash was imminent. I couldn’t let things end like that after everything Kraig had done for me. I leaned left to squeak by the sign and my left pedal ripped the rear derailleur cable off of Tim’s bike. He wasn’t able to shift any longer. I hope he was in the right gear.
I powered by Tim on the right, but the door was closed ahead. I had to veer all the way over to the left ala Robbie McEwen in Stage ? of the 2006 Tour de France. I moved up between the riders with Kraig and Bruce on my left and Tim, Chris, and dark-kit guy on my right. I didn’t have much time left and punched it with all I had. I powered by everyone else to take 2nd place in the race. Unfortunately for my Cup hopes, Busacca held on for 3rd place. Kraig sat up once Scott passed him, fearing that it might be Busacca and he’d take points from me. Everyone got by him before he crossed, so he took 7th. Bruce was 6th. Tim was 4th.
Just after the finish, a still frustrated Busacca yelled at me “Bill, you could have won that race!” What? Is that what he wanted? Of course not. His team won. He was frustrated that his breakaway attempts had failed. He wanted to win himself, not me. I responded just as heatedly, “Working with you would have been stupid, Chris! You’d have just attacked me.” Bruce stuck his nose in here and said, “Calm down, Bill.” I’ve had more than enough of this guy, though he did congratulate me for the chase and the good finish. That was classy of him and something I didn’t expect out of him, given his past behavior. I congratulated Scott on his well deserved victory.
After we circled back to the finish, Chris and I immediately
shook off the race comments. Chris plays the psychological game of shaming
others to work, against what is best for them. I knew it and I didn’t play,
but he did get me to go to the front at least twice. He’s good at it, but
he knows it’s a tactic and immediately explained that he wasn’t pissed at
me at all. It was just him trying to do everything he could to win.
I pulled up next to Kraig and soon Chris rode up as well. I said, “Chris, let me introduce to my brother in-law, Kraig Koski. Superman.” Chris smiled knowingly. He didn’t know what Kraig looked like, but he knew who he was and what he was capable of doing. Well, he probably didn’t think anyone was capable of single-handedly chasing down a working break of five strong riders. He now knows one guy who can.
I think we had executed near perfect teamwork considering my weaknesses. Kraig was the difference between me finishing 2nd and me finishing 7th or 8th or even worse. Who knows what other riders would have caught me as I rode solo the last 35 miles to the finish. One super strong, dedicated teammate made an absolutely huge difference. This is why bike racing is so fun. It is very tactical and very exciting and you can't tell what's going to happen in a race until it does.
Awards and Dinner
We had to wait quite awhile for the awards, but finally we were called to the podium to get our ribbons and our checks. Waiting to be called up, I sat alone until Chris came over and sat with me. He said, “You can come sit with us, if you want.” I didn’t have any desire to hang out with the Rocky Mounts riders. Chris sat with me and we made plans to meet for dinner.
Kraig, Sheri, and I drove back to
Cat. 3
The race for the Rocky Mountain Cup was over for me now. I
earned five points with my 2nd place finish and now had 34.7 points.
My appeal to Yvonne to finish the fight for the Cup fell on deaf ears. She said
others had already upgraded, but the only rider that has upgraded was Steve
Young, a very good road rider and sprinter, but a big guy who couldn’t climb
and wouldn’t be a threat for the overall Cup. Nevertheless, I was out. Chris
had won the Cup and I had finished 2nd, regardless of what happens
at the final race at
Gateway Canyons Criterium
Chris Busacca convinced me to come do one last race as a Cat. 4. Technically I wasn’t a Cat. 4 rider anymore, but I talked to Yvonne after the road race. I said, “Yvonne, doesn’t it take a few days to process the points from this road race? Could I race the crit tomorrow in this same category?” She rolled her eyes and then said, “Sure.”
I rode over to the race, which was being held in downtown Fruita, from Loobster’s house. I had 11 miles in before I arrived there and I immediately ran into Chris. After signing up and pinning on my number, Chris and I went for another warm-up ride. By the time I queued for the race, Sheri had arrived to watch.
The field wasn’t large, about twenty riders. I was extremely relaxed about this race. I didn’t have any big expectations for the race, but in the back of my mind I thought it would be great to end my career as a Cat. 4 rider with a win. It would be so appropriate. Chris, of course, was making plans for attacks.
I held onto the officials’ platform to get both feet clipped in – my new crit strategy to counterattack my retarded bungling at the start. I was staged near the back, very casual like, but as soon as the gun went off, I moved up to the 4th or 5th wheel. I didn’t stay there that long, though. The field was small and the streets were wide. I figured a crash to be unlikely and that I didn’t need to work hard to stay at the front all the time so I occasionally floated to the back.
The course was a dumbbell: at one end was a 360-degree roundabout at one end and a four-turn, one-block turn-around at the other end. The “bar” was the same street and we went both directions on this street (always on the right side). There were four or five primes in the race and most of the time people launched very early for these primes. The 4th prime was for a 10-day pass to Telluride and a local rider went for this from about a lap out. Turns out he only entered this race for that prime. He stayed away and just buried himself for the prime. He crossed the line with both hands in the air and the crowd going wild. I don’t think he even finished the race.
Chris drafted Tim, the guy from the road race the day before, to join forces with him and I for an attempted break-away. We hit it hard and had a slight gap, but not much. I pulled through near the start/finish line and then I see Tim sprinting by me. What the? Oh, it’s another prime. Tim had one the 2nd prime and this was the 3rd one. I didn’t even realize it until he went, screwing up our breakaway, a bit. I couldn’t have him just going by me like that, so I jumped and won the prime with a bike throw. It was a two-day kayak rental, so that will come in handy on a future trip out here to see the Loobster.
We kept the breakaway attempt going for another half a lap, but it wasn’t working and we sat up. The race went with one breakaway attempt after another, but with easy riding in between. It was a strange crit and one where I found my heartrate down in the 140’s a lot. Normally I’m above 160 for the entire duration of a Criterium.
With breakaways not working and my heartrate pretty low, I
decided to conserve all my energy for the finish. I was reminded of a line
by the stock car racing king, Richard Petty. In stock car racing they keep
track of how many laps you lead during a race, though it doesn’t really mean
that much. Petty was famous for ignoring this statistic and saying, “I’m only
interested in leading one lap…the last one.” Me too.
Tim launched a solo bid with two laps to go and worked hard. He stayed away for nearly an entire lap, but the effort sapped him and he faded in the finish.
With a lap to go, I was nearly at the back, but not worried, yet. I knew I needed to be in the top five at worst, going into the final 4-corner turn-around, but didn’t want to waste any energy moving up prematurely. We went hard into the roundabout, but the field eased coming out of it and I moved up to 5th position, just in time to see Chris launch a last, desperate attack. It wasn’t strong enough though and the field was on him. Then a big guy, on the only 3-man team in the race, took off on the inside and he had a huge gap and only 3 corners and a straightaway to go. A racer in red and white went after him and I grabbed his wheel as we went by Chris. Chris yelled, “Go, Bill!” and I thought he’d sat up, but he kept fighting all the way to the line.
The red/white guy was in a bad spot. He had to chase the leader down and didn’t have time for any games. If he sat up, I’d attack him and not just pull through. We were inside of 500 meters now and the red/white guy was working hard and bringing the leader back. I was sitting on his wheel and fairly comfortable, but we must have been going hard because no one was coming around. I waited until the red/white guy stood to sprint at around 200 meters. He had done all the work to bring the leader back and the leader was fading. He went a bit too early. The red/white guy stood and went right. I stood and went left and really punched the gas. I was feeling completely fresh and had everything left. I smoked towards the finish in the 12 and then hit the 11 and was gone, taking the win with a good gap and my fist in the air!
What a way to finish my Cat. 4 racing career. Granted the field was small and wasn’t stacked with any quality sprinters, but a win is still pretty sweet and pretty rare and the timing of this one was prefect. Chris held on for 6th place, earning some upgrade points. He was at 29 before this race, but the small field size would keep him just a few tenths of a point below the mandatory upgrade of 30 points. He wasn’t satisfied, though, and after some deliberation entered the straight Cat. 4 race. He’s a racing fiend.
I picked up my winner’s check, which just covered my entry fee. My 2nd place check from the day before covered the road racing entry fee. Ah the riches of Cat. 4 racing!
I biked back to Loobster’s house, showered and Sheri and I headed out to bag some 14ers. What a nice weekend of racing. Team Family did well in its debut…