Mtnracer

What a disappointment! I’m not even in the OBRA results… Although, it would say a big-fat DNF, I like seeing my name in print.

Short answer, here’s what happened: No, I didn’t get dropped again. I flatted out.

Long answer:

I arrived at Hagg Lake with good time to warm up. I didn’t bring my trainer, so I was going to have to get in a good warm up on the road. Another benefit of my arriving early to this race, is that there is no waiting line for the restroom (yet) - way to go coffee drinkers!

So, I registered, took my time getting dressed in the cramped quarters of my father in-law’s Silverado, made sure that I had my three clif shots, two full water bottles, and headed out on my warm up. One thing I realized while warming up is that I was stupid in not bringing my pump and saddle bag, because if I got a flat 4 miles out on my warm up, I didn’t have my phone to call Stacey, and I didn’t have a wheel car, so I would have been royally screwed. Luckily (or maybe not luckily), I didn’t flat on my warm up. I made it to the start of the race with a warm sense of false security.

I lined up at the front with my old time buddy Devin, and nervously surged with the rest of the pack as the whistle was blown. Although I was at the front, I had absolutely no intentions of working hard, breaking away, or otherwise putting in some sort of 77-mile suicide attack (Jacky Durand anyone?). I did, however, comically mention to Devin that “now would be the time to break away,” right as the race got off to a rolling start. Maybe he just wanted to show that he had the balls to do it, and I didn’t, (or perhaps he overheard my semi-sarcastic remark to Devin) Erik Tonkin immediately attacked and had two or three other guys fly up with him. I kicked back, but remained in the front 20, just to keep an eye on any major explosions.

Given that this was my first race feeling strong, I didn’t want to go ahead and chase down a bunch of futile breakaways, then not have any legs for the final lap. So, I watched the guys go, and didn’t respond myself. Fortune (or buff legs) has it that this ended up being the winning breakaway…but I didn’t know that at the time (and even if I did, I don’t know if I would have tried to bridge or go with).

The first few laps were semi-paced mostly with CMG putting in the pace at the front. I stayed in the front 20 most of the time, gaining places when people would coast, and letting the slack catch up when I saw stupid attacks at the front.

Let me better explain - the Banana Belt race is 7 laps around an 11 mile course with rolling “hills” and something like only 700 feet per lap of climbing. Now, with no winding downhills or steep extended climbs, a pack or a well-coordinated group has an advantage over any individual. So, when there is a breakaway at the front of 6 guys pacelining, and a pack of 60 other guys putting in efforts to catch the break, no individual (barring Cancellara or perhaps Zabriskie) can solo bridge up to the breakaway…no one. However, during this race, there were multiple guys from individual or smaller teams putting in attacks at the crest of hills. This cracked me up - what do they think they are doing? Showing off? Camera time? I think not…

Anyway, the third-fifth laps were increasing in pace, so I was paying extra attention to my pack placement, making sure that I didn’t get caught shooting out the back like I did at Cherry Pie. However, I didn’t see “red,” and actually felt quite ready for a strong sprint.

Halfway up a molehill in the fifth lap, I started feeling this rhythmic bumping through my rear tire. I squiggled a little and didn’t feel a flat, so I figured it was the road I was feeling. Next, I hear this loud “Bang!” My rim drops to the pavement and I lose control. On the left side of the road, I yell “F$#%!,” and pull off the side. I actually forgot that there was a wheel car, as it has been so long since I needed one (I think the last one I used was at a collegiate race in ‘05). I ran from the left-side of the road to the right and shifted in to my small cog.By this time, the pack was far out of sight. I told the guy “Campy 10-rear!” He said, “Campy 9-rear!?” I said, “ok…(I guess) *grumble, grumble*.”

After the switch was made, I hammered as hard as I could for about three minutes. At one point, I actually saw the pack way ahead at the crest of a hill off in the distance, but I knew that my catch-up would be futile, unless they (for some strange reason) slowed down. Basically, I was hoping that they would catch the break at the top of the crest, and all slow down for a pack finish.

Alas…it was not to be. Hating to DNF, I decided that I would finish the last few laps solo, anyway. So, I soloed it around to finish number 5, 6, and then coming in to 7, I got passed by the finishing pack of category 3’s. Realizing that if they were finishing, the 1/2’s wouldn’t be far behind, so I might miss my chance to get my wheel from the wheel guy before he headed out with the next few races.

This might have been an excuse to not have to ride another 11 miles, but even if it was, I don’t feel too terrible about it. I soloed for almost 20 on my own up to that point, and to finish it would have just been to save face (not to mention keep my wife waiting another 30+ minutes for me to get dead last anyway).

So, that was it. I felt strong, raced strong, and got unlucky.

Today, I went out and bought some new tires. I completely exploded my rear tire and tube (I guess all those miles on the trainer on my race tires is a bad idea?!).

Until next time…

-Andy

This entry was posted on Wednesday, March 19th, 2008 at 11:17 am and is filed under Racing. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.