Tuesday Night Twilights #4

A beautiful, near windless night greeted for at the 7:10 start. A 30-40-ish strong, really stellar field of racers was present, including:

Pistachio pros - 3
Norcal Bike Factory Team guys - 3
Echelon - 2
Cal Giant - 1
Whole Athlete - 2
Colavita - 2
Bobas - 4 or so
Red Peloton riders - seemingly millions

Once again, the race took off agonizingly fast. But chastened by the last two couple of twilights, I refrained from trying to force a selection early for fear that my effort would only serve as a springboard to the real move. This exercise in humility was helpful as I was able to watch early moves come and go, and pick which ones looked best. The Cal Giant rider was going with freaking everything! Ah, youth: It's like he had a full matchbook and was not afraid to toss a few lighted sticks around. For my part, my matchbook had made it through the wash with only two or three soggy matches remaining and as such was husbanding them carefully.

The peloton, unspoken, collectively feared the Pistachio team and waited for them to take the race by the scruff of the neck. Surprisingly this never happened. The only rider of theirs who appeared to have any game at all last night was the big man, Sterling Magnell. One of their riders apparently abandoned mid-race for whatever reason.

Toward the middle of the race that big Echelon rider, the same high-wattage freak from last week, forced the issue several times and once got away with the Cal Giant rider. You would think this would be a break that would work: two big, capable young strong bulls taking even pulls. However they never got more than ten seconds away from a very watchful pack. We kept them out there to fade on their own. Cycling can be a cruel sport that way.

I followed wheels and attacked crisply once and formed a small group that had talented riders but lacked cohesion. I would tell you who I was with but my memory of this moment was zapped by the intensely anaerobic effort required to bridge up to them. Nevertheless, we were hauled back and nothing came of it.

It wasn't too long before the big Echelon guy gets off the front with an equally large (and tatted up) Norcal rider who is strong and whom I've not seen before. Maybe a MTB racer? They come through the S/F and the bell is rung for a prime lap. The pack is behind now by several seconds and it seems like the prime would be contested between these two. I sit tight a few riders in as we navigate the serpentine backside of the course. Exiting the bottom turn the duo had a healthy lead and the two were jockeying and positioning themselves for the sprint.

Luckily, intuition served me well last night: I sensed an opportunity and jumped really hard at the exit to the bottom turn and got away cleanly from the field and put in what is for me a huge effort. Up the straightaway I started hauling the two riders in. Up front their sprint was engaged, but I had a clean run at them and was going half again faster. I overhauled the Norcal rider who had gotten the better of the Echelon guy, right on the line to beat him for a bottle of Pinot. I've got to say, it is a well-known fact that wine  plundered always tastes much better than wine purchased.

Immediately the Cal Giant rider swings past me putting in a hell of an attack. This is followed by Sterling, Glenn Fant (ex-pro, NorCal), Gianpaolo Pesce (boba) and a whole athlete rider. It took me a half lap to claw my way back up to this move, the field behind ripped apart. It seemed to have a good makeup of very strong riders. The only problem was there was no Red Peloton presence. We were drilling it for two or three laps but were caught, presumably by a strond Red Peloton chase. You would think that Red Peloton would have countered at this point but you would be wrong. Don't ask me why, ask them.

Now Frank A. is showing lap cards. The race is entering a quiet, tactical mode. I hate it when races go like this. If this keeps up the sprinters will get organized and I'll be without a chance. 

The Red Peloton is massing hundreds (okay, five) of their riders at the front. That they think they can get Sterling in the sprint is worth a chuckle, even with the mighty yet unassuming Mike Charleton (IMO they should have been sending riders flying off for us to chase down constantly). The pace is slow as we get cards 3 and then 2 to go. Why no one is going for it is beyond me. Not even the boys with gobs of matches.

Finally I can't stand it anymore and attacked at what I thought was the best possible time, at the bottom of the course, right before the combination of right left and then hairpin turn. I blast pass Jonathan Lee at the front right at the entry to this section, about 7-10 mph faster than him, on the understanding that cornering hard and responding to an attack are difficult things to do simultaneously. I crush the bottom part of the course and hope someone comes with me, preferably someone I who I have a hope of beating in the sprint, but past the straightaway I look back and there's no one with me and I've got about an eight second gap to the field.

So I put my head down and crush it for all I'm worth, which as it turns out is not much. I get the bell lap going solo with a nice lead. The only problem is smoke is pouring out of my engine compartment. I've bit off more than I could masticate so I'm caught on the backstretch and that's pretty much my race.

I wasn't any stronger than last week, just a bit smarter, and rode with a bit more humility. I got in two promising moves, stole a prime and made a dangerous threat at the end of the race that a 25 yr old Rick just might have been able to pull off. I can be happy with that.

Slack key guitar, Goldberg Variations and Dexter Gordon kept me company on the ride home.