Twilight Criterium #5
10 May 2011
Elite race
A windless morning prompted me to strap on the 90mm deep wheels for this twilight race. Throughout the day though it got windier and windier still, and by race time it was blowing pretty hard. Riding a deep rim on a really windy course makes riding a straight line difficult, and hard cornering an exercise in faith and interventional deities.
But if you have really aggressive wheels it feels strange to see them languish in the garage for months at a time (though it is my fervent hope that the boys at NORAD don't have similar feelings about their nuclear arsenal). And for whatever reason was feeling reasonably strong, so why not give 'em a try?
A good group of tough guys shows up on this cool and blustery evening, including Andy Gosseling (Firefighters U23), three Pistachio pros, two Norcal riders including the fabulous Dr. Todd, a flock of Red Peloton riders, and a couple Echeloninans, Bobas and Colavita riders each.
For some reason I was feeling fantastic. I think the wheels were helping in the straightaways but would require intense concentration when cornering. Taking a hard turn with a super deep front wheel feels like your headset is overtightened, and steering is more like wrestling.
Midway through the race I found myself in a breakaway with Patrick Zahn (Red Peloton), Jason (Colavita) and Alex Brookhouse (Echelon). Our group was working pretty smoothly for a lap but it didn't feel to me that we had the horsepower to keep it out there. Going through the S/F they ring the bell for a prime. Immediately Patrick announces that we are to keep it together and not contest the sprint for the prime (for the good of our group). But I had a dissenting opinion, which was that we were already doomed as a breakaway, to be caught in short order and cooperation over said prime would be futile. So as Sting sings ... "When the world is running down, make the best of what's still around ..." instead of taking the pull I jumped away up the home straight to collect the prime. Now I can see how my breakmates might be pissed, but after all, it is a bike race, not an exercise in diplomacy.
Sure enough the break blows apart and we we're caught in dribs and drabs on the backside of the course. Attacks fly around but nothing sticks until the other Echelon guy (sorry I didn't catch his name), the big strong dude, goes flying past solo and sticks it out there for a lap or two. As I know the Echelon guy is super strong, I had recovered sufficiently to try counterattacking to bridge up to him. Andy Gosseling (U23 Firefighters) had the exact same idea and the two of us rocketed on up the road after him, joining up to him in a half lap.
We're a good trio of riders, me boxing above my weight as they say, and with a better chance of holding off the hungry pack, but I'm still noticing there is no Pistachio or Red Peloton presence. The combined power of those two teams could bring us back pretty quickly, so I'm not so sure we're going to stay away.
And what do you know? They ring another bell for a prime lap. I time my pull pretty well so I can be second or third wheel at the bottom of the course and then jump away again up the home straight to pick up prime number two. Now, yes, this breakaway blew up, but right when I came across the line I turned to see the field right on us anyway so once again I think I made the best of another doomed situation.
Gruppo Compatto a couple laps later when they ring the bell for the last prime of the night. I'm toward the front of the field and the pack is hesitating, and for some reason I'm still feeling good. It took just a moment for me to get it in my head that maybe I otta press my luck and try and go for the third prime. Is that possible? Echelon rider jumps and I get on him, punch it and get around him on the long drag up to the S/F. At this point I'm going flat out, feeling like some kind of ungainly thrashing animal that happens to be strapped to a bike. Can I actually hold all these guys off? The finish line appears to be receding, like it's on a peoplemover and I'm standing still. With meters to go 'till the line my mind is shutting down and my hearing is going. At the line I'm caught by Taylor (Pistachio), who later told me he had a mechanical the previous lap and had just gotten back in. We also got lap cards for three to go. Well, being pipped on the line by a pro who was rather rested for my third prime. I guess I can live with that.
I had given it absolutely everything in that sprint and was completely gassed. I was a feeble, drooling idiot (well, more than usual) for the final three laps as I struggled to stay with what was left of the group that was ramping up the speed in anticipation for the finale. I limped in around 12th but was content for winning the two primes, which turned out to be a bottle of wine each.
In the failing light of a Sonoma County day in May, I made it home, bottles clinking in my backpack, still without a top three placing but with more purloined bottles weighing my slow ride home. John Coltrane, Don Giovanni and Bebel Gilberto helped set the mood on the way back.
-Rick
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