Now that I've stopped shivering I can write this up. A huge thanks to Steve and Mike G for letting me sit in their car with the heater blasting after the race. Forecast 54 with 30% chance of rain? Um, no -- 40 with a steady rain almost the entire race. I was soaked through, then chilled through. At the end, I was seriously considering just crossing the line and turning toward home, but figured I might see some friendly faces with warm cars back in the parking lot. That turned out to be true -- thanks guys!
So at registration, I bumped into Rodney. "You, uh, want to try something today?" he says. Now this is kind of a strange question, because everybody knows that if Rodney "tries something," you damn well better be a part of it. "Sure," I say, "but I've got a bit of a cold" -- this was true -- "and don't know how well I'll be able to initiate anything. But if you go, I'll try and be there."
Rollout, up the first climb, nothing happening yet. Rodney rolls by. "First climb," he says. Crap. That's 45 miles of suffering! How 'bout second lap? But it's too late to appeal, he's already gone.
So first climb and boom, there goes Rodney, elbows out, head down, legs egg-beatering. Only I'm boxed in on the other side of the road. Even worse, two strong guys go with him. That's serious, and I'm not in it. Finally my path opens and I take off. Rodney is getting no help from the other two, nothing, so I come up on them fast. Too fast, as it turns out. Rodney can't jump onto my wheel and now I'm off the front solo. Great.
I should let up, but I don't, because I'm stupid. Big dumb animal plowing up the road. But then, whoosh, an Anthem rider comes flying past me. Am I caught? Look back, nope, he just bridged. It's Jamie Radin, and I can barely catch his wheel.
Here's all I can tell you about the next 20 miles: Jamie Radin has a Powertap rear hub. And he's an animal. Yep, I was sucking his wheel about 80% of the time, and not by choice. I'd just be starting to recover, and then we'd hit a climb and he would put me deep into the red. Slowly I started to come around and could offer moderate help on the flats and downhills. We, I mean he, were building up a reasonable gap. Even in the longest stretch of the course, I couldn't see the pack behind us.
We cross the line with 2 laps to go and I'm starting to feel better, thinking maybe this will work. But a mile later and no, we're caught. Well, no surprise. Jamie has some strong and smart teammates, but there were only three of them in the pack verses all of Team Dayton, COBC, Echelon, etc etc. If I had been as much an animal as him, maybe, but I'm not. Anyway, I can't say I was entirely disappointed. It was nice for the pain to stop.
So at this point, I'm a pawn until the end. Solo and with too many matches burned already, my only option is to sit in, hope nothing gets away and try to recover enough before the finish to make a show of it.
In the break, I was working and warm, but now in the pack I start to realize just how soaked I am. By the second downhill I'm starting to shiver. I desperately want to get out of the draft and work just to warm up, but I know that without some recovery I'll have nothing when it matters. So I sit in and get colder.
Bell lap and guys are chatting. I'm chattering. But as we hit the main climb for the last time an attack is launched and the pace lifts. I don't know if I warmed up or if the action just distracted me, but from here to the finish I didn't think about the cold.
The attack has broken free with 4 riders. Uh-oh, it's got a Dayton, an Anthem, and an Echelon: strong guys, with strong and big teams to block behind them. Again, that's serious and I'm not in it. The four get organized and start pulling away as we cross over the course's highpoint.
But then there's a flash of green on my left -- a COBC guy with green legwarmers is moving to the front to chase. And chase he does -- hammering away at the gap while cursing that he's getting no help. Technically, he's cursing at me: the string is him, then about 5 Dayton, Anthem and Echelon guys blocking, then me, meaning I should be the next to work. But ... gee, he's doing such a good job of it, isn't he? And it's such a long way up there? But I'm watching the gap like a hawk: if it holds or starts to grow, then I need to decide whether to work or race for 5th. I hate racing for 5th.
And I don't have to. Greentights is a real monster. Slowly the gap shrinks and then, with a final push, we're back together. One verses four and the one won.
3 miles to go and we hit the penultimate climb. A few punch it and get a gap, but they're spread out, not together. Still, it's mildly threatening when ... greentights to the rescue again! This guy is a Public Utility. Hats off. Whomever you were working for, I hope he earned it in the finish.
Up the last climb. Hey, not feeling too bad there -- good news, recovery seems to have worked. Guys are bunched up from the climb, cusses, wobbles, brakes. Finally some late attacks string it out and things get tamer.
1km to go and I'm in about 10th wheel. Too far back. But I see a gap open up behind third wheel and, whoosh, launch into it no problem. Now this is starting to look good! But the same guy is staying on the front, and 1km is too long a leadout for anyone. Not fast enough not fast enough. With 400m to go a surge comes up the left and our line starts to drift right when ...
WTF! A flash of green on my right and my handlebar gets swipped. Greentights -- greentights! -- was trying a late attack on the right and got pinched out when my line drifted. The swipe makes my bike countersteer into him and we both go off road. I can feel the mud dragging my tires down. My front tire chatters to get back onto the pavement and for a second I don't know whether it will plow sideways into the mud and send me down or whether it will grip and pop me back onto the road. It grips. I go on.
And now go go go, get back up there, pass the 4 or 5 places I lost off road. I'm just getting up to the front sprinters when I see a guy, a good 30 feet in front of everyone else, throw his hands in the air. It's Rodney, waaay ahead of everyone else. That surge up the left was his train.
Pass one more guy and cross the line in 4th. Not bad, I'm happy. I was hoping for a top 5 and I got it. After the failed break I wasn't sure I'd have a finish in me. If I hadn't gone off road ... maybe 2nd, but there was no way I could catch Rodney.
Just past the line the cold came down on me like concrete. I head back to the cars and am trying through clenched teeth to tell Steve how the race went when Tank looks over and says, "You need to get in the car." Yessir, and a damn good idea.
