Two bottles are typically enough for a 1 hour 40 minute effort. Saturday was not "typical" on many levels.
6:00am - 83 degrees.
6:15am - Pick up mates at official team race HQ (outer reaches of the Target parking lot).
7:00am - Stop @ convenient store so Kerry can "Do the Dew".
8:40am - Arrive at the course to a paparazzi mob of one (O'Mahoney with stolen camera).
8:45am - Begin race prep: stretch Lycra over sticky, sweaty, clean shaven legs; spend next 5 minutes getting said Lycra where it supposed to be; have teammate assist in unpinning the front of my jersey from the back so I can pull it on; loose the keys (Kerry stole them); loan out extra gear to those less prepared (uh um, Scott E); tell friends to park in places they shouldn't and get reprimanded by THE MAN; preview the course and call it a warm up; memorize the super-secret, sure-fire, race-winning strategy.
9:35am - Game on.
The race began with a slow roll out into a slight headwind that would soon-enough prove to be not-so-slight. The peloton was reminded by the race referee after a half mile that this was NOT a neutral roll out. Hounds released.
The attacks (and chasing) went on for the next lap and a half. Rob and I worked well together covering most attempts of substance and set each other up for a clean bridge here and there. Cylce Logic was represented in several moves that looked promising, but the bunch wouldn't have it. Following two hard chases into the wind on lap two, Alfred Baurley (who solo'd to victory in the Juniors race earlier), maintained tempo and rolled off as the bunch seemed content to recover for a bit. I was on deck to cover the next move and waited for a reaction. With none coming, I thought we'd see if they minded two up the road; apparently not.
It wasn't long before an ORC rider (Mike Hernandez) got away as well, so we eased up, welcoming the help as soon as possible. One lap later, the gap is around a minute, with a 4th rider coming across. Again, we ease off to let Roy Foley of AJ Barnes get a little respite and wipe the drool off his face after a monster effort. Roy quickly went to the front and did some serious work, and I'm thinking this could go the distance. However, conspicuously missing was team Velobrew, who had a lot of matches to burn in this race. I feared they would burn our house down, but I committed 100% to the break nonetheless.
Fast forward two laps: a chase group is attempting to crash our party, led by none other than The Juggernaut, Ken Sallot. Rob was witness to the carnage caused by Quadzilla after dutifully pulling back attackers and disrupting chase for most of the race. We get the "2" to go sign with a gap of about 25 seconds on the chase group (Sallot, Brian Stalvey, and Dustin White). I reasoned that the closing chase wasn't all bad; we (the four leaders) only had one teammate between us, and I figured the break would definitely be safe with two Velo-dudes in the mix.
The break may have been safe, but I wasn't. Rear flat with less than 2 to go. My heart bounced off the tarmac, it sank so fast. I let my break partners know I'd be seeing them and sat up. When I turned my head and caught a glimpse of the wheel truck (perfectly placed in the race), I thought, "There's a 1st time for everything, let's give this wheel change a college try." As soon as my arm went up, the wheel truck rushed to the seen of the crime. (Sidebar: A huge race-saving thanks to the wheel truck crew! Stellar job. If anyone knows who they were, please let me know.) A lightning quick wheel change and a nice push start had me within reach of the Groupe de Juggernaut that flew by me during my unplanned pit stop. With my adrenal gland resembling a squashed grape; I put my head down and red-lined it. Back in business.
Shortly thereafter, we catch the 3 leaders. Roy does a double take and gives me a compliment. Goosebumps from dehydration set in after the hard chase. No water left in the bottles. 1.5 laps to go, seven man break.
Halfway down the back stretch, the break seemed to become aware that we were the race and began to recover, setting up for the finish. We completed the final lap slower than the previous six, but with everyone contributing for the most part. The super-secret, sure-fire, race-winning strategy was to go real hard (~35mph) heading into the final roundabout, get a gap by cornering with nerves of steel, and try to hold it to the line (Rob and I measured the distance during our warmup: .35 miles). I had played with the roundabout speed on previous laps and knew a gap would open. To my surprise, the youngsters (Baurley and Hernandez) played my card first. I took up chase, and the 3 of us indeed rounded the 'bout with a gap. As expected, we got a strong face full of wind coming into the final straight. Barley was leading and sat up while swerving hard left; Mike began to slide left into his draft just as I lit the fuse. I barely squirted between them, but maintained momentum and wound it up. The pedals kept turning, through the cramps, until it was over.
I yelled in conquest after crossing the line, then began to wonder if I really hit the line first. The Juggernaut rolled up and held my bike while I stretched the cramps out of the hammies. I asked him if I was dreaming. He asked me if those cramps felt real.
Apparently there was talk of fines being handed down to CL for excessive celebration prior to completing the race; Rob had a party on the back stretch after getting the thumbs up from O'Mahoney. He still got 3rd in the field sprint. His feet were hurting from all the dancing, he said.
