It was a strange feeling looking around at the 8 am start of the Brisbane circuit race on a crisp Saturday morning noticing that there wasn't a whole crew of my brethren lined up beside me chomping at the bit, waiting for the start. AJ and I represented as best we could, all things considered. 4:30 am rise, hour and a half drive, cold, windy conditions, driving to the next days venue because the web site had them backwards giving us barely enough time for a 10 min. warm up. Still would rather be here with my boy than just about anywhere else. I told AJ that I planned on staying at the front of the field and to stay on my wheel. He managed to do that for the first few laps, then it got a little sloppy, lots of squirrels so he stayed towards the back and out of trouble. Smart thinking. This race reinforced my belief in staying with the Masters. Masters communicate with one another and are more concerned with making it to work on Monday as opposed to winning...well...for the most part any way. So needless to say...I was doing a lot of "communicating" to put it nicely. I was suprised at the pace for a cat 5 race. I enjoyed the course for the most part with lots of turns so there really was never a break in the action. There was an early break and no one really wanted to work to reel him in so he managed to stay off the front for the win. I ended up coming in 6th and AJ 31st only about 10 seconds back. Home by noon...yard work, eat, lay around, hit the hot tub, in bed my 10.
Sunday...Deja vu all over again for the crit. It was nice to be greeted by fellow DBC brutha and downhill speed demon Rod Fernandez. I only noticed only a hand full of guys who'd raced the day before so I knew there'd be a lot of fresh legs out there and tried to prepare us for it. Got in a much better warm up and downed a couple of double chocolate gels for good measure. If it was going to be anything like the prior days race...there'd be no time for sucking anything down except someone's wheel. AJ looked poised and ready to hammer. I tried to look ready. Sitting at the start, I look over at Rod, he says, "I just noticed I have a broken spoke!" Knowing that there was nothing we could do at that time, I tell him, jokingly, "Well, just hammer right off the bat and pull me around for as long as you can and you should be just fine." Race starts, click in, try and gauge everyone else's speed and we hit the down hill. A sweeping right hander right into a hard left. 20 seconds into the race, I look up to see a guy right in front of me scrape his pedal, panic, over adjust, unclip, tripod, sweep right looking like a one legged ostrich on a sheet of ice, take out two other riders sending one right into a steel pole! OUCH! I can still hear the sound of him barreling into it with his shoulder...not good. Take a deep breath, regather, look back, see that AJ's fine, hammer. I struggled for the first 4 to 5 laps keeping my eye on the back of Rods jersey about 20 yards ahead of me. Again, it was fast paced for a cat 5 race, a feeling that was validated afterwards by the race officials who were saying that it was faster paced than the 4's. At least the first few laps of the 4's.
After about 5 laps my legs seemed to open up nicely and allow me to settle in with the front of the pack. Rod was looking super strong at that point. I figured I'd give him a pull for a few so I jumped up. A few laps later, I come around the corner and get ready to hammer up the hill, look over to see Rod, standing on the side of the road with a flat...CRAP! The race was so fast that one flat and you're pretty much out. No free lap in our race. It was really too bad because like I said, he was looking real strong and surely would have gotten at least a top 10. "5 laps to go!" they announce as we fly through the start finish. A frantic feeling comes over the front pack that's easily palpable. I give a shout out that there's a lot of racing left so just maintain. That lasts for at least one lap, then, like a spastic child sitting 3 feet away from a Willy Wanka Bar, they jump. SHIT! The last 3-4 laps were pretty much beyond my LT threshold. We reel them back before the last lap. Another launch. Dig deep, head between the legs chest ripping open, last 100m I'm passed by about 10 guys, "There goes your top 10 finish BEEOTCH!" Get up! I grip the bar, sink my ass so deep into the saddle that I swear...well, I'll spare you the graphic metaphor's as I'm sure you get the picture. I dig deeper than I ever have, beyond Red Line...to a glowing white light as I groan out loud with every pedal stroke, again head between the knees looking down to see the shadows of front wheels as they slowly fade back out of sight. I pass about 12 riders to an 8th place finish. AJ came in 37th out of 45. He was a little disappointed, but I asked him if he'd recognized any one from the prior days race. He said no...I said, "Well, there you have it!" He hammered out both races and represented the DBC Juniors well! I didn't notice any other Juniors, aside from the 18 year old who stayed on my wheel the whole race to win it in the last 100 meters and thanked me afterwards.
We stayed for the first 6 or so laps of the M4 race where fellow DBCer's Lee and Hal were hammering hard and looking good.
All in all, scored a few points for the team, had a great time racing with my boy, home both days by noon, fair to good weather, kept the rubber side down and gained a little more experience, looking forward to upgrading after Madera!
~ J
No comments:
Post a Comment