If it wasn't for Chad, I'd be sitting here telling you
about I was almost able to stay with the BIG
DOGS...I'd be sitting here, sore, oozing, resentful,
and not at all looking forward to my next crit....
When I first saw the requests over the list serve from
Chad and Alan...I sat there, staring at the screen,
knowing that I was already registered for the Diablo
Hill Climb the day after, I couldn't resist. Finally,
a chance to play with the BIG DOGS, especially after
missing the fireworks in Folsom last weekend...without
hesitation I reached for my wallet.
Then came all the other emails from the likes of BIG,
Tim R, John L, Steggall. Those guys, combined with
Mike P, Chad, Alan, Nowicki, and Jeff N!?! What'd I
get myself into. Being the "Rookie", did I bite off
more than I could chew? Did my a$$ write a check that
my legs couldn't cash?
After a decent warm up, I arrive at the start line and
park it right behind Alan and already my heart is
ready to jump right out of my chest. I take a look
around. "Will I have it today?" The race official's
doing his thing as I look up to see Jeff at the front
and watch as he fidgets and squirms, impatiently
twitching his leg. It does nothing to calm my rattled
nerves which are already precariously perched at the
edge of the deep, dark abyss of Panic!
("Relax...breathe." "You're here, just give it all ya
got...till you drop!") I look to Alan and say, "Jeff's
gonna gun it right from the start." And sure enough,
that's just what he does. He and Mike Ramp it up and
keep it there. Somehow I found myself toward the back
of the pack and knew that Jeff and Mike's relentless
surge wasn't going to stop any time soon. They seemed
hellbent on dropping half the field in the first 10
laps and I wasn't going to be one of them. Watching as
gap after gap formed I look up ahead to see Chad and
John hammering. I hone in and give chase. I leapfrog
from wheel to wheel, closing gap after gap and
suddenly I'm seemingly stuck in a vacuum. An area void
of wind and resistance of any kind. I can hear me
breathing, the clicking of gears, the hum of my drive
train. The air around me seems suspended. Where am I?
This is cool! I look up to find that I'm on Chad's
wheel.
Chad told me after the race that he and I were talking
to each other, and that he'd told me to get around him
and move up, and that I did, but I've no recollection
of it at all. Was it due to the heat, or to the fact
that by then, I'd already gone to that place in
between, where there are no sounds, no voices, only
silence...and the deep, flub-dub...flub-dub...in
perfect rhythm with each strained breath. I'm parched,
I can hardly breathe, I must drink, but there's no
opportunity. If I take a drink, I loose the wheel. If
I loose the wheel, I'm forced into the wind...I drink.
10 laps to go, more than half the field obliterated, I
take a quick glance to the front to see Jeff and Mike
still driving hard pushing the pace.
Heartless...inhumane...inconsi
love man!?! They're killing me! I despise them...I
hate them...I'm stoked and I hope they don't stop!
They drive me to the very edge...they extract every
ounce of effort from my unworthy body. I love them for
it! I'm on Steggall's wheel as we head into turn 1.
Eyes blurred by the speed and the vibrations of the
road, legs burning, lungs seared, as we sail into turn
2. In front of me I notice a wheel get squirly two
riders up. He's flatted and instead of pulling off, he
tries to take turn 3. He cuts it to the inside so I go
wide trying to avoid him and he washes out and right
into my line. I try to bunny hop him and his bike. I
clear his legs and get twisted up in his bike and a$$
over tea kettle I go. I come to a sliding halt on my
right elbow and shoulder. I instinctually bounce to my
feet, blurting out a few expletives, grabbing my bike
and try to get back on. For the first time my bike is
in serious disagreement with me. I look down with my
tunnel vision to notice 2 flats, chain's dropped,
right shifter bent, and my handlebars are crooked. I'm
done, I'm hurting, and turn to abandon when the race
official comes up screaming at me, jolting me back
into reality. "ARE-YOU-O-K?" I just look at him and
repeat the question to myself, "Am-I-o-k?" and I begin
my quick self assessment. "ARE-YOU-O-K!?!" He asks
once again as the previous two questions still echo in
my head..."I-DON'T-F___ING KNOW, GIVE ME A SECOND!" I
say. Right then Chad jumps in, puts his hand up and
says to the official, "I got him, don't worry!" turns
to me and yells, "WALK...C'MON, FOLLOW ME...WALK!!" He
grabs my broken bike and thunders towards the pit
area. I was in no position to argue and for those of
you who know Chad, he can be quite persuasive. All of
a sudden I'm that 8 year old kid following Dad into
the garage after wrecking my blue banana seat bike and
twisting the handle bars. We get to the pit area, I'm
still in a daze and Chad takes control. The female
race official is yelling at us asking where our wheels
are. Chad calmly says, as he's taking my rear wheel
off, "They said there'd be neutral wheel support so we
didn't bring any." For some reason she keeps yelling,
ordering us to hurry. I grow even more pissed and
start to cool down and feel the burn of my abrasions
as the pulses of pain begin. Chad tells her for the
second time to stop yelling at us. "YOU'VE GOT 10
SECONDS!" she yells. Chad's calm, cool demeanor amazes
me, I feed off of it, as he looks at her and calmly
says, "Well I can't change 2 wheels in 10 seconds so
forget it, he's done!" I was fine with that. All I
wanted to do was quit, but on reflex alone I walk, or
rather stumble, over and start to take the rear wheel
off and Chad orders me to sit down. I turn without
saying a word and plant my butt in the chair. The
wheel support guy jumps up and helps Chad and before I
know it, I'm being pushed with surprising force back
into the race and am immediately 20 yds off the back.
I'm all over the road. Either the wheels that they
just threw on have about 80 lbs. of pressure in them,
or I'm still freaked out, but I feel terribly unstable
as I give everything I've got just to grab a wheel. My
legs are lead weights and filled with lactic acid.
Five laps to go and the pace picks up. I have no idea
where I am in the order as we head into the dreaded
"P" turn. There'd already been about a dozen crashes
there as we head into it about 5 mph faster than
before. Riders are tired, and out of control as John
and I pick our way through the slide outs and
endover's. Again, for the thousandth time we stand up
and sprint out of the corner. I struggle to stay on
John's wheel.
The final bell mercifully rings and as expected Jeff
and Mike ramp it up again. I'm done. Nothings
left...burned all my matches...used up all my
batteries...exhausted...spent. I roll across the
finish line, look over to my teammates who'd staked
claim on the corner right across from the line and
were cheering us on and ask, "Is that it?" in hopes
that I hadn't imagined hearing the bell. It was over.
I slowly roll around to the corner where I'd crashed,
slow to a stop, reach down to pick up my computer that
popped off, and rolled over to the guys. I would have
loved to kick back and talk about the race, and was
bummed that I'd missed that opportunity, but I needed
to return the wheels and head to the med tent for
clean up.
So, I'm sitting in the med area, two guys were in
front of me. Both are in a bit worse shape that I. One
guys in need of stitches. I grab some ice and sit,
waiting for my turn. They finish with them and start
to work on me. Another guy comes up and parks right
next to me. "You went down too huh? He says and I
start to explain what happened. "Yeah, some idiot
flatted in front of me coming out of turn 2 and
instead of pulling off, the A-hole tried to take turn
3 to the inside, I darted to the outside and he washed
out right in front of me." "I should have rolled right
over the guy, but I bunny hopped right over him and
onto his bike and over I went." "Really!?!" he says,
"Where was that?" "Right there" I said, pointing over
to the corner. "Dude, that was me." he said. "I'm
sorry about that man." By this time, I'm feeling every
little bump, bruise, scrape, and gash, I'm thirsty,
starving, and am in a fairly bad mood. All i could
offer up was, "Oh, really! Oh." And I turn to grab
another bag of ice to soothe the swelling and pain
from my elbow, side, and shoulder.
Chad was the epitome of a perfect teammate. He
completely looked after me in every way. From loading
my bike to giving up his recovery drink...he was as
cool as glacial runoff man.
All in all, I'm pretty satisfied with my performance.
I now know what I'll need to do to actually be a
factor in the next race. "Get stronger!"
p.s. No-show on the Hill Climb today...relaxing in the
shade at AJ's water polo tournament... See y'all on
Tuesday to ramp it up from the git-go! :0)
~ J
No comments:
Post a Comment