That’s the last carbon bar I’ll ever put on my
ride…maybe!
My warm up consisted of sprinting back and forth
between the car and the registration table. Being that
I was at the top of the waitlist I was pretty sure I’d
get in so long as I was there when they opened it.
After being told twice to check back later by the
registrar, I headed back to the car once again to make
sure AJ was ready. Got him set up on his
trainer…pinned his #’s on (stabbing him pretty good
for the 1st time…he handled it like a champ) glance at
the watch, 7:40! Crap! Sprint back to the registration
table where there’s 2 guys in front of me. “Have they
opened up the waitlist yet?” “Yup!” They’d already
signed 7 guys. I look to the registrar and he gives me
a reassuring look. "I was wondering where you were
dude" says as he waves me to the table…I’m the 10th
one in…registration closes. WHEW! I sprint back to the
car. “What time is it?” I yell out to AJ. “7:50! Did
you get in?” “YUP!” 8 minutes to take off my jersey,
pin both #’s on, grab water bottles, nutrition, and
get back to the start where they’d already started
lining up.
I roll up just in time. I see Fred, Jim, Lorne,
Nelson, and Lee all talking, was just about to chime
in when I noticed my tires felt a little squishy. I
frantically search for anything that remotely
resembles a pump. The registrar notices and asks if I
need anything. “A PUMP!” He sees one across the
parking lot and we make a mad dash for it. It’s one of
those all plastic ones from the 1980’s or something,
but we finally get it to work…good thing, my tires
were about 20lbs. low. Not sure what the registrar’s
name was, but I owe him one big time!
We’re off. During roll out, we’re leisurely making our
way around the lake and out to San Pablo Dam Rd. when
Lorne unknowingly clips what must have been a broken
bot dot and it ricochet’s up and smacks the side of
some dudes helmet. He must have been in a zone or
something because the dude didn’t even flinch and
those things are heavy little buggers. An opportune
time for the ole internal monologue to blow up…
“That’s a strange way to start a race!” he says. Just
then I do that thing we all do when encountered by
these types of odd situations. You know, that
“Wait-a-minute” thing. I sit up frozen in my saddle
only moving my eyes left, then right, then slowly move
my head, looking from side to side, making sure I’m
actually racing and not dreaming…
I ride up next to Lorne and say, “If you want a chance
at it, stay on Jim’s wheel!” I zero in. I see Nelson,
looking strong, then Lee looking none the worse for
wear after the EBC crit the day before. Lorne makes a
move to the front and pulls for a bit looking as
strong as ever. As for me, my legs were already
feeling a bit tired. Jim’s a slippery fella, squirting
in and out of holes as he makes his way to the front.
I’m catching glimpses of him as I try to follow.
“There he is…go!” I squirt through and he’s
immediately enveloped and out of site again. It was a
pretty big group of about 70 riders or so…then, about
¾ through the first lap, we hit the hills and the pack
begins to split…by the time we hit Pappa Bear I’ve
managed to stay with the lead group of about 35 guys
or so, but begin to fall off. As I roll over the
summit, I’m about 50m back. Just then I see Shawn,
“Keep it up, there’s a long decent, you can recover
then, keep going!” he yells as I pass. I ramp it up a
bit and just as I’m about to give up and fall back, I
look up to see a few riders on the opposite side
saying that the main group had slowed way down and
that I could catch on if I hammered. I puckered my ars
and hammered a bit longer and was able to catch on,
only to get shelled again on Baby Bear. I continue
playing leap frog with the moto official until we hit
San Pablo Dam Rd. where I TT'd my way back to the
pack. He sat right behind me the whole way almost
pushing me. Not sure if it helped or not...every time
we hit anything resembling a hill, he'd down shift,
confirming what my legs and lungs were already well
aware of. I’m on again, whew! Breath, grab a drink,
slam the Enervitene cheer pack that I was saving for
the last lap, and hold on.
The second lap pretty much follows suit and, as I
summit Pappa Bear, there’s Shawn offering words of
encouragement and again. Just like the 1st lap, I use
the decent to catch back on. As we make the right
hander onto San Pable Dam Rd. to start our 3rd and
final lap I’m about 100m off the back. A bit further
than last time and I’m faced with the same
decision...visit the cave, or drop off? In chimes the
internal monologue again, only this time, it’s not
Liggett’s voice I hear, it’s mine. “If I can catch
back on, I’ll have plenty of time to recover and maybe
I’ll have enough in my legs to offer Jim a half way
decent lead out. I hit the drops time to HTFU man!
(I’ve gotta get me one of those wrist bands…anyone
have an extra?) After my TT back to the group, “I’m a
complete wreck, flashlight, batteries,
matches…everythings gone, dumped overboard to save
weight…including the spare tank…finished…spent…out of
air…out of…” just then I hear something. It sounds
familiar. I just can’t make it out. I look over to my
left and… “Hhhheeeeyyy,,,iiiitttttsssss
Ssssshhhhaaaawwwwnnnn aaaaggggaaaaaiiiiinnn,,,
aaaannnddd llllooookkkk,,, iiitttttsss
Kkkkkaaaarrrrrcccchhhh…Heeeyyy
Hhhhoooowws iiiitttt gggooooiiiinnngg?” “Llloookkk
aaattt mmmmeeeeeee,, Immmm sssstttuuuucckk iinn
mmooolllaaasssseesss!” "Hhhaaaahhaaa!" His lips are
moving, but I can’t hear a thing. Then, like water
draining from my ears after an open water swim I snap
out of my momentary stress induced narrative and hear,
“rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrab a drink! Keep going, keep going!”
as he leans over Karch and hollers at me. Like a
programmed cyborg I reach for my water bottle as the
humming in my ears subsides and I latch on to the
wheel in front of me.
I manage to recover fairly well and begin to weave my
way up to Jim who’s managed to stay in the top 10
riders throughout the race. “There he is!” I blink and
he’s gone. We hit the first climb and low and behold,
there’s Jim. Funny thing…you could ask me what color
Jim’s hair is…I wouldn’t know. You could ask me what
color his bike is…I couldn’t tell ya. You could ask me
how tall, or what type of cycling shoes he wears and
I’d have no clue. But you ask me what color his rear
tire is…Yellow! And his front…Red! I manage to stay
with him for a bit, but loose him and fall to the back
again. I figured the moto ref needed a little
company...ya know? After the long decent down Castro
to Alhambra Vly. I start to recover and begin to
"strategerize" my next move.
I make my way through about half the pack and figured
after the bridge at Happy Valley I’d make my way back
up to Jim and offer to lead him out…if I could. We fly
down the hill to the Bridge at Happy Valley road, I
say to the group, “C-mon guys, just roll over it!” The
prior two laps, everyone was slamming on their brakes
just before hitting the bump and causing all kinds of
near misses. I figure this time I’ll take the inside
and try and sprint my way up to Jim. Big mistake!
We’re doing about 35 and two guys decide to sandwich
me right before the bridge causing me to hit the
brakes just as I hit the bump. I try to shift my
weight back before hitting it and “SNAP!” “WTF!?!” “Oh
SH!T!” my brand new carbon bar had snapped about 2 ½
inches to the right of the clamp and I hear the guy
next to me say "OH SHIT DUDE...YOU JUST SNAPPED YOUR
BAR!" Don't ask me how, but somehow during that split
second I managed to look up as he's looking down at my
bar. The snap shot of the look on his face is burned
into my memory. Luckily I use electrical tape instead
of that crap that comes with the bar tape because that
was the only thing holding it together. How I didn’t
go down, I don’t know. Now I’m not a very religious
man, and I’m not arrogant enough to say that it was
all skill, but man...I should have been toast! I hit
my chest on my stem and immediately grabbed a hold of
the clamp with my right hand pushing myself back up,
bounced off two guys and regained control. If I had to
go to the bathroom, I would have crapped my pants
right there! I was torn between "Totally Pissed" and
"Scared Sh!tless" as I started to slow to the right
side of the road…1- 2 -8 – 10 guys go by me and I’m
off the back again…”I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS SH!T!” “I’m
so close!” “F-THIS man, if it breaks, it breaks!” The
adrenaline rush must have kicked me into a gear that I
never even knew I had. Luckily it was mostly climbing
from that point on. In order to shift my rear derailer
I had to shift all my weight to my left side and
gently use my thumb as a counter weight on the hood to
shift. I couldn’t get out of the saddle and hammer so
I was relegated to staying in the saddle for the
remainder of the race. So I saddle sprint my way up
the last climb with both hands clenching the center of
the bar, thumbs crossed over the top of the clamp,
chin almost touching them, drooling, spitting
scratching, clawing, fighting for every breath,
chest’s burning, whole body feeling like I’m stuck in
a freakin meat grinder and manage to pass over half
the pack to finish 20th.
It was a very strong field. A feeling that was
validated when I rode up to Jason B. Expecting him to
have won because he seems to win every race he’s in.
He came in 5th or 6th. Very strong indeed. AJ rode up
shortly after congratulating me. He ended up coming in
13th in his race.
I learned that positioning is everything this weekend.
In the EBC crit, the first guy was only 2 seconds
faster than the 30th. And in yesterdays race…it would
have been a lot easier not having to weave my way up
the hill to the finish. I’ve got to work on my
positioning…
As far as carbon bars are concerned…I’ll be shopping
for an aluminum one this time thank you very much!
Great job to everyone out there this weekend...it was
an incredible day...
~ J
p.s. I'll send a few pics of my bar in a bit...
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