I toed the line with Bill, Stefan, and virtual MRC member Joe Butler in the Cat 4 40+. We pedaled at a parade pace down the road, across the bridge and toward Perry Hill. Over the top of Perry Hill flying down the descent, the guy in about 10th locked up his rear wheel, went down HARD and took 6-8 racers with him. I had a front row seat and it all seemed to happen in slow motion. I drifted farther and farther left, avoiding the carnage, and eventually off the road and into the dirt. Riders were hitting the deck at speed and bikes were flying. Literally, one bike somersaulted forward and at least 20 feet off the ground. It was amazing. I put a foot down, heard the moans and cries of the guys on the ground…,pushed out of the dirt, clipped in and sprinted like hell to make sure I wasn't left behind.
For the next 40 miles, I road in the front 10-15 riders and had a bird’s eye view of a very boring race. Sadly, no one wanted to work. Every time someone took a pull and then moved off, the second rider would stay on his wheel and no one would pull through. There were 2 or 3 of us that would go to the front and do a little work, but then nothing. I found myself on the front way more than I wanted to be, just to try to get things going, but to no avail. Several times, after taking a not very hard pull, I’d pull off and soft pedal but couldn’t even get off the front. I literally had to stop pedaling and coast until the next few guys came through. It was pathetic. I guess everyone thought they were going to win and didn’t need to burn any matches.
Of course, I had to pee almost as soon as we rolled off the line. By the time we got to Joe Beane, I was ready to pop. The race was going nowhere fast, and I was sitting 2nd or 3rd wheel, so I decided to just stop and piss. Relieved, I pedaled quickly up the hill and made contact with the back of the 30+ lead group before the summit. Stefan came back for me about that time, but the peloton was sufficiently slow that I had no problem getting back on.
Despite the lack of effort at the front, we still managed to shed tons of riders. Me and a guy named Noah (who finished 2nd) were at the front applying pressure on every climb, but then the group would soft pedal in between. By the time we got to Meeting House Rd, we were down to 30 or 40 riders, with the MRC contingent was intact. My legs were getting tired now and I was on the verge of cramping, but we continued to apply pressure on the front over the Meeting House rollers only to regroup after the top. I decided to drink everything left in my bottles now, hoping to avoid a Stage Rd melt down.
About 3 miles from Stage Rd, Stefan decided to go to the front and toughen up the race. It was actually bad timing for my near-cramps, but I loved the idea and effort. He drilled it for almost 2 miles. We hit Stage Rd a group of 30 that included all of the MRC guys, but we were immediately neutralized while a soloist from group 4C (started 20 minutes after us) came through. We started racing again and I was feeling okay, so I immediately applied pressure at the front. By the summit, I had a gap of a few seconds and stretched that a bit on the descent. 3 guys were just behind me, and probably another 10 seconds back was a second group and then a bigger group on their heels. I didn’t have it in me to solo for 4 miles, so I let the threesome catch on. I immediately became vocal and made it clear that we could be the podium, if we all worked. It took near constant “encouragement” from me for our foursome to continue to work hard. They tried to quit a few times, but I didn’t let them. I’m pretty sure that they think I’m a total A-hole, but I’m absolutely sure that my “encouragement” was completely responsible for us successfully staying away.
The chase got closer, but then the gap got bigger. At 1Km to go, I yelled “One more pull each, and we’ve got it.” At 400m to go, I attacked from 3rd , treating the final turn at 250m as the finish line (strategy borrowed from Chris Pare!) As soon as I stood up, both legs cramped, but I continued my attack. I railed the turn with a head of steam and a 20-30m gap. I put my head down, sprinted as hard as could and looked up just in time to see the finish line…and the entire MRC cat 3 contingent screaming at me. I pumped my fist and screamed in agony and ecstasy. Second and third went to 2 very worthy guys who had worked hard in our break, and had worked at the front of each climb in an attempt to make the race interesting with me. The guy who was least interested in working in our break, who I hadn’t even seen before Stage Rd, got 4th. They all thanked me for making them work, knowing that things would have surely been different if the chasers had caught us.
Sorry for the long winded report, but this is clearly the best result of my cycling career…and maybe I’m little too proud of it.
