Late Thursday afternoon, shortly after arriving in Bend, the team I was guest riding with received a phone call informing them that one of their riding friends, Daryl Benefiel, had been killed by a car while doing hill repeats on Newport Coast in Orange County. Daryl was one of the good guys. RIP, Papa John’s.
Some don’t see us, some don’t care. Be vigilant.
Well, from a racing standpoint, this was also a pretty tough weekend. I knew ahead of time that it was going to be hard, but some things changed after I had entered to complicate things a bit.
The original (sensible) plan was to race with my brother-in-law, Joe Kolling, and his Cycles Veloce / Simple Green team mates in the mixed Cat 3 /4 field. I now ride (and race) with all of these guys 30 – 40 days each winter. I was really looking forward to riding with them near home, for a change. Joe and I are both 4’s and Steve Bernede and Russ Shapley are both 3’s – so we could race as a team. It was a great idea until the organizers of the race decided that they would split our race into separate Cat 3 and Cat 4 fields. We were also joined by a friend of a friend, Steve Pascoe. Since we already had a Steve, we called him Arkansas – because that’s where he’s from… Could have been worse, I reckon – he could have been from Sioux Falls.
Against my better judgement, Joe talked me into calling Chad Sperry, the Race Director, to have him switch us all to the Masters 35+ / 45+ field so that we could “race” together. Chad told me the split had been made partly because the Cat 3 guys didn’t want to race with those crappy Cat 4 guys. Just an observation, having now been briefly to the other side – most of you Cat 3 guys ain’t shit… The rest of you need to move on.
As bike racing is a long term project for me – it’s all about lots of miles and experience at this point. So, I had to look at the less than ideal situation I was facing and treat it as one of those experiences – one that would make me stronger on another day sometime in the future… Some guys are still very, very fast as they get “old”, but I’m still mostly just old. My job was first to finish, and second to see how small an amount of time I could loose. …this is going to suck.
The Race:
The first stage was a 71 mile road race that started with a potentially problematic 3 mile climb and ended with roughly 25 miles of climbs connected by shallow grades and finishing at Mt. Bachelor Ski Area. I came off when the final climbing started – and when I say “came off” I mean that I freaking blew up!!! I made it, though, and afterward experienced my first ice bath. You really should try the ice bath – pain has a whole new meaning for me now. If it had been government sponsored it would be classified as torture and there would be Senate Hearings, and everybody could point fingers. Heads would roll, sort of… Bike racing as we know it would end.
Anyway, I survived the time trial by riding very slowly while not thinking too much about that afternoon’s criterium. Afterward, instead of an ice bath (which I believe helped, by the way), we drove the Stage 4 (Sunday) circuit race course. Well, at least the severity of the course would take my mind off of the criterium. …this is going to suck.
We were informed before the criterium started that there was a problem with scoring, and that to keep things fair to the GC contenders the crit would not count. Really? It didn’t make any difference to me, but for God’s sake, we came to race. Well, it turned out that nobody was dissuaded too much. The speed of the race (until my brilliantly timed attacked off the back) never fell below a 30 mph average… That’s just a wee bit too quick for me – wish I was racing with the 3’s… But hey, I’ve still got all my skin. I hate crits.
The circuit race had the potential to be absolutely brutal – rolling with some short power climbs. It is an attacking course, and it would start early. I figured that there would be a fair number of retirements and that if I could finish (not a slam dunk at this point), I would move up in the GC. My plan was to ride with the peloton until the pace required more than 30 seconds effort above my lactic threshold (about 20 minutes it turns out), at which time I would try to find a group to finish the race with.
I came off at the end of the sustained climb that contained the feed zone – attack!!! Yup, 10 miles into a 67 mile race and I was going solo. As it happened, however, I wasn’t the first guy out, and the group was shattering in front of me, as well. I quickly became one of a dozen riders that was moving along quite nicely.
There were six ahead of us which added some motivation to include them in our fun. As we gathered them up, I saw Arkansas. We had made an agreement to have our own little group ride when the inevitable happened – I thanked him for waiting for me.
Then I noticed Steve and Joe – this wasn’t a group ride anymore, it was a team ride… Surely, we could have some fun with 4 guys in a group of 20.
I knew that Steve and Joe would attack on the final very steep (16-20 percent) climb about 5 K from the finish – that’s just the way they are. Joe, however, had been hit by a car while riding near home a few weeks ago and his knee had been giving him some grief. That all came to a head when it was time to go – he had only one leg to work with. Steve, as predicted, jumped off the front followed by two others. I chased, and the four of us blasted into the rollers that preceded the run to the finish. We were joined by three others as the final attacks started.
Steve was first to finish, beating two others in a final sprint. A few seconds back, I was out sprinted by one of the three I had lead to the line. I had finished, though, which I wasn’t sure would be possible as the day started.
I’ll go back to where I belong (with the Cat 4’s) and continue to work toward a triumphant return – imagine a PT boat leaving Corregidor with a bicycle strapped to the bow…