Well folks, I finally was able to experience that feeling this past weekend. The Granville, Ohio Circuit Race was my final race of the season. There were a few other races here and there into September, but as far as the racing calendar goes, road racing had all but dried up by this weekend. Which actually was ok by me as I was starting to feel the fatigue of the race season and had been out of town at races every weekend for over a month. I was ready for a break and really ready to start on just building some Fall base miles in anticipation of next year. Thanks to the tanking economy, a criterium I had signed up for this week was cancelled so the organizers put together a circuit style road race for the following weekend. I was pretty excited about this simply because criteriums are not my cup of tea and I had heard there could be some climbing on the circuit race course.
Thankfully I had managed to put myself and bike back together after Thursday's crash and Elizabeth, Paul and I arrived at the race parking lot a little over an hour ahead of time so I could get a good warm up in and do some route reconniasance. The route was a 7 mile loop of local roads, half of which were closed completely and the other half were open to traffic. I pinned my number on, stretched a bit, and then struck out on the course to see what we were up against. I was feeling very little apprehension over this race as I was fairly unconcerned with results. I of course wanted to do well, but it was the last race of the season and I was pleased with my placings thus far. I was going into this race with an overwhelming state of calm and was just interested in a good workout. The course was rolling, with great pavement and four 90 degree right hand turns. The first 3 or so miles were fairly flat with a few small kickers, but nothing that was going to separate the pack. However, the next 3 miles were full of long sustained climbs before the 1 mile downhill to the finish. The finish itself was right after the last right hand turn and had an 1/8th mile false-flat sprint for the line. As I was out warming up, I was getting more and more excited. This course really did seem to fit my strengths. The climbs werent "sit-and-spins" but they were sustained gradients for around 3/4mile at a time, definitely enough to separate a pack and definitely suited to my climbing style. The finish was also fairly well suited for me as it was slightly uphill and had a long run-in that would benefit my "time trial"-like sprint a bit more than the explosive powerhouse style of the crit racers typical of this area. I finished my loop of the course and came back to the finish line for a few sprints. I downed a couple bottles, had an energy bar, and lined up awaiting our 10:30am start time. This race was considerably smaller than the other Ohio races I had been in with around 30 competitors lining up, but from the looks of those that showed, we weren't just going out for a "friendly group ride" either. It was near the end of EVERYONE's season, so it was really only the guys that REALLY wanted to race that showed up. And while there were several unfamiliar faces today, I still knew a few of the riders well enough to realize this race was gonna hurt.
My strategy for this race was going to be a test of my patience. I was going to sit in the entire race and then attack on the hilly portion of the course on one of the final laps (or I would wait for a sprint finish depending on how strong the field seemed at that point). Essentially the game plan of the day was: conserve, conserve, conserve. This was yet another experiment in race strategy that I was willing to try and what better day to try it than the final race of the year? The race promoter gave final instructions and started the race. We rolled out at an easy pace, all of us seemingly comfortable with taking a "neutral lap" to get our legs warm and feel one another out. The day had dawned foggy and cool, so I was wearing long sleeves but as we clipped through the countryside I was warming up and beginning to wonder if I overdressed for this race. I was almost lost in my own thoughts as we sped along, allowing the guy on the circa 1990's steel frame spin his brains out on the front. I don't know if he couldn't switch up into his big ring or just had read too many "high RPM" articles in RoadBike magazine, but he was wearing himself out and we were averaging just barely over 20mph. As seemed typical for races in this area, part of the course was extremely windy and forced the pack into a long strung out paceline/echelon. Once "Spinny" tired on the front, he allowed the rest of us to start taking some pulls and as we worked the rotating paceline, our average speed began to creep up a bit. We were in the hills now and it was obvious some of these guys were not climbers. We lost maybe one or two guys on the first lap and had a handful of riders hanging on for dear life as we maintained 20mph over the crest of the first climbs of the day. There were some juniors who were mixed in with our group and I was excited to see how strong they were. Sporting slightly oversized lycra and 1980's neon jerseys, these kids jumped right in our paceline and took pulls on the front like the "big boys"...in junior gears! Their legs were blurs as they spun as hard as they could to maintain the pace (which they did quite handily). At this point I was sticking to my plan and was safely tucked into the pack, we had now rounded the finish and were on our second lap and I felt quite good. I was able to freewheel for what seemed like long stretches as the front of the pack broke the wind and pulled the rest of us along behind them. Our average was finally edging up above 20mph, but I needed only to put in efforts on the small hills as we cruised along almost coasting on the flats. I was enjoying my position in the pack and thought maybe this won't be that bad after all, as right now I am more than completely comfortable. Then it came...
As we hit the climbing portion of the course on our second lap...yep, read that again: SECOND lap...a younger guy (early 20's) moves to the front of the peloton to push the pace. Then, as we were entering one of the steeper climbs and precisely where I planned on attacking (only much later in the race), he accelerates and pops off the front of the group. Now it wasn't what I would term a "normal" out-of-the-saddle, no-holds bar attack. Simply an acceleration that the guy behind him wasn't ready for and didn't immediately respond to. It was a good attack and well planned, but I chuckled to myself as I thought, "A bit too early fella". I moved up to the front of the pack and started the tempo for what I assumed would be an early catch. He only had a 50 yard gap if that, so I turned up the heat a bit, took my pull, and pulled to the side fully expecting to see the rider behind me pull through...but he didnt. I glanced back and flipped my elbow in the universal sign of "Its your turn", but he just sat there. In fact everyone sat there, I looked around and it was almost like they were soft-pedaling (which we weren't, but I was angry at the time so it seemed like it). I glanced at the leader again and saw he was pulling away, it seemed he had the legs to go the distance, especially if these guys didnt get organized quick. I was hot at this point and waved my arm forward in a large, unmistakable indication to "get your butt up here and pull." I had started it and I definitely wasn't just going to chase this guy down by myself while everyone else tagged along. Still...nothing. I stared at my handlebar, frustrated. These guys were just going to let our attacker walk away from us, and not that I minded racing for second place if thats what it came to, but everyone was sooo concerned with conserving and sitting in for the finish that none of them were going to organize a chase group to pull this guy back...REALLY?! Finally, I had enough. I glanced around me at a few faces with an expression that probably dripped of pure disgust, and attacked at the base of the next climb. The pack was ever so slowly organizing back into a paceline (presumably a chase group?), but my attack took them by surprise. I jumped off the front and bridged the gap to the lone front man quickly. As we crested the last hill I caught him and pulled alongside him. I looked at his face and could tell that a) he was starting to hurt a bit and b) he was thoroughly surprised to see me, as if I were a ghost that had appeared from the ground next to him. I think he thought I had brought the pack with me, but I said "Hey listen, if we work together we got 'em" flipping my head back to the FINALLY chasing pack. He glanced behind him, looked at my face and said "Alright man, lets do it!" That was all I needed to hear. While I had planned on today being an "easy" race day, I knew that it was now REALLY gonna hurt. The pack was chasing and I wasn't sure how long my newfound companion would last, but we were going to give them a run for their money! If they were to catch us, they had better be as dedicated as we were to work...and let me just say, we were dedicated.
I pulled in front of the young guy in the blue jersey and took a hard pull down the hill to the finishing turn. We hit the turn like it was a crit, accelerating out of the corner for all we were worth. As we crossed the line, the crowd was a bit surprised to see only the two of us, but they broke into cheers as we motored through the start/finish area. As we crossed the line, I glanced behind us and could see that the pack had broken into two chase groups, a smaller group having formed off the front a scant 40 seconds or so behind us. I let blue jersey take a pull while I got a drink. I knew that all we needed to do was work together on the flats and drill the hills to put some time into these guys. If we could work hard for a few laps, then we would have a cushion on the final laps of the day. The next few laps were quite painful...on the flats we were over 30mph trading pulls frequently in our two man paceline and on each hill we were out of the saddle, pinning it to the top. We recovered on the downhills and looked over our shoulders as often as we dared, however it became clear that we would not see the pack again. As we entered our bell lap, we had a gap of around 5 minutes on our first set of chasers and knew that (barring catastrophic mechanical failure) we would be finishing out the race head to head, our time of working together rapidly drawing to a close. We continued to work together through the first half of the last lap, although I noticed that my comrade was starting to sit-in on me a bit longer each time. Thus I began to return the favor, trying to gain as much recovery as possible as we sped along the flats and small rollers of the course. It was around this time that we picked up a straggling Cat 2 rider, having been dropped from his race when he flatted. He asked if he could tuck in with us and we obliged. He pointed out that we had almost caught the Cat 1/2/3 race as it was less than a minute in front of us (we could see their pack on each rise we crested). He offered to pull some if we got close enough to their pack for him to bridge the gap, but alas it wasnt meant to be his day as we never came within striking distance.
As we entered the climbing portion of the course, I was anticipating an attack from blue jersey guy. I knew he had to be tired, because I definitely was, but given this is where he had attacked before I figured he might try it again. We entered and finished the first climb without incident, however we were no longer trading pulls. We rode side by side, sometimes hovering just off of one another's wheels in tense anticipation of the attacks that we each expected to come. I was determined to simply wait and respond to any attacks that blue jersey had left and was not dissappointed, because as we entered the second climb, he jumped out of the saddle and attacked viciously. I was able to respond almost instantly and stayed glued right on him until he settled back down in the final portion of the climb. I was impressed. To say I felt at this point that I had him "right where I wanted him" would be naive and arrogant, because I wasnt sure I did. His last attack was tough to ward off and at one point I hurt bad enough that I toyed with the idea of letting him go...but I buckled down, clawed my way back to his wheel, and frantically tried to recover as we crested the hill. As we came over, I pulled next to him and said, "However this ends, it has been a great race man!". He nodded in agreement...and then launched again. I think perhaps he thought I was being arrogant at this point, as if I were saying "Its been nice riding with you but I am going to dust you now" (which I really wasnt at all. I respected this guy. I mean we had just been out on the front alone all day for crying out loud). I answered his attack again and was stuck right on him as we bombed it for the final turn. He was tucked into the white line to give me as little chance as possible to draft off of him as he "time-trialed" for the finish. I knew it was going to be close, but it was now or never, so I clicked up a few gears and attacked. I came around blue jersey and nailed it for the final turn. He was right on my tail, not yet willing to give up. We swept through the turn clocking right around 40mph and immediately were out of our saddles drillin it for the line. Out of the corner of my eye I could see his front wheel next to me, it would inch up and then fall back slightly, never quite able to pull around. I was in a blitzkrieg of pain, pushing my body to a realm of hurt previously thought unreachable by mortal man. The finish line seemed so unbelievably far away and then as suddenly as it had all started, I was there pulling across the line nearly a bike length ahead of my adversary.
There are a myriad of emotions that sweep over you as you realize you have taken a win. At some point I had apparently realized I had beaten blue jersey and was able to sit up, raise my arms, and salute the "crowd" as I pulled across the line, a clear victory finally mine. I was grinning ear to ear and coasted on through to the parking lot beyond, taking a few laps to cool down after a hard day out on the road. I clapped my hands, pounded my handlebars, and congratulated the guy in second place. I was elated and could hardly believe that on my last race of the season, I had finally pulled off a win. And not just a win, but a win on an all day breakaway at that! This wasnt a huge race for me and I had honestly only entered it as a last minute addition to my race calendar, so I cant say that I broke down crying at the finish or anything. However, I was congratulated all around and claimed my price (nice set of new tires :) ), before packing up my bike and heading for home. I was elated with my performance and to top it off, Elizabeth and Paul had made it to see my first win! Throughout the season I had tried a variety of different riding styles and techniques. I had done well and proven to myself and others I could be a force to be reckoned with. I had trained long, countless hours, wrecked, fixed numerous mechanical problems, and constantly was analyzing my own personal strategy for each race. I used the experiences that I had gathered in each race to determine what had worked and didnt work and finally...finally had taken a win on MY terms based on MY mid-race decisions. Somehow, in the back of my mind when I pulled away from the pack that day, I knew I was headed on for a win. I had the confidence in myself and the decisions I would make at the end to simply "know" that I had what it took to go the distance. I had built the fitness, racing repertoire, and mindset over the entire season and it finally paid off. I would like to thank everyone for following me through this season and offering suggestions and encouragement at times when I may have needed it most. I am so glad that my family (immediate and extended) were so understanding this season and were able to attend as many races as they all did. I am by no means done blogging on my experiences on the bike, however it is time to enjoy some time off just relaxing. I am taking the computers off of my bikes and simply going to let my legs and lungs tell me when I am done for the day. I will attend group rides and chat with guys at the back of the pack and mountain bike for hours at whatever leisurely pace I feel like. And, maybe, I will even take a foray into 'Cross racing this year but it will not take the precedent that my road season did. Its time to just enjoy family, the holidays, and the bike for awhile. Get out and ride guys cuz, "It never has mattered how light or how fast, its simply...all about the ride."
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