Kelly Cup

My plan was to race the 30/40 and cat 3 like Ltown. It was hot as sweaty balls on your thigh. Rough analogy, but it got a great response when I described the weather as such to Kim before the race. Anyway, my warm up sucked as I was highly unmotivated with the sweltering heat and the promise of good beer only hours away. It was like a doctor appointment – I was hoping it went well, but looking forward to it being over.

I lined up near the back of the 30/40 race after a pitiful warm up. The race was delayed because of a bad crash in an earlier race, so I ended up packing the trainer away too early and spent much of the time doing laps around the park paths. I then spent much of the early part of the race trying to move up in the near 100 person field and by about half way through had made some visits to the front. I attacked once, and was quickly chased down. This was after a successful break had already gone up the road and I hoped to bridge. LSV wasn’t having it. They had a rider up there in the break and were playing their team card well. I didn’t realize until later that the break was represented by several teams and thus the difficulty in anything getting organized to bring it back. The break must have gone while I was pack fodder in the back because I never saw the move. Given my location, I’m not sure I could have done anything anyway.

So with 2 laps to go I decided to pull a similar move to Ltown. I rolled off the front, the pack allowed a little gap, I started pushing harder, and then a DC Velo rider came blowing by. I jumped on his wheel and looked back, assuming the pack was there too. Nope, we had a gap. We worked well to stay away, but he got me in the sprint. Still, 9th overall (4th in the 30+ field) is better than pack fodder.

Due to the earlier crash and delay, the organizers were hot swapping the course. In other words, races were lining up just after the previous one finished. Near the end of my cool down lap I looked up the finishing straight only to see the cat. 3 race taking off. Crap. I raced up to the start/finish line and asked the official(s) if I could keep going – to which they responded with blank stares and “what?”s. Now earlier I had pulled what I thought was quite a bright move. I had pinned my 3 numbers under my 30+ numbers on my jersey. The idea, like motocross tear-away goggles, was that I would simply remove the 30+ numbers and be ready to go for the 3 race. Dumb idea. In my panic to convince the officials I was ready to go I demonstrated my flawless plan by yanking on my 30+ number which resulted in the pins ejecting from my jersey and both the 3 and 30+ numbers coming off. Great. In hind sight, I should have just taken off and let the pack catch me on the next lap and gotten my racing in with whatever number I was (or wasn’t) wearing. It was a training race for me and I’d paid for it – so next time. The other option would have been to just take my “free lap” and gotten my jersey/number situation resolved. But after just racing and blistering heat, my brain and body wasn’t functioning too well – so none of this happened and I happily resolved myself to Plan B. Go to the beach and drink beer. Woohoo!

Picture of me and Brian in our “last ditch effort” break. Courtesy of Jim Wilson.



~ by Indy on May 29, 2007.

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