I woke up even before the 4 am alarm went off and shuffled around, half-asleep, collecting what I'd need for the long drive up to Meridian, MS for the Cuba Road Race. I stood there in the kitchen for a second, a couple of powerbars in one hand and a bottle of HammerGel in the other, and watched the pre-programmed coffeemaker to click on at 4:00. By 4:15 I was on the road to Cuba, Alabama, just across the line and a little northeast of Meridian, for an 83-mile road race that advertised "6,600 feet of climbing."
The drive went smoothly for me and The Doors, and Super Chikan, and whatever CDs I could find in the car, and I arrived a bit early as the first of the riders began to filter in. That left me a few minutes to sit on the tailgate of the car and try to wrap my head around the $3.10 per gallon I'd just pumped into the Volvo.
For this race, the Masters, Cat. 1,2s and Cat. 3s would all be starting together. While this sort of arrangement almost always messes with the race itself, I was glad to have the larger field of almost 40 riders. I wasn't planning on spending much time in the wind, and the more wheels available to shelter behind the better. Well, things started out quite fast for the first of the four-lap race and I was wondering if I was getting in over my head -- again. I knew that the only way I was going to survive this one would be to conserve, conserve, conserve, because the last lap would probably be the hardest. That was my plan and I was sticking to it. Nonetheless, there were a number of attacks and breakaways, so I was trying to stay close to the front in case things started to disassemble early. Usually, though, the pack would respond to the breaks before they got too dangerous and they would be pulled back.
I guess it was about mid-way through the second lap that David Hyde and David Lacek attacked and started to pull away. Both were racing Masters, and when Mark Graffagnini realized it, he took off and quickly made the bridge to the duo that was hovering around 15 seconds up the road. Me? Well, according to plan, I was about mid-pack and couldn't tell who the two riders were. When I saw Mark make the bridge I figured that looked like a good move, but I was too far back to do much except hope that the guys in front would pull it back like they had done with everything else. The problem was that I was thinking that the Herring rider up there, Dave, was actually one of the Cat. 1,2 guys, so I wasn't surprised when the Herring guys in the pack didn't respond. Well, that 3-man group kind of hovered out there for a long time around 20 seconds up, but as we got into the third lap they started to pull away and must have gotten at least a minute. They were far enough up the road to be out of sight most of the time and when I realized that David Hyde was missing from our group, I realized that I was probably racing for third or forth now.
Half-way though the third lap I sat up a little and looked behind me to see how many riders there were back there. I had though I was sitting just past the middle of the pack, and was rather shocked to find that I was actually only a few riders from the tail end of it. The group was already down to maybe half its original size. Less than that, if you went by body weight! Debbie Milne was riding as a master in this race and I think maybe there were a few riders who dug a little deeper to keep from being dropped by her! So anyway, as we neared the end of the third lap we started to see the break again. There had been a number of attacks and chases in our group, and although nothing had stuck, it had kept the pace fairly brisk. Still, I was surprised at how quickly we seemed to be closing on the break. As we went through the feed zone at the start of the last lap I moved up to the front to keep things moving. The break hovered for a long time about 15 seconds up and then finally the group sealed the deal and it was gruppo compacto again with about twenty miles remaining.
By the time we were halfway through the last lap, my legs were starting to feel the strain. The course itself offered little in the way of recovery, and although the pace had slowed down a notch, there were a lot of surges and attacks on the climbs that, "put me in a bit of difficulty." Surprisingly, my right calf that had been giving me trouble, was doing fine, but my left one was starting to show signs of cramping on hard efforts. Likewise, a couple of muscles in my right leg were also starting to cause problems. I guess we were six or seven miles from the finish when Frank Moak attacked and got cleanly away. It was still a long way to the finish line, and there didn't seem to be much of a response. There was no other team in the race with significant numbers, and so when the Herring guys went to the front and rode tempo, Frank's gap gradually grew. When it finally reached a minute or so, the Herring guys flipped the "attack" switch and for a while where was attack after attack. This was one of the most difficult points of the race for me, and I had to dig pretty deeply on a number of occasions to stay in contact. Amazingly, they were all chased down quickly and we approched the final 3-mile stretch all together with first place already out of reach. I saw Mark move up toward the front and the pack bunched up in anticipation of the final surge. We climbed an overpass at around 1k to go and soon the pace started to explode. I knew it was too early for me, so I stayed on the wheels that were moving forward, waiting for the final uphill at the 200M mark. By then, everyone was in full sprint mode and I found myself on Mark's wheel. I traded a little rubber with his rear tire halfway up the hill and then as my legs started to cramp I panicked and dumped it into the 12. What was I thinking? Anyway, I couldn't come around him and settled for 2nd in the masters race, which was probably 6th or 7th overall. It was a really fun race, actually, and I was glad to have finished respectably. I was also glad to have cruise-control on the car because the bottom of my right foot was on fire until I was halfway home!
Mark Delaney finished up after the pack, and was my only teammate in the race. Bob Bell got tangled up with someone after the feed zone on the second lap and went flying off the road and way, way down into the ditch. Looked like a mountain bike crash! Brooks Abel finished 9th in the large Cat. 4 race and Rolan Jamarillo was 6th in the Cat. 5s.
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