Head Writing Checks Legs Can't Cash

So despite my disappointing race on Saturday, I went ahead and signed up for the Cat. 1/2 road race on Sunday. After all, I'd driven all the way up to Natchez, so I may as well take advantage of the nice road course for another 72.8 miles, or as I prefer to think of it, 14 more times up those two damned hills that had kicked my butt on Saturday. Thankfully, the race started in the morning, so it wasn't nearly as hot as it would be later for the Cat. 4s and Women. My usual MO for these situations is to sit in and conserve as much as possible, let the attacks and hills do their work, and hopefully survive long enough to keep the last twenty miles from feeling like a death march. So I rolled up to the start line and look around to see nothing but blue Herring jerseys. Tim looks over (OK, over and down) at me and says, "Looks like it's Herring against Randy today." Since the Cat. 1/2 race was separate from the Cat. 3 race (they are sometimes combined if turnout is low) we had only ten riders! This was not going to be conducive to my aforementioned plan. Sometimes, when there is a larger group or we're combined with the Cat. 3s things stay more or less together for the first thirty or forty miles before the real racing starts and it's not too hard to remain sheltered and stay out of trouble. I had a feeling that wasn't going to be the case for this race.

After a few laps at an easy pace a small break went off the front -- and I went to the back. I could already read the writing on the wall. A Herring break gets off the front, the gap grows quickly, the chasers get tired, and then a couple of other Herring guys attack the pack and bridge up to their teammates. I knew the attack was coming. The problem was that my legs were already hurting on the climbs just twenty miles into the race and I was pretty sure that by entering this race my head had written a check my legs wouldn't be able to cash. I had been sitting at the back with Brent from Bike Barn for a few laps and had already told him that I'd be happy to make five laps before getting popped off the back, which was probably a good indication of my mindset for this race, and not one I recommend, by the way. Anyway, sure enough the attack came on the hills right on cue. The Herring guys hadn't initiated it, but they sure as hell responded to it. I think I could feel the breeze as they flew past me up the hill. At that point I uncharacteristically cashed in. It was just too early and I was hurting too much to make the relatively small additional effort it would have taken to close the gap.

So that was basically it for me. I rode three or four laps alone at an easy recovery pace contemplating on which lap I would drop out. Eventually what was left of the group lapped me on the 5.1 mi. course and since I knew I was already DFW and it wouldn't affect anyone's placing I tacked onto the back. They were starting to look a little ragged in the heat, and thanks to my little siesta my legs were feeling much better so it was no challenge to stay with them. On the last lap I was expecting Frank to attack the group on the hills, and I guess maybe he did, or perhaps he was just reacting to someone else's attack, but at any rate I figured I'd back off at that point anyway. As I came over the top, though, I found Frank going backwards. His legs had cramped up pretty badly and he had already lost contact with the group. I eased up to give him some company and encouragement. After a mile or so he started to recover and by the time we made the sharp right turn onto the shady back stretch he was in full chase mode. He looked back at me and said, hopefully, "Can you pull?" I told him I was a lap down and there was an official car behind us so I couldn't. Well, the car behind us turned out to be the lead vehicle for the 2-man Cat. 3 break (the lead solo break had already passed us) that had caught up to us. They passed us, and then I think Frank passed them back with a mile or two to go. I eased up so I wouldn't interfere with anything and was able to watch Francis and Brad sprint it out for 2nd place. At that point I was hoping the Chief Ref would excuse me from doing the last lap, but as I went by he said "One to go" so I finished out the last lap.

By then it was getting really, really hot and I felt sorry for the Women and Cat. 4s who were scheduled to start after us. I stayed around to help hand up waterbottles for the next couple of hours, which didn't help my level of dehydration and sunburn one bit, but under the circumstances I couldn't leave my teammates to fend for themselves with the neutral feed. Mignon almost pulled off an upset by attacking the hills on the last lap of the Women's race and going solo, but she got reeled in a couple of miles before the finish and had to settle for 4th. Viv and Judith stuck together and finished that way. Anyway it was a long hot day. On the way home I stopped at the first gas station I came to and downed two bottles of cold V8 juice to go along with the pickles and oranges I'd eaten after the race (yes, they had a big pickle jar).

So today is Tuesday and I was still feeling the effects of the weekend during the morning training ride. On the way home I stopped to take a picture of the brand new striping on Carrollton Avenue for the new bike lane. Never thought I'd see that! I guess it'll be another day or two before I feel normal again. Too bad. I hate normal.