On and Off the Back

I knew it was going to be a long day.  I just didn't know exactly how long it would be.  I threw the bike into the car a bit after 4 am and headed west toward Lake Charles for the LAMBRA Criterium Championships.  The masters race was the second of the day, so I figured I may as well get there early enough to help with the officiating.  Besides, I had bring all of the championship medals.  I have to admit, I rather like those three-hour early morning drives on the interstate, although it would have been nice to have had a little company on this one.  It appears that some New Orleanians prefer Jazzfests to sufferfests.

The masters race had a fairly small field of 20 or so, a quarter of which was Midsouth Masters.  Despite its diminutive size, the race had a lot of horsepower and I wasn't expecting an easy ride.  We started out with a first-lap prime.  I hate first-lap primes!  Thus began a fast and aggressive race in which I was basically a non-factor.  Part of the reason was that I was gambling that the strong team and strong solo riders might cancel each other out.  The other part of the reason was the strong and gusty wind that made moving up difficult and hiding in the pack nearly impossible.  There was an early breakaway that got a decent gap, but I could sense they wouldn't be able to stay out there.  Indeed, they were caught after a concerted chase.  On the next prime another small break took off, and again I didn't get the idea the field was going to let that one go either.  By then I was mostly hanging onto the tail end of the group wondering what I'd gotten myself into and feeling a spectator at a dog fight. There were more attacks and more chases, as I played the accordion at the back, sprinting out of each of the three hard corners as the pack stretched and compressed around the course.  The worst was a particular right-hand turn into a strong head/crosswind that made getting a draft a real challenge.  With six or so laps left to go the pack was once again all together when a couple of riders attacked.  This time it seemed that the front of the group hesitated.  I was still near the back, as was Mitch.  Just as the alarm bells were starting to go off in my head, I saw Mitch get up out of the saddle and knew he'd sensed the same thing.  He went flying past the group and started to bridge.  I think he made it for a little while, but it must have taken so much out of him that he couldn't stick with them.  At five to go I started trying to move up.  The break was not looking like it would be caught, but even so it was difficult to make much progress.  Somehow, though, my old criterium instincts started to finally kick in and I spent the last couple of laps battling for a decent position. There was a surge on the last lap as I hung in at third or fourth wheel, coming around the last turn third, I think, and passing one rider and almost the other before the finish.  So I came in 4th, thanks only to the fact that I sucked wheels most of the time while the strong guys did battle at the front.  That felt hard.

So after officiating a couple of races, I figured I may as well go ahead and give them my prize money back and enter the Cat. 1/2/3 race.  I was probably pretty dehydrated already but after all, it was obvious I needed the training.  Now, of course I knew that my only chance, slim as it might be, in this race would be for a small break to get away, one of the teams like Herring shutting everything down, and then a pack sprint.  Well, that was pretty much the opposite of what actually happened. There were some Texas guys on hand, including Carlos Vargas, so I wasn't really surprised. Once again there was a prime on the first lap, so we started out at full gas.  By the time we were halfway through the second lap I was already feeling like I'd brought a knife to a gunfight.  A break was already off the front but I didn't even know it for another couple of laps.  Nobody was shutting this pack down.  That break was eventually reeled back, which of course only precipitated more attacks.  By then I was hanging onto the back of the race for dear life, struggling to stay in contact after almost every corner.  There were at least four times when I seriously considered sitting up and packing it in.  Anyway, with maybe six laps to go the pace surged once again and once again I was struggling just to stay in contact.  A late break went off the front that included Vargas and two Herring riders who were not likely to outsprint him.  I'm pretty sure that wasn't in the Herring race plan, but these things happen sometimes.  I was back among the last three or four riders in the pack when all of a sudden it seemed like someone was going backwards through the pack.  I don't know if we'd come upon a lapped rider or if someone had just completely blown up, but the net result was that a big gap suddenly opened up a couple of riders ahead of me.  One rider near me made it across, but for the rest of us, it was "game over."  By then there were only a few more laps left, so I just put my head down and figured I may as well finish it out.  I ended up 16th out of 24, 12th in the Cat. 1/2s.  I'm hoping that old saying is true.  You know, the one that goes, "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger."

Strange Dog!

Overall I thought the races themselves went pretty well, but the turnout was kind of embarrassing. Here we have a district championship criterium with a pretty decent prizelist and the biggest field numbered 24.  I don't really get it.  Lake Charles may not be in the geographic center of LAMBRA, but it's not exactly in Kansas either.