VOS Stage Race.

Being on time is something I could get used to. Getting up at 4 am to get to Nicks to meet Erin and Wilson by 5...not so much. But there I was, early...of all things!

First time doing this race for both JB and I. Having Wilson and Nick there to fill us in on the details of each stage was helpful. I guess you really don't know what you'll have to bring to the table until you're sitting there, fork in hand, ready to throw down so I really didn't know what to expect. JB and I were reg'd for the 2's and Wilson, the 3's. First up for the 14 mile TT was Wilson with a start time of 12:49. He was off and running while JB and I warmed up. I could feel the back of my throat parched and couldn't seem to quench my thirst.  I rolled up to check in, JB was already off and running. I was just in time to step up onto the start platform with 2 in front of me. Starting from a platform, another 1st for me. Wasn't sure what to expect.




Style points! Unfortunately, they weren't giving time bonuses, or points of any kind for style, or I think we may have had a bit of an advantage, cause man did I look fast! I love the new skin suit. Felt super slippery! Turns out, "looking" and "feeling" fast, doesn't actually equate to "being" FAST! Who knew!?

"Is this your first time doing this TT?" asked the official sitting at the end of the ramp. Now that I think about it, I don't even think I answered him, and, now that I think about it...how wude! 5...4........go! I mash down on the pedals and sprint down the ramp and, surprisingly, hit the tarmac so smoothly that I really didn't even notice. "Nice" I thought as I level out and assume the position. I was borrowing AJ's TT bike which was set up for him, of course and I didn't want to mess with the set up. All I did was drop the seat about a half inch and it seemed to fit me pretty good. I mean, aside from being totally stretched out over the cockpit, the seat being too far back, my elbows on the pads instead of my forearms, and the fact that it felt completely foreign and made me feel like I was a 12 year old borrowing his Dads bike, it was perfect!

Now, going into the TT, I knew not to expect much, especially since my TT training up to that point consisted of me, staring at the TT bike in the garage and....uuuummmm....the Madera TT? That, combined with 'daydreaming' of pulling a tremendous TT out of my ars, I thought I had a pretty decent chance...right!? I felt pretty good, all things considered and tried to conjure up TT's of old. "Relax...breathe...pedal. I had nothing to tell me how fast I was going or even what my HR was...but I was sure I was doing 30...at least! Had to be!

"So long as no one passes you, you're doing fine!" JB's words kept repeating themselves in my head as I tried to find a rhythm. unbelievably, at least to me, I kept hearing the 'Whoosh-Whoosh' of a carbon disk coming up my left side. I was shocked, and more than a little deflated at the fact that I was already getting passed by my .30 guy only a minute or so into it as I tried to keep him from passing. I blocked the negative thoughts as best I could and pressed on. Then I started getting pissed! I'm thinking, "THIS F'er's drafting off me!" So I cranked as hard as I could to get him off my wheel, but, by the sound echoing throughout by helmet, he remained right off to my left side...and likely, smirking at my effort. So, knowing that if I turned my head I'd be taking wind and, as a result effectively turning my brand new, state of the art Giro TT helmet into a sail, I threw my head to the side ready to chastise this Jerk, and saw nothing. I cranked my head to the other side, thinking he'd finally decided to pass me, and took as deep a breathe as I possibly could ready to blast him...nothing. The sound I was hearing was my own flippin wheel!

Me - "Hey Patrick, it's Jason. How's it going?"
P - "Good man, what's up?"
Me - "Well Wilson said you might have a disk I could borrow for VOS this weekend."
P - "Oh REALLY!?!" "He said that huh!?!"
Me - "Yeah, is it cool? If not, no worries bro.
P - "Well...did you tell Wilson that he owns a BIKE SHOP!?!?!"...laughter...

The echo of the disk was resonating up through my TT helmet and I'd completely forgotten that I was using one. Yet 2 more firsts for me...a disk, and a TT helmet...at least a half decent one.

I felt like an idiot! On top of that, I thought I was going to pass out from my attempt to drop....myself. :0/  I settled down into a rhythm and finally, after what seemed to be about 20 min., but in reality turned out to be something like...20 min :0/ I finally hit the turn around. I was passed by my .30 guy about half way back and managed to keep him @ 50m in front of me. I couldn't see out of my right eye (dry desserts don't mix with contact lenses) so I strained to see the finish tent off in the distance and gave it all I had for the last 300m and crossed the line. 57th with a whopping 34:39! Like I said...at least I looked fast! That super slippery feeling must have been the half tube of chamois butter I slathered all over.....the lower half of my body.

JB on the other hand cranked out a smokin' 31:56 which was good enough for 13th overall out of 91.

Wilson also cranked out a respectable 33:21 and sat 17th overall in the 3's going into the RR.

It was Sizzlers as we rolled into town Friday night, so I wasn't surprised when we rolled up to the Sweet Tomato for...wait for it.....another Buffet! Strait Up Town baby! "Where'd ya git dem chicken wangs?" Stuffed our faces with enough salad to sustain a large rabbit colony and followed it up with small pail of frozen yogurt! Game on! (dreamt about wrapping my arms around a ginormous Double-Double Animal style that night and woke up licking my forearm)

Made it to the RR with time to spare. Was forecast for 80 deg with a wind. The wind seemed to increase dramatically 5 min after we arrived...or, maybe it was just wherever I was standing. Got ready and rolled around for a few minutes before lining up. As I said, JB was sitting 13th so the plan was to try and get him off the front with Mike Jasinski, a young up and comer with Fremont Bank, who was sitting 20th overall, and maybe a few others. We roll out neutral for a bit before it started to ratchet up a bit. With 91 participants in our group and the center line strictly enforced, it was going to be tough moving up, or so we thought, so we maintained position in the top 15 or 20 of the pack.

- Lesson learned - keep the rider you're trying to protect in front of you because if he flats and you're the only other teammate he has, he may have to wait a few minutes for a wheel. In windy conditions...no bueno! And, you'll have no idea if you're in front of him.

I figured I'd stay close enough to the front to at least be able to react if something promising went up without J in it. I still haven't trained my eye to be able to pick out our kits in a bunch, at least a bunch of nervous twenty-somethings all looking to make some noise, and, as a result, I lose track of J before hitting the 1st turn.

We hit turn 1 and into the crosswind section and it went off. It starts to string out pretty quickly and I'm guttered instantly. Tiptoeing the edge of the road I manage to find enough of a draft without having to venture too far out of my comfort zone before it calmed back down. Evidently J had flatted shortly after that, and of course, I had no idea. We hit the tailwind section and I thought we'd get a bit of a respite, not a chance. We were flying! Averaged @ 25mph up the climb which was deceptively long. It was immediately strung out and I found myself weaving through traffic trying to find a wheel, but the only wheels to be found were hurling towards me giving me barely enough time to move out of their way. It was absolutely obscene! I saw Nick O, who was in a "spot of bother" and didn't even have the time to offer an encouraging word. We hit the crest of the climb as I take a deep breathe and relax, again thinking we'd get at least a bit of a breather, I mean, after all, this isn't the Masters 35+123's race. WRONG! It's full throttle again and I'm crouching as small as I could sucking every bit of draft I could find. It slowed a bit before turn 3 but ratchets right back up as soon as we round it and I'm out of the saddle once again. It slows right before the feed zone and we settle in to do it all over again. I'm out of the saddle, straining to look around and can't find J anywhere. I ask a few other Norcal riders and no one knows where he is.

After flatting J had to wait, I think he said a full minute(?) before the follow vehicle pulled up for a wheel change. He ended up chasing for a full 40 min! Herculean effort if there ever was one. Makes me wonder if I'd have the fortitude to do that. I think now, hearing that he did, will help me dig just a little deeper in the event it ever does happen. He found me right before turn 2 with a, "Hey Jas!" "Hey J, how ya doin'" "Not bad considering I just had to chase for the last 40 minutes!" "Oh sh!t!" "Well, lets get you out of the wind!" I move to his outside just before turn 2.

Again it ratchets up once we hit the tailwind section and, again, I lose J. This time it slows just a bit before hitting the climb so I start to look around. Greg White, who's there with his brother Russ, is right next to me and says, "He's four wheels in front of you bro!" Cool.

To the drops and out of the saddle we go as it starts stringing out about half way up the climb. All at once I hear that bone chilling sound of Carbon and precious metals hitting and scraping across the tarmac. I'm barely able to slam on my brakes, sliding my back tire, I narrowly miss getting caught up in the mayhem. I quickly glance over, scanning the wreckage looking for J, and can't see him so I focus my attention up the road and commit to clawing my way back to the pack that's now seemingly strewn all across the road and in complete disarray. It's deja vu all over again as I'm weaving through riders who've either thrown in the towel, or are taking a bit of a ciesta before plunging into the cavernous recesses of the daunting domain of pain. Not I...I jump in without even so much as a glance to see if I'm gonna hit any rocks, and into the deep end I go.


I'm able to jump on the tail end of the small chase group with Mark Deterline at the helm and rejoin the back of the pack just before the bottom of the descent. I throw myself wide into the turn and am able to skirt the outside of the group and back to the front 15 or so and breathe deeply for a few minutes before I start scanning for J. He's nowhere. Sh!t! I know for a fact that he was in front of me going into the climb. I maintain position in hopes that he'll find me once again, but that sneaking suspicion weighs heavy...he was in that crash.

We hit the tail wind section again and, you guessed it, full throttle. This is awesome! Someone's smart enough to drill it just when everyone's thinking about resting. I feel the slightest hint of a grin wrinkle my right cheek as I hit the drops. We hit the bottom of the climb and all at once, the same damned sound I'd heard the previous lap, in almost the same place, comes roaring at me. I find myself grabbing handfuls of brake and throwing my bike wide to the left and, thankfully, out of harms way. Of course, as a result, there I was looking up and seeing the remains of the pack scattered all over the hill like a fist full of marbles. Grabbing my drops, gripping them firmly, I put my head down and begin to throw my bike all over the road, lurching up the hill. Just as I'm passing the Finish line, I hear a familiar voice, "Lets GO JAS!" and my earlier fears were confirmed. J was out. Damn.

I dig. I reach the crest of the hill and the gap between pack, or what's left of it, and myself stops getting smaller. I'm just about to sit up and try to recover a bit, when I see Torey Philips of the Specialized Jr. Race Team pull through. He, one of his teammates and I were able to weave our way through traffic and latch back on to the main group, again right before turn 3. His frustration was evident. He was sitting 10th overall coming into the road race and, well, not knowing the particulars of their team strategy, I'll say nothing more about that. He's a strong, and humble young man and I look forward to watching him progress right along side my boy in years to come.

I was running out of water coming through the feed zone on the 5th lap so I reached out and grabbed a bottle of water. Not to be confused with a water bottle, this was a regular, store bought bottle of water with a twist off top that I was having trouble with, so, I just bit the damned thing right off and started to guzzle. I reach up and tip it over the back of my helmet, and just as I start to dump it in an attempt to cool myself a bit, I hear a guy complaining to a teammate that he'd tried twice to get a bottle of water and wasn't able to, so, I extend my arm and offer the other half of my bottle. You'd have thought that I'd offered the guy a Mexican Mocha from Folsom Grind with the way in which he went on. "No problem man." I reply as I hand him the slobbery lid.

The finish ended the same way as every lap before it. As I rose out of the saddle to sprint my right quad locked up in defiance, so back to the saddle I went to spin out a seated sprint to the line bumping me from 57th to 35th. The dry climate was definitely taking it's toll.

J had broken his bars and bent the rear derailer hanger, but was none the worse for wear, save a few scrapes on his palms and knee...oh, and a sweet scrape from the pads of his helmet on the front of his head, leaving him with two little marks which perfectly resembled little devil horns. Strangely enough, there were no marks of any kind on his helmet. Must have gone head first into the south end of a north sliding cyclist...wait, that didn't sound right.

Saturday evening we ended up at Chili's where I threw down an avocado burger which seemed to stay with me well into the morning. No doubt due to the fact that every bit of moisture had been sucked right out of my body by the arid desert climate. Woke up early the next morning with a splitting headache and no appetite. I force down a half a bowl of oatmeal and, ignorantly, a cup of coffee...what can I say...I'm a junkie. Off to the crit we go.

With J being out, and the fact that I felt a bit like twice smeared shite, I had instinctively switched to survival mode and had already mentally resigned myself to staying safe and getting in a good workout. Mike Jasinski was able to get himself into the winning break the day before and leapfrogged from 20th right up to 4th overall. I thought that maybe, if anything, I'd try to help him either move up in the GC or at least maintain his 4th place. That was a BIG maybe.

After a quick warm up, we headed for he start line. Our field had been reduced from 91 at the start of the Road Race, to under 70 for the start of the crit. Right from the 1st lap, there were kids out there half my age and younger throwing their rubber bodies into each other in efforts to avoid the manhole covers for sh!t's sake, and bunny hoping the longitudinal cracks in the road on the back side. It was one of the fastest, yet sketchiest crits I've done to date. Someone said that our avg speed was over 29 mph. I'd moved up toward the front a few times, but would inevitably have someone freak out in front of me and slam on his brakes for no apparent reason and watch, as the pack, almost in its entirety, thunder by me. So, I relegated myself to doing as best I could to stay out of trouble. Which I was able to do. Nick O pretty much stayed up towards the front the whole race ended up grabbing 2nd place with a beastly sprint. I Ended up 32 out of 62 finishers overall and hopefully a bit of fitness heading into Snelling and, for most, the "official" start to the 2011 race season. JB is riding right out of his gourd right now is incredibly strong and is absolutely ravenous.

Fielded some pretty solid compliments on our kits out there so that's always nice. That's not to mention getting a start on my wicked tan lines!
 
This was a bit of a bitter sweet weekend for me, as AJ was supposed to join us, but unfortunately, was unable to. There's always next year, and I see myself returning for some more early season fun in the sun.

Super special thanks to Wilson and Erin for putting up with us for the weekend. And to my roomie JB for putting up with me as well. Yes, I like to take long showers...sometimes twice a day...and I also like long walks along the beach and sunsets too. :0)

Thanks for reading.