It's Friday afternoon and I found myself up in Auburn at Bicycle Emporium getting a 9th hour hookup from Bill "Bubba" Morengo on a TT rig for AJ. I'll save my PG-13 readers from posting his initial response to my asking if he'd be able to get it built and rolling in 2 hours. Funny though it may have been...it's the visual that would send it over the top. Bill, being the kinda guy that would send Sinatra back to wardrobe for an overcoat, gave me that disgusted "Uncle Vito" look, "Pshhhh" then hollered out to Nando, "Hey Nando, you wanna hook up your compadre here and build him a TT bike?" "Chure, no-prollem!" Nando says without skipping a beat. I've gotta tell you, without the help of a good hearted bike shop, those of us who race on a budget, would never be able to continue to do what we love to do.
It's 9am and we roll to a stop along the side of Santa Fe Dr. in Sharon Ca. for AJ's Time Trial and the start of the Cat 3 Stage Race. The 1st rider in AJ's category is to start at 10:30. AJ's start time, 11:02. It's a beautiful sunny day, perfect for bike racing, not so perfect for TT'ing with a strong NNW wind at @ 10-12mph. He's lucky. He gets to do the TT, then the crit. I, on the other hand, get to sit around all day and wait for the 1:50 start for my crit, followed by a 5:35 start for my TT. Was shaping up to be a long day.
After a decent warmup, AJ heads out. I wish him good luck, give him a hug, tell him to tear it up, and watch as he rolls off towards the start. I turn back and start cleaning up, trying to keep myself preoccupied so as not to worry too much. Anything can happen in a bike race. Fighting to keep the bad thoughts at bay, I finish cleaning up and take a seat on the tail gate. Swinging my feet, trying to think happy thoughts. I watch and listen as people start coming through. They're spent, breathing heavily, and some of them are talking to friends and teammates about the course. 20+ minutes is a looong time to wait when you're a concerned Dad. I figure, as long as he comes riding up from the left (Finish line) and not the right, it's all good. I look up and see Emon riding up, muttering something to himself. Couldn't quite make it out, save the last few words, "_uck Emon!" It reminds me of just what the TT is all about. They don't call it "The race of truth" for nothing. It's a race against the clock and in order to be successful, one needs the ability to push themselves to the edge and keep it there for and extended period of time. You either love it, or hate it. I'm undecided...
Dr. Steve Offerman passes and I hail out. He's just finished and starts to tell me about the course when I look up to see AJ rolling up with a smile. "Hey bud!" "How was it!?!" regrettably, but unintentionally cutting Steve off. "Good" he replied, and started telling me all about it. We didn't have time to put any kind of computer or anything on the rig so we didn't have any idea as to how he did. We'd have to wait for them to post it in the evening at the "Official" race headquarters which happens to be the Hampton Inn. We throw everything in the back of the truck and make our way towards the Crit course.
After a stress filled drive full of wrong turns and roads turning into other roads without warning and the directions provided by the race promoter not bothering to mention it, we make it to the course. Fast forward to the last few laps of my race. 2 laps to go, I'm towards the front as we hit turn 2. A few riders go up the road and I hear Chad on my wheel, "Go get that!" I hit the throttle. We're there before turn 3 and it sits up. Great! Always love burning matches for nothing We roll through the Start/Finish to the ringing of the final lap bell. The tension increases ten fold. Like static in the air, I can feel the hair on the back of my neck stand up. Like a lava cap seconds from blowing, we nervously take turn 1 waiting for the eruption. I make it through taking the inside line which caused me to scrub a bit of speed so I stand on the pedals coming out of it. I tuck in around 15th wheel. We hit turn 2 and it starts to string out a bit. Like a vein of molten lava flowing down a mountain side we serpentine down the back stretch, everyone trying to get as little as they can and stay on the wheel in front of them. I hit turn 3 at around 10th wheel and hear Chad again just 2 wheels back. "Jay, move up!" "GOTTA GO!" "JAY, WE GOTTA GO...MOVE UP!" I knew I had JB and Chad on my wheel and wanted to wait to go so I could gutter it to the inside with just enough room for my teammates to come around, but anxiety mixed in with Chad's incessant nagging got the better of me and I punched it to the inside. I was 1st hitting the final turn as I stood on the pedals and giving it a go for about 50m before pulling off. My momentum took me wide through the turn so I pretty much led out the entire field. JB came thundering past me with Chad in tow. We ended up 5th, not the result we were hoping for, but, on the bright side, if there is one, we kept it safe. Lesson learned...patience.
AJ's crit went off right after mine so I rolled over to the truck. We'd parked right at turn 2 which gave me a perfect spot to watch the action. He was able to get into an early move with 12 others that ended up staying out...with a little help...of course. Every time I'd see a lul in the action, I'd yell out the split that was always about 5 seconds closer than it really was. It seemed to work, they'd pick up the pace every time I'd yell out. AJ was looking strong, taking short, meaningful pulls and staying alert. I was too far to hear the final bell and wasn't able to run over to watch the finish, but AJ pulled out a respectable 5th place. Nice. Without much time, we hastily load everything back into the truck and make our way back over to the TT course.
Not much to tell about my TT. It was hard, and definitely nothing to brag about. Starving and tired, we made our way over to the hotel. We check in, grab all the gear from the truck, grab a quick shower and head out to dinner with the fellas. We dined with the Zenn guys. Cool bunch of fellas, contrary to popular belief. :) (J/k Scotty) Pizza was surprisingly very good and hit the spot. This is one of my favorite things about racing really. Kicking back, talking about the days events, joking, laughing, and talking trash. I always enjoy hearing about races I was in from others perspectives. I look over at AJ and he's having a ball. He's totally comfortable joshing with the guys and ribbing right back, the kid gives no ground...17 years old and fitting right in...makes me smile seeing him have so much fun. I do wonder at times though...should he be hanging with kids his own age? Am I unintentionally causing some sort of disconnect with those his own age by always having him with me? I just enjoy his company so much and love watching him handle different questions and situations with the ease and self understanding of a 30 year old. Guess that's a question that only time will answer. It's always tough encountering moments of question like this. It reminds me that soon, I'll have to let go of the reigns completely.
We stop by the Hampton to see if they've posted the results yet. The lobby is full of cyclists. Some playing cards, some zoning out, some stretching, some passed out, but most, like us, waiting impatiently. So, instead of wasting good recovery time, we drag ourselves back to the hotel. As soon as AJ's head hits the pillow, he's out. I set the alarm, jump online to check the web one last time to see if they've posted anything, channel surf for a bit with one eye open, then pass out.
My nervous bladder has me up at 4:30am and NOT ready for action. I've had more than my share of days where the brain was about 3 steps behind, but this morning, I'd look back and it was nowhere to be found. What I should have done was load everything up, then made my way over to Dennys right next door, but noooo...AJ and I get there and sit for 15 min before we're even looked at. I swear, AJ probably didn't get a chance to relax until the drive home Sunday afternoon. Again, breakfast takes longer than any of us had expected. after shoveling eggs, pancakes with syrup, oatmeal, bacon and toast like we'd just been released from a vegan Zen retreat center, AJ and I are once again, frantically throwing everything in the truck, trying to get out to the start of the Road Race. AJ's split second glance over his shoulder saves the day as I flew by our turnoff motoring down a road that, once again, changed names without warning. We finally park and AJ springs into action, doing what I've done for him countless times. In no time, he's got Dad's # pinned on and rolling up the road ready to rock. His race isn't to start until after 11 so he's left to fend for himself, which, now that I think about it, is probably the way he prefers it. Dad's not around hen pecking, making him even more nervous than he already is. Maybe it's the coffee...I dunno. Been trying to cut back...
Sitting at the start line I'm overcome with the strangest feeling. I'm not at all nervous. In fact, I'm downright comfortable...cold, but comfortable. Usually I'm parched, filled with anxiety, and really don't begin to relax until well into the race. I look over at JB and he's shaking uncontrollably. Chad's shaking as well. Not surprised really, it was flippin' cold! Luckily, I've lathered my legs with hot sauce and seemingly have found the only sliver of sunlight available.
The 1st lap starts off fairly easy allowing everyone to warm up a bit. I typically hate rollouts, but was thankful that the moto ref kept everyone at a nice and easy pace. Jump to the 2nd lap and to no ones suprise, Dan Martin attacks. This time Dan Bryant, a Taleo guy, and one other were able to get away with him. We let them go for a while before deciding to chase it down. Specialized had Innes, Laberge, Anderson, and Hellman. All but Innes went to the front. Chad joined in and I followed suit. The plan was to help JB who had flatted in the 1st 3 miles of the TT so of the 3 of us, he had the best legs. We had no one in contention for the overall so it was just going to be an all out effort to get our guy on the podium. Just before heading to the front, I'm sitting behind Innes on the "cobble" section of the race and BAM! Puncture. "When are they going to fix these G.D roads!?!" I hear him say as he floats back and joins the ranks of numerous others who would have the DNP next to their name on the results page. I was one of them last year. Barely got 5 miles into the race when I hit the infamous pot hole that's since been repaired...thankfully.
So, I regret to say it, but as soon as it happens, I'm riding next to Chris Ott and I say, "There goes Innes." To which he repied, "Yeah, and there goes our chase." I then did something that I'm not proud of and am almost too ashamed to admit...I say, as he yells up to Fonseca who was 3 wheels up from us, "Not if you don't say anything...let them find out on their own." Scott rears back and says, "What!?!" "Nothing!" I reply. Chris looks over at me with a devilish smile. So, along with Chris and Scott, we join in on the chase. Anderson, Hellman, Laberge, Chad, Scott, Chris, Rob, and I hit the front and start drilling it. A few San Jose guys jumped in for a bit, but tire quickly, they were trying to keep their GC guy, Manly fresh and protected as well. Jason Grefrath had a teammate up and joined in and slowly pulled through in a gentlemanly attempt at slowing the pace a few times. Good on him for not being too disruptive. He was sitting in the top 6 or so in the GC so I was totally surprised to see him up there at all. The Berkeley guys didn't even have anyone up, they just didn't want to work. I'd fall back to try and rally a few others and to take a breather and had one of them pull up beside me and ask if we had anyone in the GC. "F__K NO!" I barked! "No?" he replied. "NO man, we just wanna race bro!" "Sure could use a hand." He tried to tell me that they only had 2, but I reminded him that they had 3, just like us. Didn't make a difference. So, back to the front I went. Chad was riding like a man possessed. Hammering at the front. JB joins in and takes a few meaningful pulls. Then, the Specialized guys do something that is worthy of some serious praise. I see Laberge drop back for a few miles after realizing that their GC guy was out with a puncture. But he jumps right back in with us and continues to help reel in the break. Awesome! That had to be one of the better chase groups I'd been in. All of us would take a break for a few rotations, a few guys would jump in for a few pulls, and right back in we'd go. We've almost got the break back as we hit the fast front stretch. I fall back for a breather and try one last time to rally a few others. I look over and see Gambetta and a few other Vitamin Water guys sitting right on the back of the echelon ready to pounce. I roll up next to another Berkeley guy who's sitting in next to Gambetta and say, "Jump in man!" "Nah." he says, "I'm not feeling it man...trying to save if for the rollers...I wouldn't be any help anyway." "Whatever man!" I say as I jump back into the rotation.
As soon as we bring the break back, the Vitamin Water guys jump to the front right before the right hand turn and slowly begin to ratchet up the pace. I was deep in the pain cave by the time we hit the "Roubiax" section and the Vitamin Water guys did just what they were supposed to. They were protecting Brian Choi their GC guy who sat in 1st place at the beginning of the race. They twisted the throttle wide open and left it there. Riders were scattered all over the road like bowling pins when it went off. Like some sort of invisible force field, everyone slammed to the left side of the road desperately trying to hold on to the wheel in front of them. I held on for dear life tiptoeing the edge of what was left of the crappy, deteriorated road fully expecting to go down at any moment in a tangled mass of bikes and riders because I just knew that someone was going to pull a superman over the bars from nosing off the road and into a pothole and take all of us with him. Guys were blowing up one after the other. I was on the verge of throwing out the anchor when I look up and see Chad, who'd been battling it out on the front for most of the race, pull to the right, into the wind and surrender to the relentless onslaught. I couldn't quit now, that would have left JB, who was two wheels up from me to fend for himself. Sinking my teeth into my stem I tried to imagine myself squeezing through the smallest hole possible in a grave attempt to stay with the lead group. I pulled out and into the wind along side of JB to try and offer a bit of respite from the crosswind, but couldn't hold it. As we approached the end of the Roubiax section I'd given all I had, I sat up and tossed out the anchor, finished, done, matchless. Just as I did that, much to my surprise and delight, it slowed just before the first roller. I saw Fonseca hit the throttle, no one chased. I had just enough to grab onto the wheel in front of me. I've no idea who's it was and barely have any recollection of much more than the fact that it took everything I had to make it to the back of the group while cresting the first roller. I tucked as best I could and let gravity do all the work in another desperate attempt to recover something, anything. Because I couldn't pedal anymore a gap formed and once again, I grabbed at my bar, tossing my bike back and forth struggling to catch back onto the back. We hit the top of the last roller and I was able get back up to the group, and for the second time, I was done. Once again, out went the anchor. "That's it...and that's all!" I thought to myself. "I'm D-O-N-E!" My legs feel like they've just been completely ripped right from my body and were flapping on the tarmac right next to me...I glance over just to make sure they hadn't. My arms feel like they're going to buckle at the elbow and I'm going to smash my face on my bar knocking out all of my teeth which also feel like they've just been ripped right out with the rest of my face. I can barely see strait, but I look up to see the guy from Art's Cycles at the back of the group, who'd smartly been sitting in the whole time, jump from the right all the way to the left. I sit there in awe as the road parts like the Red Sea opening a lane the width of the Champs-Élysées as he dives in. I don't know where I found it, I'd burned every match in my book and the book with it, but I cranked about 5 hard times and jumped on his wheel. He took me all the way to the front and I watched him ride off. With nothing at all left I angrily refused to listen to my body which was screaming in protest and fought my bike throwing it all over the road bumping and grunting I was passed by 4 others, but no more and pulled a 6th with JB on my wheel 7th. What a race.
AJ muscled out an impressive 3rd in his race pulling him up to 9th in the overall GC. All in all, it was an incredible weekend of racing for us. AJ finally came out of his shell and started believing in himself.....and so did I.
Again, a huge shout out to Bubba and the fellas up at B.E.
Thanks for reading.
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