Chad's spot for various thoughts, musings, poetry, ideas and whatnot

Monday, February 16, 2009

Race day starts at 5 am, in the dark, more than four hours before my start time. All of the prep the night before is loaded into and onto the car for the 90 minute trip to Hiram. Traffic is light giving time to organize the race in my mind. The big question is, will it rain?

I arrive at the trailhead. How many times has it been that I've done this race? Six? The weather's always different. This year looks wet. Robert's here, I see the tent. I sign in and get my number. 502. There's the usual seeing fellow racers from years before and saying hi and a quick catch up. Ronnie's here to organize the Aaron's team. He and I used to race together and we're still good friends. I unload the car and set the trainer up. The big question means a big decision. Do I go with the PowerTap rear wheel and get data to improve my training or run the more aerodynamic disk? If it's dry I run the PowerTap but the head unit doesn't work in the rain. I put the PowerTap wheel on the Cervelo for warm-up. I slip on the Security Bank skinsuit for the first time. It feels good.

Todd's ready to go off and I get on the trainer. U2's on the Shuffle as I begin to spin up. It starts to rain again. Start numbers are being called but I tune them out for now. How does my body feel? How do my legs feel? Five minutes into the warm-up I start the series of harder efforts designed to bring my body to point where it can put out the power I'll need. Everything feels good. Really good, actually. As the efforts get harder my legs respond well. No laboring; everything's smooth. Sweat blossoms. Bono's singing "Elevation" and my legs are turning the cranks. Everything feels like it's in rhythm. It's all good.

At thirty minutes for warm-up I mentally make the call. It's still raining. I'm going to switch to the disk. No power data today but I'll go faster. I can't say that I'm disappointed. I feel good and I want the win. I haven't felt this good at this event in three years.

Five minutes to start. I down two gels and some water. I put on the new aerodynamic helmet. The team's getting ready to start and I'm the last in the team line behind Jeff "Stoney" Clayton. He's my 30 second man; my rabbit. The guy behind me is a Cat III from a team I don't know of. I'm not going to let him catch me. Robert goes off. I make sure the bike is in the right gear for the start. Ronnie shoots out of the start house. I get clipped in and I make sure that everything's set to go. Jeff is sent off and I'm up. I thank John, today's head official, for helping to make this possible. The volunteer grabs my seatpost and holds me up. I clip my other foot in and rotate the cranks to a good starting position. I focus on Jeff who is down the road. I start taking deep breaths and listen for the countdown. 5...4...3...2...1...Go!

I'm off and sprinting up to speed. One hundred meters down the course I sit down and shift into a harder gear. The shift is good and I relax a bit; the gears are going to work OK today. My heart rate shoots up and I realize I need to back off a bit like I always do. I settle into my aero position and try to tuck my head in behind my hands as best I can. I start the mental checklist: breathing, legs, position, effort, gearing, gut. I'll go through this a hundred times in the next twenty minutes evaluating my performance. I can't let my mind wander or I'll lose focus and slow down. I've got to always push.

Jeff's ahead of me and I'm starting to close in. Not much right at first but more as we head out to the turn around. At the two mile mark I turn the screw a little bit and go just a bit harder. I can feel it on the gradual rises, I'm right at threshold now. Jeff's right there and I know I can get him. A mile before the turn around I catch him and go around. Where's the next rabbit?

Two minutes later I'm at the turn. It's tight and I take it slow on the wet concrete. It gives my heart a chance to get back on top of my effort and I stand and sprint up the little hill. The next rider is right in front of me. It's not Ronnie. I catch him one hundred meters past the turn and start looking for Ronnie. He's my next rabbit, I think. On the way back I turn up the intensity again. I'm just about sick which is right where I need to be. I can't feel my legs burn, they're that good today. I catch another rider. And another. None of them are Ronnie. Lots of traffic to get around. I'm flying but where's Ronnie?

One mile to go. I nearly catch air going over one of the road crossings. I know the spot from previous races so I'm prepared. I start to bury myself. I see the overpass that's two hundred meters from the finish. It's uphill from here to the overpass and so I stand up and give it everything I have. I'm wide-mouthed and my legs are screaming when I crest the hill. I drop back into my aero position and click to a harder gear for the last effort. I can barely see when I cross the line.

As I head back down the Comet, I catch up with Robert and Ronnie. It turns out that Ronnie almost caught Robert. He's had a great ride. There are lots of congratulations handed around as we know we've all ridden well. Results won't be posted for a couple more hours so four of us take a long cool down ride. There's a lot of talk about the race and how each of us felt. I'm riding the endorphins and I feel good for a while before the wet and cold catch up with me.

When we get back, all the riders have finished and our times are posted. Robert and I scan the Cat 4 results and find our times. I've got a 22:17 which is surprisingly good given the cold and wet conditions. As we continue to scan the results I realize that I've won the race. It's been three years since I stood on the podium at Tundra. Today I'll return. It's been a long road with a lot of ups and downs. It feels good to win and even better to do it riding in the team colors with my teammates around.

There's still a lot of work to do but it's a good start.

Thanks for Reading .

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