When I had pre-registered for this race earlier in the week, the weather forecast was beautiful…warm and plenty of sunshine. By Friday the outlook had turned ominous…temps in the 50s/60s, along with rain, rain, and more rain. Having been tricked by such forecasts in the past few weeks, I dismissed it thinking “nah, it won’t actually rain.” But then, as Sebastian Bach of Skid Row once sang, I “woke up to the sound of pouring rain.”
Seriously wishing that I hadn’t already plunked down my money, I filled the water bottles, and loaded the car. This was to be my brother (and WFR teammate) Kevin’s return to racing after falling prey to the carnage at the Monsters of the Midway Criterium. He hadn’t pre-registered, so he made the game-day decision to solely be a spectator and cheer me on.
After we found a pretty choice parking spot near the course, I got my race number and proceeded to get dressed, wondering the whole time why I couldn’t have taken up a different sport…something easy and indoors…perhaps bowling. Kev was kind enough to pump up my tires and set the bike up on the trainer as I got dressed. I was able to warm up out of the rain under the covered stone entryway of a grand old church, watching the rain come and go.
The legs felt pretty good, so I was feeling optimistic. I had decided to race the 10:20 a.m. Masters 30+ 4/5 race, since it started two hours later than the Cat 4 race. Having successfully hung in with the “A” group (mostly Cat 1, 2 and 3 riders) at the Matteson crits on Tuesday night, I figured that I should be in good shape racing against my own peeps.
The course was a large “rectangular oval” (for lack of a better phrase) around beautiful Sherman Park in south Chicago. For the most part the pavement was good, and the four left-hand turns were wide open. This meant that very little braking would be involved…definitely a good thing on a rainy day like today.
After a warm-up lap around the course, I rolled to the line with about 40 other riders. The field limit of 75 had registered, so there were a lot of no-shows. Fine by me…on a day like today, a smaller field seemed safer. I was already splattered with road grit and grime after the warm-up lap, and it only got worse from there. The whistle blew and off we went into the rain at 25 mph. The pack was negotiating the random bumps and pavement cracks pretty well, and despite the wet conditions my bike felt pretty solid under me. Having crashed several times in the rain over the years, however, a small part of my mind spent 40 minutes pessimistically waiting for my wheels to suddenly slip out from underneath me.
Despite this nagging fear, everything else, with the exception of my eyes, felt great. The legs felt strong, my lungs were clear, and my heart rate stayed pretty low…I never felt like I was red-lining. As for the eyes, the incessant spray of water and grit in my face had me constantly squinting and blinking (and occasionally somewhat blinded). In my head I heard Luke Skywalker whining “I can’t even see…how am I supposed to fight?”
Surprisingly, on the whole it was a very clean race…except for early on when a rider in a black Merckx jersey moved left without looking. His rear wheel made solid contact with my front wheel. Fortunately, there was open space to the left of me and I was able to gently move away from him without incident. I was even able to keep the profanity in check…all he got was a loud “HEY!”
Early on about four riders took a flyer. I was close to the front, so I moved left and bridged up to them. We didn’t get any real distance on the field, and a moment later I took a quick glance under my arm to see the gruppo compatto directly behind me. After about 10 minutes of racing a prime lap was called. I was near the front, but let the pack surge around me…I wasn’t about to mix it up this early on for a t-shirt. Usually after the sprint for a prime the speed settles down a bit, but right after passing the start/finish we stepped on the gas again. I hung out in the back of the pack, despite hearing Kev yelling at me to move up. The pace wasn’t terrible, and my legs were feeling good. I knew there was plenty of time left and that I could move up whenever I pleased. So, after a few laps of getting carried along by the momentum of the peloton I shot up the left side and inserted myself back into the very front of the field.
There were random attacks here and there. There goes a xXx rider…OK, there goes a Beverly Bike-VeePak rider…there goes xXx again…lather, rinse, and repeat. None of them seemed very serious, and none of them stayed away. About 20 or so minutes in another prime lap is called, this time for a bottle of Zin. I think “nope, I’ve got plenty of wine in my basement…no need killing myself for this.” So again I let those who wish to contest the prime surge around me, and once that madness is past I move myself right back up to the front.
Shortly thereafter I heard them announce that there were only five laps to go. Such announcements are always a nice psychological boost. Up to this point I hadn’t been paying attention to the lap cards, nor had I been keeping an eye on my computer (it was coated with raindrops, so it was kinda hard to read, anyway). A couple riders took a flyer off the front and I was perfectly positioned to jump onto their break. I ended up in 2nd position, and when the lead rider pulled off I found myself in the unusual position of being the lead rider in the race. This is not a position that I am usually accustomed to being in! My first thought was “cool, I’m leading the race.” But then I realized “hey, I have no protection from the wind here…I don’t want to be here for too long.” After what felt like a decent pull I moved to the right to allow the next rider to pull through. He didn’t, and I led the break for the rest of the lap. Somewhere along the way the rest of the field caught back on to us. Guess I wasn’t going fast enough!
As we came around the start/finish with two laps to go, a prime lap is called for an iPod. I was more focused on keeping my legs fresh for the final sprint, so I didn’t try to contest this prime. I fell further toward the back of the field than I had intended, so as we came around for the bell lap I knew I had some work to do. I started to make my moves up through the pack, and got boxed in by a WDT rider and an International Christian Cycling rider. Halfway through the lap I heard the horrible sound of metal grinding on metal off to my left and behind me. Unbelievably, it turns out that no one had actually crashed. However, this bit of chaos opened the field up enough that I was able to move around WDT and ICC to get myself back to the front for the sprint. As we came around the final corner to the start/finish, I put on the gas. While sprinting as hard as I could, I eyeballed the field and counted only five riders ahead of me. Right at the line, however, a WDT rider came up alongside my right. I don’t know whether he pipped me at the line or not.
So, pending the official results I think I held on for 6th or 7th, which would be my best result ever. I was excited to feel so relaxed and comfortable throughout a miserable race. More importantly, I was happy that even amidst the chaos of the final lap I was able to move my way all the way up through the field and put myself in really good position for the sprint. Now I just need to break into the top 5!
[PHOTOS COURTESY OF KEVIN BUTLER]
STATS:
Race time: 39:48
Distance: 16.28
Average pace: 2:26/mile
Average speed: 24.5
Max speed: 30.0
Average HR: 162
Max HR: 177
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