The course today was right across the street from the "Pelladrome" in West Chicago. It was a 1.8 mile paved loop around what had been planned to be an office park. The Cat 4s were on tap to do 14 laps. The east and west ends of the course both featured a fair amount of uphill which in the absence of wind would have been manageable. But not today...
I hadn't pre-registered, so as the wind whipped around me on my walk over to registration the rational part of my mind said "back out while you still can." Perhaps I should have listened to that voice. But I laid my money down, got my number, and headed back to the car for a warm-up on the trainer. As I spun, clouds started to gather and the wind seemed to get worse.
After one warm-up lap out on the course I rolled to the line with 22 other riders. All the usual suspects were there. My nightmare began as soon as the whistle blew...I performed one of the most amateurish clip-ins of my racing career. For the life of me I just could not get that left cleat engaged in the pedal! I felt like a total goob as riders surged past me.
And surge they did. This field had no intention of hanging together to fight the wind...those at the front clearly intended to shatter what little peloton we could have had and turn this into a 25-mile strung-out drag race. After finally getting myself clipped in, and hauling a** to join up with the field, I could tell that this was not going to end well. My legs felt like two lumps of lead and my heart rate was already through the roof.
I soon found myself spit out the back of the main field, but fortunately I was not the only one. I was able to get in a four-man group with Beverly Bike, WDT, and a Purdue rider. Initially there was still hope that we could catch back on to the field, but with each passing moment that hope got further and further away. As did the field.
By now I was in agony. My lungs were burning, and with each gasp it was like breathing in liquid fire. All the while, my heart was firmly lodged somewhere right behind my uvula. We dropped the WDT rider, and picked up someone else, keeping our group at four. But then the uphill start/finish stretch was my downfall. I lost touch with my group, and found myself all alone out in the wind.
I rode another two laps to make for a tidy 7.5 mile "race." I was caught on the backstretch by the 40+ Cat 4/5 field that had been started right behind the Cat 4 field. And on the start/finish stretch I looked behind me and saw the pace car breathing down my neck. As I rode past the official at a mere 22 minutes into the race I made the imaginary slash across my neck and stated "I'm done." As I rode away I heard them announcing over the loudspeaker that 483 had dropped out. Thank you everyone, I suck.
What an ignominious end to the season.
