Maple Bay Road Race, 65KM
Did my first road race today. I am feeling somewhat South of buggered but North of crippled. My legs feel as if they've been beaten by police truncheons, my stomach is insatiable with its importunate food cravings, and my head feels trapped in a vice (yes, yes, bad boy, dehydrated again). But other than that, I feel great! Call it 'cyclist's high'...
The race was in a format called "Australian Pursuit" which is cyclingese for "unyielding and brutal". Basically, it's a system used in Master's Racing (age 30 and over) to level the field between "young" and old: the oldest athletes (70+)are released with a 6 minute head start, and thereafter the racers are released in 'decades' (age groups of ten years) with gaps descending by a minute (60-69 6 minutes after 70+, 50-59 5 minutes after 60-69, etc). The idea is that this will bring the horde together *right* at the finish for a mass sprint. It *sounds* like a great idea, however, upon surveying the swelled quads, malefic countenances and ultrasleek carbon road machines of the 40+ crew, I knew this wasn't going to happen.
The pace was 'piano' (soft) for the first, oh...200 meters, whence it descended into a 'hammerfest' for the next 64 km or so. Burly #324 attacked about every km or so, and soon managed to fracture the pack into shards, with a lead 4 and the rest of us trailing. After a huuuge effort, which depleted me and left my legs feeling like noodles and my lungs burning as if slaked with caustic, I managed to bridge up to the front 4. We stayed together until almost the end of the 2nd lap, upon which bumptious 324 launched again, and was joined by a long, whippet-faced fellow; they surged ahead, and I got caught in no-man's land between them and the trailing pack. After, oh, they established a 300 m gap or so I gave up redlining it to catch them, and stayed on my own for a lap, upon which I was joined by a compatriot who held my wheel for most of the rest of the race, until I burned him off. He was a good guy, strong, and in his defence, he seemed to be having front derailleur problems.
I basically coasted on my own, overtaking a few more riders until the finish. I placed 2nd in my age group, of 5 riders, and 3rd in the 30-39 group. I feel pretty good about that, considering it was my 1st road race.
One other note of piquance...a large section of the uphill finish was in the process of getting re-paved, and so was cratered with huge potholes, strewn with loose rocks (some of them baseball-sized :-o ), and bumpy in the extreme. It gave me a very *small* glimpse of what the pros must endure on Paris-Roubaix.
It was, all in all, an incredibly fun day. A grown man really shouldn't have this much fun. I wonder why it's taken me so long to rediscover the youthful joy of riding my bike. Better late than never, I suppose.
The race was in a format called "Australian Pursuit" which is cyclingese for "unyielding and brutal". Basically, it's a system used in Master's Racing (age 30 and over) to level the field between "young" and old: the oldest athletes (70+)are released with a 6 minute head start, and thereafter the racers are released in 'decades' (age groups of ten years) with gaps descending by a minute (60-69 6 minutes after 70+, 50-59 5 minutes after 60-69, etc). The idea is that this will bring the horde together *right* at the finish for a mass sprint. It *sounds* like a great idea, however, upon surveying the swelled quads, malefic countenances and ultrasleek carbon road machines of the 40+ crew, I knew this wasn't going to happen.
The pace was 'piano' (soft) for the first, oh...200 meters, whence it descended into a 'hammerfest' for the next 64 km or so. Burly #324 attacked about every km or so, and soon managed to fracture the pack into shards, with a lead 4 and the rest of us trailing. After a huuuge effort, which depleted me and left my legs feeling like noodles and my lungs burning as if slaked with caustic, I managed to bridge up to the front 4. We stayed together until almost the end of the 2nd lap, upon which bumptious 324 launched again, and was joined by a long, whippet-faced fellow; they surged ahead, and I got caught in no-man's land between them and the trailing pack. After, oh, they established a 300 m gap or so I gave up redlining it to catch them, and stayed on my own for a lap, upon which I was joined by a compatriot who held my wheel for most of the rest of the race, until I burned him off. He was a good guy, strong, and in his defence, he seemed to be having front derailleur problems.
I basically coasted on my own, overtaking a few more riders until the finish. I placed 2nd in my age group, of 5 riders, and 3rd in the 30-39 group. I feel pretty good about that, considering it was my 1st road race.
One other note of piquance...a large section of the uphill finish was in the process of getting re-paved, and so was cratered with huge potholes, strewn with loose rocks (some of them baseball-sized :-o ), and bumpy in the extreme. It gave me a very *small* glimpse of what the pros must endure on Paris-Roubaix.
It was, all in all, an incredibly fun day. A grown man really shouldn't have this much fun. I wonder why it's taken me so long to rediscover the youthful joy of riding my bike. Better late than never, I suppose.
posted by Stallionforce at 8:20 PM
1 Comments:
Woo! Glad you're getting something out of all the punnishment.
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