I had a bad day. What that means in bike racing is that the balancing act between fitness, mental stability, diet and recovery is a delicate one. Having “good legs” or “good form” reminds me of the proverbial elephant at the circus balancing on a striped ball. There’s a fleeting moment there when Dumbo looks perfectly at ease, a serene picture of floppy eared confidence. Then Dumbo falls on his ass.
I had good rest, good nutrition and felt ready. Hell, I even live here and was able sleep in my own bed, eat my own oatmeal and listen to my own pre race Camper Van Beethoven. So…what the hell?
We started easy, the first climb was manageable. I was in a good place; the smell of chain lube, chains rumbling over well-lubed drivetrains, the roar of carbon wheels. These are all thing I love about bike racing. They inspire me to spend lots of money and devote far too much time but it keeps me sane.
The masters field is full of world, national and state champions and ex pros. Guys who have signed autographs! Teams were eyeing each other and tensions were high. But at the end of the day, it’s just bike racing and that’s what we started to do at the bottom of the descent.
An early breakaway was gobbled up and several counterattacks jumped into the ether like fleas off an old dog. One in particular got going with just the right combination of guys to make things happen and my team leader, John Browning, rolled up next to me expressing worry. Rather than dig in and reel them in, like I should have, I told him to relax and let the other teams do the work. Meanwhile, John O’Brien selflessly went to the front and started to pull them back. I followed his example, got up there and started digging away at the break.
We got them back, watched some others try for glory and then Browning and one of the Broadband guys got out there and it was time to get to work. Call it negative racing. Whatever. If you try to chase down my teammate, you’re not going to get anywhere until he’s got a nice, respectable gap. I kept that up until the break got established and then let the other teams try their best to get organized.
As we passed Devils Lake, I felt rain. Rain? It was at least 90 degrees! I looked up to see a guy I raced with as a kid taking an on the bike nature break right in the middle of the field. I rarely lose my temper, but feeling another man’s urine on your face should not be a part of anyone’s day.
As the road got steeper, I had inklings that I might be in trouble. My legs got stiff and my head began to hurt. I began to get dizzy and had the definite sense that I was doing water aerobics. My nose began to run and I calves felt like railroad spikes were being driven through them.
I’ve done Sparks Lake climb before, but today I felt like I was in some alien landscape. It was like the Bugs Bunny episode where Bugs invades Elmer Fudd’s nightmare and pours Nightmare Paint all over the walls. It was that bad. Elmer danced before my eyes in a spotted tutu while bugs laughed madly somewhere in the trees.
I crossed the line, grabbed something to drink and had a painful, slow and dizzy ride back to my car. When I got home I weighed myself out of morbid curiosity. I weighed 197 pounds this morning and weighed 190 pounds this afternoon, after a huge sandwich!
I’m going to drink a few gallons of water, eat a horse and hope for the best tomorrow.
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