May 6, 2006
When Tom and Sheila picked me up a cloudy Saturday morning, Sheila wasn’t a happy stoker. Apparently she woke up crooked, and the fact that I couldn’t figure out how to work the fork mount on the Thule rack left her sputtering in frustration. She secured my bike to the car, muttering expletives under her breath, while I folded myself into the back of the plush Oswald Cycle Works Team Micro Car and cowered. I should have known that Sheila’s mood was premonition of things to come.
The weather in Addison was questionable. Forty-seven degrees and cloudy skies. I spent precious energy shivering outside the trick team car, debating on knickers or shorts. While I fumbled with my shorts, Tom and Sheila motored off on the tandem to warm up. I soon followed with Jared. Twenty-five minutes before the starting gun, the skies opened. In minutes, I was soaked, and my legs felt raw from the rain and road spray. Should have gone with the knickers. Water ran down my legs and into my shoes, and soon I had a bad case of squishy toe. Crap. This race was gonna be miserable.
And it was. We lined up, a random sampling of fifty or so yahoos in various states of hypothermia, including some people in cotton (?!!) and a couple of guys on recumbents (one wearing cotton!). The gun fired and we were off, cruising easily at about 23 mph right into the teeth of the rain and the wind. Getting comfortable in the pack was out of the question—road spray made tight drafting unpleasant, like riding in a pack of weirdly-dressed, mischievous teens wielding Super Soakers full of cold, gritty water.
And so we rode. Seeing a small climb ahead and finding myself about 2/3s of the way back in the pack, I pulled out and rode to the front. I knew there was short climb somewhere, but I wasn’t sure where, so I figured I’d make everyone pass me if this was it. It turned out not to be much of a climb, and I was able to chat with Jared a bit. I noticed a guy in a yellow jersey off to my right looking across the front of the pack and acting itchy to make something happen. Sure enough, near the top Yellow Jersey jumped—right before the downhill and into the headwind. Needless to say, he didn’t get far—maybe twenty-five yards—before the pack quickly reeled him in. It reminded me of a brilliant attack I initiated once in a road race—downhill with a tailwind. I’ve gotten smarter about burning my matches since then, not that I could light one at Addison anyway.
We finally hit the hill about a mile later. (Actually, around here, I guess one would call it a “hill-let.”) I flubbed it for two reasons: 1) I wasn’t aggressive in trying to stay with the leaders; and 2) I wasn’t fit enough to be aggressive. At the top, I looked around and saw Tom and Sheila, Pam, Jane, and Pony-Tailed Dude. We weren’t far from the lead group, and I briefly had hopes of catching them. But we didn’t get organized quickly enough and that was that. Bye, bye, main field.
After the turnaround, we had a tailwind. I locked in behind the Tom and Sheila-powered tandem and felt like Petacchi’s offspring as we motored along at 34 mph. It wasn’t to last. We settled into a rhythm. T & S pulled on the down hills, I pulled on the up hills, we got attacked by other riders. T & S pulled on the down hills, I pulled on the up hills, we got attacked. As so it went for several miles. I was getting a bit grumpy, and bumped everyone off the tandem’s wheel after my pulls. Weirdly enough, Sheila’s mood was now the brightest part of the race as she joked about food and cold and other silliness.
By this time, my body was rebelling in a big way. My jaws were numb, and I couldn’t feel my arms from the elbow down. I kept trying to shake blood into my hands to no avail. At times, I wasn’t sure I could maintain control of the bars.
About six miles from the finish, our gruppetto had a chat, and we started working together. Soon, we had a fully functioning paceline. Big fun! We covered the final few miles in style, until finish line shenanigans bubbled over. T & S jacked up the pace, providing me with an excellent lead out. I sprinted for what turned out to be 21st place. Kind of goofy, I know, but it was nice to have a kick after 34 cold, wet, hard miles.
No need for a cool down. We rode straight to the car and shivered into dry clothes. Numb from the elbows down, I could barely pull my wet shorts down or dry shorts up. We walked inside the school and told war stories while we shivered uncontrollably.
A shout out to the following folks:
• Kudos to the group for riding so safely in such poor conditions.
• T & S were total studs on the tandem. They won their category. Awesome performance from two people who don’t eat meat!
• Joe Allis TT’d in by himself from the turnaround. We couldn’t catch him. He also finished second in his age group. Total studliness!
• Jared finished fourth overall. Pretty good for another guy who doesn’t eat meat!
• Tioga Tom Kaufman had a strong race as well, finishing 16th.
• Addison did a superb job hosting the race. I look forward to it again next year.
- Jimmy Guignard
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