Saturday, February 16, 2013
The Strava Life
I've been losing a lot of Strava KOM's these days that I never even knew existed or that I even held. I find it quite amusing. I guess the rest of the country is catching up to the larger cities. Take NYC for example, a typical Central Park ride has me hitting on average 8.6 segments...EVERY MILE! It's not that bad when I leave the city however there are still a lot of segments. Every little rise or even worse, the downhills. All for a little self promotion and to feed the ego. At least Strava got the social forum part right, that has served our team well. I guess you can't expect them to control all those egos that need feeding! Finally, someone summed up all those segment chasers, quite entertaining!
Sunday, February 10, 2013
NYC Snow Storm
So what happens when a snow storm hits a city with 1.6 million residents? Some hide out inside and order delivery...and yes the delivery guys were out in force throughout the entire storm. Delivering precious take out food. By bicycle. And then there are the others who descend on Central Park to play...and yes, even the cyclists were out to have a good time.
Wednesday, January 2, 2013
The Unforeseen Challenge
With 2012 wrapped up and planning for the 2013 season well under way, it's time to take a quick look back. I have to say, I never would have imagined 75% of how this past season unfolded. A death at a race, getting run down, and the aftermath of the "accident" that dragged on and on. By the end of this season, I was cooked. Physically I was fine, mentally I was done. It really hit me in early to mid November when at first it was just skipping one weekend ride and taking a day off. Why not I thought, it's the off season. Work travel had picked up to a relentless pace keeping me away from the bike more days than I liked during the week. Overall I didn't worry; it was time to let the body recover anyway. Besdies, there was no reason to ride other than fun, plain and simple fun. No training, no intervals, no hill repeats, just fun. But as work began to wear on me with long trips and longer hours, I began skipping more and more weekend rides in favor of resting and relaxing. There were days that I didn't even want to touch the bike. What was going on, I always want to ride?! It wasn't long before I realized how much I needed a break. Eventually work subsided and I started thinking back. Crap, 2012 was a rough year for riding!
After an extremely solid start to the season, the first bump came in mid March. Markus Bohler's death in the Bethel Spring Series was certainly a shock to the amateur cycling ranks in the NE, let alone the fact that it happened only a mere handful of bike lengths behind me. After racing cars for over 8 years, I am certainly no stranger to the risks we take and the possible consequences...including death. Despite that, Markus' death seemed wrong, out of place. My teammate Jimmy Jung rode with me that day to and from the race and recently penned a nice article (as nice as could be given the subject) for Velonews that appeared in their December 2012 "danger" issue. Check it out if you get a chance (Velonews - A death in the family). Ironically, I had no idea how soon I would be facing my own brush with death. Less than two weeks later while riding through a green light on a glorious sunny Friday afternoon, I found myself at the business end of a full size work van with nowhere to go. I'll never forget the feeling of seeing that van moments before impact knowing I was about to get nailed and there was nothing I could do. I'll also never forget laying in bed that night, never more thankful to simply be alive...a scene that would repeat itself every night before going to sleep and every morning when I woke for over a week. As you read that it's easy to think "well sure, I'm thankful to be alive too" but that is to miss the point. Rarely do you ever experience such pure, perfect, and untarnished thankfulness for your own life until you come face to face with losing it. That was the first time I ever felt this so clearly and about my own life, a sobering realization of how different things could have been. Hopefully that's something most never have to experience. And while the physical injuries would heal and most of the pain would fade with time, the memories and emotional impact proved much more difficult to overcome than I ever imagined. The thankfulness, then anger, and finally depression far outlasted the physical damage to my body. With the patients, understanding, and support of my amazing wife along with family, friends, and teammates, I slowly dragged myself through my own process and started rebuilding my body for a second time in 2012. It took a while...actually, it took a looooong while but I started making progress. Getting back in the peloton was easy and comforting...even squeezed in a pack of 80 riders plummeting down a nearly 3 mile descents at 45+ mph on beat-up pavement. Getting back in the peloton was definitely an important step toward moving forward. Unfortunately the smackdowns I had to withstand were utterly demoralizing at times. I even quit moments before the start of stage 3 at the ToC, all kitted up and ready to go. And then a little while later I found Floyd Bennett Field. Who knew I'd rediscover my love of the bike and the race at an old, abandoned, pancake flat, windy airfield?! Racing so pure and gritty. And then a few weeks later my perseverance paid off with an amazing race back in the Catskills...mere miles from where I quit only a couple months earlier. You won't find my name anywhere near the top of the results but you will find my teammate's name in second after nearly winning. Miles from the finish line, I went deeper than I have in a long, long time. I suffered from a deep, dark place when no one else was willing or more likely able. A place that had eluded me, a place I sorely needed to visit. And I fought to stay there as long as I possibly could. I was angry, I was slaying demons, I was making things right...both in the race and deep down inside. I was also having the time of my life.
After that race, I competed in a couple more Floyd Bennett races with varying levels of success/failure that only that place can produce. But mostly, I was already coasting into the off season. 2012 was a tough season and now it's time to move on to 2013 and a fresh start. But this post isn't about 2013 so that will have to wait for another day. Until then, adios 2012!
After an extremely solid start to the season, the first bump came in mid March. Markus Bohler's death in the Bethel Spring Series was certainly a shock to the amateur cycling ranks in the NE, let alone the fact that it happened only a mere handful of bike lengths behind me. After racing cars for over 8 years, I am certainly no stranger to the risks we take and the possible consequences...including death. Despite that, Markus' death seemed wrong, out of place. My teammate Jimmy Jung rode with me that day to and from the race and recently penned a nice article (as nice as could be given the subject) for Velonews that appeared in their December 2012 "danger" issue. Check it out if you get a chance (Velonews - A death in the family). Ironically, I had no idea how soon I would be facing my own brush with death. Less than two weeks later while riding through a green light on a glorious sunny Friday afternoon, I found myself at the business end of a full size work van with nowhere to go. I'll never forget the feeling of seeing that van moments before impact knowing I was about to get nailed and there was nothing I could do. I'll also never forget laying in bed that night, never more thankful to simply be alive...a scene that would repeat itself every night before going to sleep and every morning when I woke for over a week. As you read that it's easy to think "well sure, I'm thankful to be alive too" but that is to miss the point. Rarely do you ever experience such pure, perfect, and untarnished thankfulness for your own life until you come face to face with losing it. That was the first time I ever felt this so clearly and about my own life, a sobering realization of how different things could have been. Hopefully that's something most never have to experience. And while the physical injuries would heal and most of the pain would fade with time, the memories and emotional impact proved much more difficult to overcome than I ever imagined. The thankfulness, then anger, and finally depression far outlasted the physical damage to my body. With the patients, understanding, and support of my amazing wife along with family, friends, and teammates, I slowly dragged myself through my own process and started rebuilding my body for a second time in 2012. It took a while...actually, it took a looooong while but I started making progress. Getting back in the peloton was easy and comforting...even squeezed in a pack of 80 riders plummeting down a nearly 3 mile descents at 45+ mph on beat-up pavement. Getting back in the peloton was definitely an important step toward moving forward. Unfortunately the smackdowns I had to withstand were utterly demoralizing at times. I even quit moments before the start of stage 3 at the ToC, all kitted up and ready to go. And then a little while later I found Floyd Bennett Field. Who knew I'd rediscover my love of the bike and the race at an old, abandoned, pancake flat, windy airfield?! Racing so pure and gritty. And then a few weeks later my perseverance paid off with an amazing race back in the Catskills...mere miles from where I quit only a couple months earlier. You won't find my name anywhere near the top of the results but you will find my teammate's name in second after nearly winning. Miles from the finish line, I went deeper than I have in a long, long time. I suffered from a deep, dark place when no one else was willing or more likely able. A place that had eluded me, a place I sorely needed to visit. And I fought to stay there as long as I possibly could. I was angry, I was slaying demons, I was making things right...both in the race and deep down inside. I was also having the time of my life.
After that race, I competed in a couple more Floyd Bennett races with varying levels of success/failure that only that place can produce. But mostly, I was already coasting into the off season. 2012 was a tough season and now it's time to move on to 2013 and a fresh start. But this post isn't about 2013 so that will have to wait for another day. Until then, adios 2012!
Friday, December 21, 2012
Sunday, October 28, 2012
Terrible NYC riding...
As seen on my ride today. Such terrible riding here in NYC. Sorry for the poor quality, Motorola needs to take a lesson from Apple on how to put a great camera in their smart phone. Actually, I should have taken a real camera with me.
Henry Hudson Drive - 9 miles of paradise right across the GWB
We have switchbacks too...except I'll get a ticket if I go right unfortunately :-(
Booooooo!
Very parkwayesque, too bad there's only a 1.2 mile "mountain" at the end!
Hudson River peeking through the trees
Headed up Alpine climb
Henry Hudson Bridge...gateway to northern Manhattan
Manhattan skyline and GWB pre-hurricane as seen from the water...
err, Ross Dock (soon to be under water!)
GWB peeking through the trees on my way home
So I survived the pre-hurricane wind for one last ride to enjoy the fall colors before the hurricane destroys Henry Hudson Drive (known as river road to the local cyclists) and blows down what's left of the leaves. Every time we get hit with a big storm, trees come down and there's usually a rock/mudslide or two closing the road for a couple weeks. It truly is an amazing 9 miles of riding.
Friday, September 28, 2012
Lucky 13 - Race #13
Three weekends ago, I headed upstate for the Hunter Mountain Fall Classic with Etsu, the FGX team director and racer. Heading into this race, my form was on an upswing and training was going well. That being said, the race was 78 miles, 2 laps around a 39 mile course and the one thing I was still lacking was long miles. Since I have been back to racing, I think I only have one 80 mile training ride. So needless to say, I was a little worried about the distance but my teammate Ira reassured me it wouldn't be a problem with all the descending. I wasn't convinced! The course started off with a short climb early in the lap followed by a long descent down to the river valley. We then headed up the river valley and hung a right on Route 42 for a long gradual slog back up toward Hunter, including another fast descent. We then turned onto 23A for the final false flat grinder back into town. Several teammates who rode the spring Hunter Spring Classic said the race was likely to end up in a field sprint for the win. Regardless, there was one final factor to consider...the weather. A massive storm front was closing in on eastern New York complete with all kinds of high wind, hail, and general severe weather warnings.
The race started under threatening skies as we headed toward the first climb. We crested the climb much quicker than I expected, partly due to our high speed along with the climb being shorter than I remembered. Once over the climb, I drifted to the back of the peloton for the first time down the descent to play it safe. The sharper corners toward the bottom of the descent ended up being a non-factor at speed making for a very non-technical descent. That being said, there were some beat up patches of asphalt on the right side to avoid. As we turned up the river valley, the rain started to fall every so gently, slowly building into a nice steady shower. I stayed tucked in at the back playing it conservative for the first lap, hopefully I could save enough energy to make the distance with something left in the tank. Numerous guys attacked and were reeled back as we made our way up the river valley and then back to hunter on Route 42. Four guys finally got away and the peloton was content to ease up a little. Unfortunately Etsu had a mechanical issue and dropped off on the gradual slog up Route 42 leaving Ira and me to do the honors for FGX in a field of 40-50 riders. As we passed by 15, 20, and 25 miles of race, it was clear that it was going to be a long day for me. My legs felt heavy and I was suffering but my power numbers were fine. I was beginning to worry that I wouldn't have the legs to make it to the end. The rain was proving a nice distraction however the shower passed as we neared 23A. After turning onto 23A heading back toward Hunter, Ira attacked hard to bridge up to the break. As the break turned onto Bridge Street in Hunter, I could see that Ira had closed the gap to the break to about 10 seconds. Unfortunately he never was able to completely close the gap and he drifted back to the peloton shortly before we hit the short climb at the beginning of the second lap. The wind was hammering anyone and everyone who dared sticking their nose out even the slightest bit on 23A and it took its toll on Ira. As we made our way up the climb I began to move toward the front as the breakaway completely disappeared from view. Despite Ira's best efforts attacking several times early on, covering other attacks, and attempting to bridge...he was still stuck in the peloton having missed the break that stuck. Watching him the first lap began to inspire me more and more. He was always perfectly positioned several riders back just out of the wind. After we crested the climb and began the descent, I told Ira to sit in and I was going to try to get a couple BH guys to work with me to close the gap to the breakaway. Warren, an acquaintance of mine on team BH was on the front and no one wanted to help. I told him I'd work with them to help close down the break and we got down to business. We hammered the second half of the descent as one or two other guys chipped into the chase. Heading up the river valley, the good work continued until some young guy sat up on the front. I had drifted back a bit with one of the BH guys to get a little rest. As soon as the pace slowed, we both looked at each other and immediately made our way back to the front on either side of the peloton. We lifted the pace back up only to have it drop again after our pulls. Frustrated, the BH guy attacked and I instinctively jumped his wheel and we were off the front. As I pulled through, he commented that maybe this will light a fire under their ass! Amazingly it worked. Several guys weren't very happy with us off the front and the pace rose sharply as they shut us down. Once we were caught, the pace remained steady and several guys were working with us again. I took a long pull onto Route 42 and kept the pace as high as I dared knowing the long gradual climb that was coming. Funny to be worried about a gradual climb but when shutting down a break for a teammate, you leave just enough in reserve to not get dropped until the job is done. On the way up, we caught a masters field and no shock, they mixed in with our field and wouldn't let us go. After cresting the second climb, we ripped down the short descent and I topped out just north of 53mph. At the bottom, there were a couple of attacks out of our field that I covered which ended up separating out the two fields finally. As we turned onto 23A, the remaining two guys in the break were just up the road and the peloton quickly began to shut it down as the break battled the fierce headwinds. By this point, I was pretty cooked and was hanging on near the back hiding from the wind as best I could...simply hoping to survive the last 7 miles. The peloton closed to within 10 seconds of the break and everyone sat up content that it was over. But it wasn't. I watched the break start to stretch the gap back out as one rider attacked and bridged up, breathing new life into the break. Before I knew it, they were over 30 seconds up the road and apparently the peloton was happy to race for fourth place. I moved forward as gaps were opening further back, trying to find more steady wheels to follow. Just then, Warren attacked and without a thought I jumped his wheel as we went shooting out the front. I had no intention of trying to get away because I was suffering pretty badly now, rather I just wanted to cover the move to protect Ira. I pulled through when Warren signaled and couldn't believe how strong the headwind was. My legs were cooked and I didn't have much before I eased up and a third guy pulled through. He wasn't much stronger and it quickly became apparent to Warren that this attack was going no where. At least we managed to close the gap to the break down a bit. I drifted back to around tenth wheel and was shocked to see everyone sitting up looking around as the break once again stretched the gap disappearing quickly up the road. Now I was pissed. How stupid can you be? I knew Ira was probably a bit tired and trying to conserve for the finish since he packs a good sprint so I didn't expect him to work. After watching Ira ride a great race, I was really annoyed with the stupid tactics playing out. My frustration finally boiled over and I started making my way to the front to do something about it. Unfortunately the top 6 or 7 guys had the entire lane blocked and I couldn't get through. Angry as hell at these idiots for doing nothing but looking around at each other as the race slips away, I yelled "get out of my way" as I sliced through a tight spot between two of the riders. I hit the front and drilled it for all I was worth. I took note of the gap to the break which was around 50-60 seconds, put my head down and sank into the pain completely focused. In two to three minutes of battling the headwind, I had cut the gap in half but I needed a break. I flicked my elbow and amazingly someone pulled through...and then slowly eased off the pace not wanting to work too hard. After a minute or two of rest and even more annoyed, I drove to the front again and buried myself one final time. I knew this was it as we entered the outskirts of Hunter. If I didn't get the peloton close enough, no one else was going to work and the race was over. I sank deeper into the drops with my head slightly down focusing on turning the legs over as hard and as long as I could. My legs were searing with pain but I kept going. A quick glance at my power confirmed there was still something left as I hovered just over 300 watts. Everything began to blur except for my focus on putting as much pressure on the pedals as possible. It seemed like an eternity went by as I drilled the front and then I saw the parked cop car ahead and lifted my head as we approached Bridge Street...and there was the break! I turned onto Bridge Street using every bit of the road so as to carry as much speed as possible. I rose out of the saddle and accelerated with everything I had left and counted down the gap. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5...6 seconds! Despite the burning of my legs, I hammered into the small rise after we crossed the river and pulled off to the far right and exploded, completely slouched over the bars...done. I sensed the peloton flying by on my left as we rounded the final turn heading for the finish. I tried desperately to grab onto the back of the peloton and did so briefly until they accelerated. At 1K to go, I was spit out the back and didn't even care. My job was done. At 500M to go, I completely sat up craning my neck for a view of the sprint. I saw Ira's white jersey go shooting out of the front as I pumped my fist in the air and yelled "GO!" As the Peloton neared the line, I could no longer see what was going on and slowly pedaled in. I crossed the line as Etsu and several of our 4's cheered me on. I made my way up to Ira as he turned around to come back. He had finished second, frustrated for mistiming his sprint. Regardless, we were both ecstatic with the result and teamwork. We pulled off to the side and talked with our teammates and a few other guys from our race, including the guy who bridged up to the break and almost won the race...had it not been for me. Had I not taken those last two pulls, the break would have easily made it to the finish. They were caught just inside of 500M to go. The best part was rolling in off the back watching Ira go shooting out of the peloton for the sprint finish. What a great feeling. He deserved the shot at the win and he delivered with a great finish. I was just happy I had something left to give him the shot at the win...especially after the race he rode. Although I'm still not sure where it came from considering I was hanging on the back hoping to survive with 7 miles to go haha!
I received a lot of nice compliments from Ira and many other teammates. For me, the satisfaction came from finally being competitive again. Ira deserves all the credit for the race, he rode so smart the entire way and was super strong, taking chances to force the race in his favor. Additionally, he always commented after my pulls "good job" or "nice work." It was a great feeling to ride competitively and be able to impact the outcome of the race once again. It has been a very long road back with many days of doubt and second guessing. But lucky race #13 proved I was back. After the suffering and pain subsided, I reflected on my born again love of racing. I can't wait to get back out there!
Saturday morning we awoke to partly sunny skies, lots of wind, and cool temperatures. We packed up and drove to the start area right down the road. I debated wearing arm warmers and was a bit concerned with the possibility of rain and dropping temperatures in the mountains. After my warm-up, I ended up going with just a jersey and shorts hoping for the best weather wise. I lined up with two teammates, Etsu and Ira. Much like me, Etsu is on the come back trail having suffered from a nasty infection which knocked him out for the middle part of the season. Ira on the other hand has been on a tear this season and is super strong not to mention a very smart racer. It was an easy decision who we were working for.
The race started under threatening skies as we headed toward the first climb. We crested the climb much quicker than I expected, partly due to our high speed along with the climb being shorter than I remembered. Once over the climb, I drifted to the back of the peloton for the first time down the descent to play it safe. The sharper corners toward the bottom of the descent ended up being a non-factor at speed making for a very non-technical descent. That being said, there were some beat up patches of asphalt on the right side to avoid. As we turned up the river valley, the rain started to fall every so gently, slowly building into a nice steady shower. I stayed tucked in at the back playing it conservative for the first lap, hopefully I could save enough energy to make the distance with something left in the tank. Numerous guys attacked and were reeled back as we made our way up the river valley and then back to hunter on Route 42. Four guys finally got away and the peloton was content to ease up a little. Unfortunately Etsu had a mechanical issue and dropped off on the gradual slog up Route 42 leaving Ira and me to do the honors for FGX in a field of 40-50 riders. As we passed by 15, 20, and 25 miles of race, it was clear that it was going to be a long day for me. My legs felt heavy and I was suffering but my power numbers were fine. I was beginning to worry that I wouldn't have the legs to make it to the end. The rain was proving a nice distraction however the shower passed as we neared 23A. After turning onto 23A heading back toward Hunter, Ira attacked hard to bridge up to the break. As the break turned onto Bridge Street in Hunter, I could see that Ira had closed the gap to the break to about 10 seconds. Unfortunately he never was able to completely close the gap and he drifted back to the peloton shortly before we hit the short climb at the beginning of the second lap. The wind was hammering anyone and everyone who dared sticking their nose out even the slightest bit on 23A and it took its toll on Ira. As we made our way up the climb I began to move toward the front as the breakaway completely disappeared from view. Despite Ira's best efforts attacking several times early on, covering other attacks, and attempting to bridge...he was still stuck in the peloton having missed the break that stuck. Watching him the first lap began to inspire me more and more. He was always perfectly positioned several riders back just out of the wind. After we crested the climb and began the descent, I told Ira to sit in and I was going to try to get a couple BH guys to work with me to close the gap to the breakaway. Warren, an acquaintance of mine on team BH was on the front and no one wanted to help. I told him I'd work with them to help close down the break and we got down to business. We hammered the second half of the descent as one or two other guys chipped into the chase. Heading up the river valley, the good work continued until some young guy sat up on the front. I had drifted back a bit with one of the BH guys to get a little rest. As soon as the pace slowed, we both looked at each other and immediately made our way back to the front on either side of the peloton. We lifted the pace back up only to have it drop again after our pulls. Frustrated, the BH guy attacked and I instinctively jumped his wheel and we were off the front. As I pulled through, he commented that maybe this will light a fire under their ass! Amazingly it worked. Several guys weren't very happy with us off the front and the pace rose sharply as they shut us down. Once we were caught, the pace remained steady and several guys were working with us again. I took a long pull onto Route 42 and kept the pace as high as I dared knowing the long gradual climb that was coming. Funny to be worried about a gradual climb but when shutting down a break for a teammate, you leave just enough in reserve to not get dropped until the job is done. On the way up, we caught a masters field and no shock, they mixed in with our field and wouldn't let us go. After cresting the second climb, we ripped down the short descent and I topped out just north of 53mph. At the bottom, there were a couple of attacks out of our field that I covered which ended up separating out the two fields finally. As we turned onto 23A, the remaining two guys in the break were just up the road and the peloton quickly began to shut it down as the break battled the fierce headwinds. By this point, I was pretty cooked and was hanging on near the back hiding from the wind as best I could...simply hoping to survive the last 7 miles. The peloton closed to within 10 seconds of the break and everyone sat up content that it was over. But it wasn't. I watched the break start to stretch the gap back out as one rider attacked and bridged up, breathing new life into the break. Before I knew it, they were over 30 seconds up the road and apparently the peloton was happy to race for fourth place. I moved forward as gaps were opening further back, trying to find more steady wheels to follow. Just then, Warren attacked and without a thought I jumped his wheel as we went shooting out the front. I had no intention of trying to get away because I was suffering pretty badly now, rather I just wanted to cover the move to protect Ira. I pulled through when Warren signaled and couldn't believe how strong the headwind was. My legs were cooked and I didn't have much before I eased up and a third guy pulled through. He wasn't much stronger and it quickly became apparent to Warren that this attack was going no where. At least we managed to close the gap to the break down a bit. I drifted back to around tenth wheel and was shocked to see everyone sitting up looking around as the break once again stretched the gap disappearing quickly up the road. Now I was pissed. How stupid can you be? I knew Ira was probably a bit tired and trying to conserve for the finish since he packs a good sprint so I didn't expect him to work. After watching Ira ride a great race, I was really annoyed with the stupid tactics playing out. My frustration finally boiled over and I started making my way to the front to do something about it. Unfortunately the top 6 or 7 guys had the entire lane blocked and I couldn't get through. Angry as hell at these idiots for doing nothing but looking around at each other as the race slips away, I yelled "get out of my way" as I sliced through a tight spot between two of the riders. I hit the front and drilled it for all I was worth. I took note of the gap to the break which was around 50-60 seconds, put my head down and sank into the pain completely focused. In two to three minutes of battling the headwind, I had cut the gap in half but I needed a break. I flicked my elbow and amazingly someone pulled through...and then slowly eased off the pace not wanting to work too hard. After a minute or two of rest and even more annoyed, I drove to the front again and buried myself one final time. I knew this was it as we entered the outskirts of Hunter. If I didn't get the peloton close enough, no one else was going to work and the race was over. I sank deeper into the drops with my head slightly down focusing on turning the legs over as hard and as long as I could. My legs were searing with pain but I kept going. A quick glance at my power confirmed there was still something left as I hovered just over 300 watts. Everything began to blur except for my focus on putting as much pressure on the pedals as possible. It seemed like an eternity went by as I drilled the front and then I saw the parked cop car ahead and lifted my head as we approached Bridge Street...and there was the break! I turned onto Bridge Street using every bit of the road so as to carry as much speed as possible. I rose out of the saddle and accelerated with everything I had left and counted down the gap. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5...6 seconds! Despite the burning of my legs, I hammered into the small rise after we crossed the river and pulled off to the far right and exploded, completely slouched over the bars...done. I sensed the peloton flying by on my left as we rounded the final turn heading for the finish. I tried desperately to grab onto the back of the peloton and did so briefly until they accelerated. At 1K to go, I was spit out the back and didn't even care. My job was done. At 500M to go, I completely sat up craning my neck for a view of the sprint. I saw Ira's white jersey go shooting out of the front as I pumped my fist in the air and yelled "GO!" As the Peloton neared the line, I could no longer see what was going on and slowly pedaled in. I crossed the line as Etsu and several of our 4's cheered me on. I made my way up to Ira as he turned around to come back. He had finished second, frustrated for mistiming his sprint. Regardless, we were both ecstatic with the result and teamwork. We pulled off to the side and talked with our teammates and a few other guys from our race, including the guy who bridged up to the break and almost won the race...had it not been for me. Had I not taken those last two pulls, the break would have easily made it to the finish. They were caught just inside of 500M to go. The best part was rolling in off the back watching Ira go shooting out of the peloton for the sprint finish. What a great feeling. He deserved the shot at the win and he delivered with a great finish. I was just happy I had something left to give him the shot at the win...especially after the race he rode. Although I'm still not sure where it came from considering I was hanging on the back hoping to survive with 7 miles to go haha!
I received a lot of nice compliments from Ira and many other teammates. For me, the satisfaction came from finally being competitive again. Ira deserves all the credit for the race, he rode so smart the entire way and was super strong, taking chances to force the race in his favor. Additionally, he always commented after my pulls "good job" or "nice work." It was a great feeling to ride competitively and be able to impact the outcome of the race once again. It has been a very long road back with many days of doubt and second guessing. But lucky race #13 proved I was back. After the suffering and pain subsided, I reflected on my born again love of racing. I can't wait to get back out there!
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