Tuesday, May 29, 2018


     Actually, it is more like a correction than a contradiction.  Recently I wrote that anytime you are cycling you are having fun.  That isn't necessarily true.  My friend Byran has a defintion:  Anytime you come back from a ride and nothing is broken, then you had fun.  But I've had several rides that fit that definition and definitely were not fun.
     2011 was THE year.  The one where I came off the tracks, so to speak.  The one that sticks in my mind the most is the no-longer Walburg ride.  It used to be a well-attended kick-off to the road racing season and folks would race Walburg on Saturday and Pace Bend on Sunday.  That sounded good to me, so I sorta trained up for it (did some mileage) and entered.  Several things were against me.  The age group was 60+ and I was 68.  See previous post about age categories.  The course was two twenty-four mile loops.  Well, I could ride forty-eight miles but racing them was another story.
     In any case, I got behind in the neutral ride up to the rolling start line and the guys in the front lit it up, accelerating before the line and going full gas from the get-go.  Down the hill, turn right, turn right, go uphill.  I was behind some guys who let a gap form on the uphill and I never could catch back on.  I'm sure three of us carried on for awhile, but my recollection of this ride is that I did a lap and a half by myself.  About five miles from the end I was told I was the last rider and would I like to just sag in.  I knew there were two or three behind me, so I said no.  Besides, I was fuming at the organizers for having us old guys do long mileage.  It may have been misplaced anger.  Oh, the the guys behind me actually dropped out on the first lap, so I was indeed last coming in at two hours thirty-seven minutes.  So, yes, this ride was not fun.
     To top it off, I had foolishly signed up for Pace Bend.  I showed up Sunday and prepared to race.  The start line was about twenty yards ahead of where I thought it was, so once again I found myself in the back.  Then I misplaced my foot and wasted two seconds getting clipped in.  Again, the young guys jumped off the front.  I chased for about a mile up and down the hills.  At the end of the first lap, I gave the hand-to-throat signal to the timer and called it a day.  Another day of non-fun on the bike.
     But stupidity didn't stop there.  Perhaps I should call it experimenting rather than stupidity.  The following week I was in Mineral Wells for a time trial, road race, and criterium.  I did two criteriums before giving up on them.  Once again, the age group was 60+.  Once again I managed to get behind a rider who couldn't hold a wheel.  I wasn't all that far behind, but got pulled after two miles.  That wasn't fun.
     Later, same year, my friend Tom enticed me to enter the Tour of Austin, another crit.  I managed a fourth place finish but again was stewing.  As opposed to Mineral Wells, this was a little more laid back, to the extent that the third place guy had a "mechanical" with two laps to go and was allowed to sit out a lap and jump back on.  He was behind me when he stopped and ahead when he started up again.  I was gassed, and pissed.
     But time heals all wounds.  I gave Walburg another chance.  Didn't let the front get away from me at the start, hung with them the first two hills.  Did the rest by myself.  Again (two hours, forty-two minutes).  At least this year I didn't sign up for Pace Bend.  By the way, you know all the gorgeous pictures of the very pretty CD4 that get posted?  I'm pretty sure this is the year someone got her with a frightening snarl as she wound it up for the finish line at Walburg.  That, too, sticks in my mind.
     I've ridden the Walburg roads by myself and others and had lots of fun.  Racing by yourself is not.  Somewhere in the archives I've written about some others, specifically when I've hit the ground (two involved vehicles).  So there you have it, years of cycling and only a handful of not-fun rides.    May your future be as bright.

Monday, May 28, 2018


     A few days ago my friend, Dani, posted on FB about a conversation (she used the word "interaction" which connotes a slightly different encounter) with someone from the cycling community.  It was at The Driveway while watching a criterium race, so I'm also assuming it was someone who raced.  Now Dani has only been involved in cycling for three years, but it has been an impressive three years.  That's her story and not the topic for this entry.  But this person informed her that they would not encourage or help anyone to start cycling, especially women, because there were already too many cyclists.  Boy, did her post get lots of comments. 
     But my post is taking the devil's advocate position.  Too many times, when I was trying to make a point that sounded great in my head, what came out of my mouth was totally asinine.  For the sake of argument, maybe the brain was thinking "racing" but the mouth mis-interpreted.  Of course,  even that is a stupid thing to say, but it is a segue.
     Some of the races at The Driveway have upwards of seventy competitors.  Probably only a half-dozen have a real chance to win, so why are the other sixty-plus folks racing?  Well duh, it's because they like to race!  Maybe they're racing to make top-twenty, which gets them recognition (the rest get nothing).  Maybe this race is just a hard work-out for other cycling activities and placement doesn't matter.  Maybe it's practice riding fast in a group.  So, if this person is desirous of making top twenty, but is only a fifty percentile racer, then they would benefit if only forty people raced.
     Or, perhaps they were a good actor and was really just jerking Dani's leg.  I've met a person like that, and it wasn't until a mutual acquaintance clued me in that he "spun tales" did I stop believing anything he said.  Then again, maybe the person is just a jerk.
     Actually, just recently I had a similar thought.  Not about discouraging anyone from cycling, but too many cyclists.  It was at a Shoal Roll several weeks back.  There were about twenty-five riders, which is great for a parade but causes even laid-back motorists some agitation.  Fortunately we broke into several manageable groups and came back together at the finish (sort of, the faster folks having a longish wait).
     If you do charity rides, maybe you have had unkind thoughts run through your mind about unskilled cyclists who are really dangerous to be around.  I still remember one lady who stopped and  fell over in front of a vehicle while going up a slight incline.  Even worse is the strong, fast rider who changes lines and darts in and out without regard to those around him.  We must remember that charity rides bring out charitable people who want to challenge themselves while contributing something to the cause.  Judge not lest you be judged.  I dislike a snob of any sort, but especially a cycling snob.
     Of course, if you really want to see "too many cyclists" take a trip to Amsterdam.  Everybody is a cyclist.  On a recent trip to London I was surprised at the large number of cycling commuters.  In either city it is a grave mistake to walk in a bike lane.  Sadly, Austin is a long way from that worry.  Meanwhile, I'll do what I can to encourage folks to get into their exercise of choice, and if it's cycling, so much the better.

Sunday, May 20, 2018


     The races have been held in Hempstead for the last five years.  Since I'm familiar with the course and like to sleep in my own bed, I've taken to just driving down, do the race, drive home, repeat on Sunday for the team time trial.
     I set the alarm for 3:30am and plan to have breakfast and leave no later than 4:30.  It is a two hour drive.  With a start time of 7:40,  I worked backwards from that giving myself thirty minutes of warm-up plus ten minutes of fudge-factor in addition to packet pick-up etc..  I hardly ever need an alarm and Saturday morning was no different.  My eyes flew open at 2:45, wide awake.  Pook!  Had I gone to sleep at 8:45 instead of 10:45, that wouldn't have been so bad.  As it was, I had plenty of time for a leisurely breakfast and a non-scheduled shower and still leave at 4:15.  Unsurprisingly, there were only a handful of cars on the road.
     Ten years ago, when I first acquired my Felt B-2 time trial bike, I left it in the car while I warmed-up on my road bike.  When I dragged it out to race it created quite a stir.  Besides the surprise factor, this eliminates getting a flat right before you start.  This is now part of my routine.
     My warm-up didn't go well.  I had the devil of a time getting my heart-rate up and my quads were telling me they wanted an hour before being ready to race.  About twenty minutes of riding and the HR finally topped 110 and started moving into zone three, topping out at 135.  The legs were tepid at best.  Neither boded well for a good race.  Plus, we had the wind in our face on the outward leg.
     I switched bikes, went potty one more time, strapped on the aero helmet, and checked in at the start line.  On schedule, so I had one more warm-up loop to make before getting in line.  As last year's winner I had the privilege of going last.
     Richard can beat me like a drum in a road race, but hasn't concentrated on time trials.  Bob and I are closer in abilities, but he is definitely the stronger.  Just not in the time trial.  I've written about Fred lots of times, another strong road racer but not a time trialist.
     My strategy was pretty simple: higher cadence, lighter gear on the way out and higher gear on the way back.  I followed the strategy, but envisioned 90+ as my high cadence and 85 as a low.  Turns out I was closer to 85 out and 80 back, with a fair amount of time in the 70's.  But the speed was good.  I did a lot of gear shifting although I don't think I used more than three gears after the start.  It took about a minute for my HR to reach 140, but the average of 148 with a top of 153 indicates I held 90% of max for thirty-one of the thirty-three and a half minutes of the race.  Ah the legs.  I pampered them for maybe ten minutes before applying power.  They were much happier when we hit the turn-around.
     I had no idea how I was doing compared to the others.  I caught Fred, my one-minute man, before the turn, but was too busy fighting the wind to see if I made up any time on the others.  Truthfully, I figured I'd earned third place.  But there is one spot in the race I thought I could make up time.  At about the 10.5 mile mark, right after an intersection, the road turns up, just topping at 3.3%.  Rather than fight to hold speed, I took it easy and gathered myself for a last push.  Once on flat road my speed picked up, HR held steady with just a beat or two tick upwards, cadence was steady until the finish line was in sight.  A classic finish, top speed and cadence.
     I took about a ten minute cool down, got everything back in the car, re-hydrated, then waited for the awards ceremony.  The hour and a half or so wait allowed us old guys to stand around and talk.  The younger age categories have new people coming in, but us old guys rarely see a newcomer.  Therefore, we all know each other.  Richard and Bob had to be introduced to each other, but I'd known each of them for several years.  Bob had gone online and found out I'd won, with him second and Richard third.  That was a pleasant surprise.
          Medals in hand (this is a race within a race, so we got two medals), I retreated to the car, drove home and prepared to do it again on Sunday.  First we start with attitude.  The Sunday team time trial had us up against the young guys: 70+ rather than 75+.  There were two teams of these guys and all six of them posted times faster than me.  The only other team was comprised of beginners.  Therefore, we were pretty much assured of third place no matter what our effort.
     Speaking of beginners, my team had verteran Dean and Bob.  Dean is 79 and Bob had never done a team time trial before.  We went over a few basics, but let him learn on the job.  Our start time of 8:28 at least let me sleep in.  Warm-up went well.  We had no incidents, fought the wind on the way out and cruised on the way back.  We dropped Dean with a couple of miles to go, and Bob had to lead me in the last mile.  Yesterday had caught up with me.  We weren't close to second and fourth was a distant fourth.
     I have a few weeks before Nationals.

Thursday, May 17, 2018


     If you clicked on this thinking it described idyllic, gentle cycling in bucolic, scenic settings you've come to the wrong place.  For that you should check out Bicycle Journeys with Jerry or Gotta Go! Cycling Vacations in Fantastic Locations.  No, this is primarily about going fast in age-category races.
     We do what we can to fight off the effects of aging but there is no denying that young folks are faster and stronger.  Yes, USA Cycling has a 35+ Masters Division, but for us old guys that is laughable.  I'm talking about 50 and up.  Which is why I like Senior Games.  They have five-year age categories.  There are a few other races where the organizers have ten-year categories, like 50+ and 60+ and that at least narrows the field to a more manageable size.  But unless you are super strong, if you are in the upper age range you are just in it for the exercise.  The exceptions that I know off the top of my head are Fred Schmid of Waco, Durward Higgins of Chattanooga,  Deb Barton of College Station and Linda Margraf of Fort Worth.  This post isn't about them.
     Generally speaking, and especially after 65, you are competitive the first two years of your age group, maybe competitive in the third year, and hopeful in the last two years.  Being in your last year brings joy that you are getting older and that next year you move up to a new category.  Senior Games Nationals are every two years, so if you manage to qualify (top four) at, for instance, age 74, then you will be the youngest (75-79) when you race Nationals. That worked well for me in the time trial. USAC Nationals is every year and there isn't any qualifier.  I guess they figure if you have the courage to show up, then you won't embarrass yourself.  This is my first year to attend.  I was unaware that they had five-year categories until too late last year.
     The title suggests having fun.  Anytime you are on the bike you should be having fun, but training and racing are a different "fun" than just tooling around.  In previous posts I've expressed my chagrin at finishing last in a road race.  And I repeat, there is no shame in being last, someone is for every race.  But for me it was a wake-up call that something was wrong and changes needed to be made.  Therefore, for the last two years there has been less of one type of fun and more of the other.  I'm almost to where I think I should be.  Ah, but that's the rub.
     As a result of my success at being stronger and faster (plus getting older), my definition of "fun" has widened.  Whereas before I eschewed criteriums because their age grouping stopped at 60+, thus leaving me to be pulled from the race before I even worked up a sweat (a serious waste of money), I'm now thinking maybe I can hang around until at least halfway through.  Or find races that are a little more lenient.  Mountain biking and Cyclocross have also crossed my mind.  Gravel grinding is a distinct possibility.
     I haven't given up cycling vacations.  They are an integral part of staying in shape, especially if mountains are involved.  In one previous post I demonstrated (somewhat facetiously) that guys who raced and took cycling vacations placed higher in their races than those who did not.  So stay tuned as to what sort of trouble I can get myself into.

Saturday, May 5, 2018


     My friend, Dan, posted a lament (comment, observation, whatever) yesterday about racing as he approaches 50.  The gist of his content was that he is new to cycling, six years, and is racing against guys who have been doing it for decades.  Each year he is getting stronger, faster, and feeling better than he did when in high school and college.  When will he hit his peak and will he know it? I gave him a short answer but immediately knew I'd be posting a rambling blog to cover the topic.
     I'll answer his last question first: yes, you will know when you have peaked.  There will be several peaks.   What you do is fight off the initial peak, the subsequent peaks, and then gracefully accept the final peak.
     Let's flesh out the strength part.  There is a reason very few pro cyclists race after 40, and many after 35.  They don't have the strength to compete against youngsters.  Not that they are slow as compared to us mortals, they're just not fast enough to hang with the peloton.  So, Dan, apples to apples, that train has already left the station.  Yes, you are faster than a lot of young guys, but that isn't apples to apples.  You are stronger and faster than you were in college because you are training more, and developing your cardio vascular system better (and probably have a much better diet).
     Cardio is key.  I have a mantra: trust your muscles, protect your heart (which includes lungs).   That is, assuming you have trained properly, you can over-work your legs in a race and they will forgive you, but if you over-work your heart it doesn't matter how much leg strength you have left.  Ergo, cardio should be the last thing you push over the edge in a race.  You told me the other day about how Zwift really pushes you to be better.  That's a really good cardio workout.
     Experience counts.  Here, you are behind the curve, but probably not as much as you think.  Being cerebral, you have already picked up on most of the nuances in racing.  Each race will give you a new insight.
     Ah, training.  Let me digress into my own history.  When I first started racing, it was merely something to do when I wasn't off on a cycling vacation.  There were only a few races per year.  After the first year I started getting medals, tokens of my improvement.  I concentrated on time trials and just did road races for training.  Continued podiums kept me looking for more ways to get better.  I went to the gym in the off season and worked on my legs.  Then, two years ago I finished last.  I had seen the signs coming but ignored them (see previous posts).  Something had to change.  I changed my diet.  Immediate improvement.
     After last year's Senior Games Nationals, I decided I wanted to branch out and also do road racing.  But for that, I needed to get better.  Enter a coach.  I no longer go to the gym.  He had me doing drills that instantly improved my strength, cardio, and confidence.  One more thing: equipment.  I also acquired a really fast, new bike.
     About your bell curve, the shape really is a quick (relatively) ascent to the peak, then a gradual descent.  Let's talk about peaks, which is really just a recap.  When you feel you have peaked it is time to see what you can do to get faster.  A new bike?  Gears?  Change your training?  Get a coach?  When all else has been done, then accept the inevitable gracefully.  BTW, it has been eight years since I realized I'd peaked.  But that didn't mean I stopped trying to get better.
     One last thing, I didn't know where to put this.  You have picked a healthy lifestyle that will keep you healthy.  Many folks blame getting older for lots of their ailments and lack of energy.  You are maybe fifteen years removed from that, but if something is wrong with how your body is working, look for a reason other than age.

Sunday, April 22, 2018


     On Sunday mornings the Bicycle Sport Shop Lamar location is quite busy.  At 8:00 the Effort Ride (38ish miles, about 16 mph,  not a no-drop ride but with several regrouping spots and usually a refreshment stop) and the Beginner/Recovery Ride (25 miles at around 12 mph or the pace of the slowest rider) depart.  But at 7:30ish the All Business Ride (ABR) leaves.
    As the name implies, this ride is all business.  Still, it isn't a race where the riders are going all out.  Rather, it is a fast-paced group ride.  Neophytes are discouraged (or maybe just told to find another ride, I really don't know).
     What with my training and new bike, and the desire to get just a little bit faster before going to Nationals in June, I thought I'd see if I could hang with these guys (and ladies).  It's not like this wild idea came out of the blue.  Last week's 40k road race at Senior Games State Championships had me going for 24 miles and averaging 18.8 mph.  And with this group I could draft the whole way.  It was worth a shot, so I dutifully reported at 7:15 and prepared to ride.
     The route took us east through Austin and toward Manor, on Manor Road actually.  The multiple red lights gave me opportunity to warm up, practice my starts and clipping in, experiment with gears.  Going up Chicon was a bit of a challenge, but we weren't pushing the pace, just going uphill.  I had a clue then, but didn't pick up on it immediately.  My heart rate (HR) was 144 when it should have been 130-132.  But Chicon is a series of inclines and a couple of red lights and the HR dropped back down.  Then went back up.  Once on Manor Road we opened it up a bit and I had no problem sticking in line.  But after passing Airport we had a few climbs and the HR was over 150 on each one.  For the record, my max HR is 165, so anything over 150 should have had me using lots of energy, not the mild exertion I was doing.   At a light or going downhill it should have dropped in the 110 range but it stayed over 120.   Any little increase would push it up over 140 when it should have been under 130.  At the forty-eight minute mark I pulled the plug (told Dan of my difficulties and I'd be turning around).
     This has happened to me before on several BSS rides (See my July 25, 2017 post for the most recent).  I haven't been able to zero in on a cause, but I can say on Saturday I was a total couch potato.  In any case, once I turned around and had the wind at my back I just started cruising.  Still, it took a good fifteen minutes before the HR started showing any semblance of normalcy.  Interestingly enough, the relaxed time back was only two minutes longer than going out.  I had very few red lights coming back.
      Up until I turned around I had no difficulty staying with the group.  But drafting is a very important element and I took full advantage.  At one time Dan dropped back and in doing so gave an example of proper drafting.  So, unless they tell me to find another ride, they can expect me to give it another go.

Monday, April 16, 2018


     I've raced this course, Texas Research Park, since 2005.  Feel free to browse past posts where I recount epic battles.  But if you eschew that, a brief history: I take the two hour drive down, race, return home, and drive back the next day.  The course is a two and a half mile loop with a real long upgrade on the back-side.  Until recently the loop was for University of Texas Medical Research buildings and a few residences (I think for employees).  On the week-ends it was traffic-free, making an ideal location.  Sub-divisions have crept in and lots of houses going up, so this year we didn't have the loop to ourselves.  That resulted in some race changes, more on that later.
     In the past I've rolled out of bed at 5:00 am and was on the road at 6:00 and ready to race at 9:00.  This year Marilane's departure to China/Tibet coincided with the race, so I dragged my body out of bed at 2:37 am and left for the airport at 3:05. Apparently we just missed a hail storm.  Even stopping for breakfast at Whataburger, I drove into the parking lot at 6:00.  Tried to nap but that didn't happen.
     What did happen was a cold front, with a stout NNW wind.  That meant a head-wind going up the back-side hill.  The temperature wasn't all that bad, but the wind made things uncomfortable.  Around 8:00 I began warming up in tights and my rain jacket, since I hadn't brought my cold-weather jacket.  The 10k Time Trial came first, to be followed by the 20k road race shortly after the end of the time trial.  I managed to also leave my Garmin at home, so there is zero data for Saturday's races.
     In previous iterations the 10k consisted of one full loop, then half-way around and back to the finish line.  The construction and traffic constrained us to two loops then a short loop to keep us off the back-side road.  Time trials with multiple U-turns are intensely disliked.  I doffed the rain jacket but kept the tights on for the race.  The longer time trials are my specialty, so to speak, and I usually come in first.  But the wind on the hill had me dropping to the small chain ring, and having to do it twice really cut into my time, like about a minute slower than previous years.  As it turned out, I was eight seconds out of first to my soon-to-be team time trial partner, Bob.
     After the race I went back to the car, switched out bikes and jerseys, then sat in the front seat and re-hydrated and ate a Clif bar.  There were only five of us (in our age group) doing the road race.  Unlike Dallas, the two strongest racers had not shown up.  Had they been there, they would have left us on the hill to battle for third.  As it was, the strong wind meant there would be no breakaway.
     A short aside.  In USA Cycling rules, riders may not join a different group.  But Senior Games is more relaxed and has devolved into being able to tag onto whoever you can.  Thus, when a faster group passes, if you have the speed, you can draft along with them.  They don't care since you are no threat to them.  The slower riders in your group care, since you can leave them behind. 
       Now, we were just noodling along with the intention of trading off leading and Jaime was the fastest, Bob was the strongest, Dean the most experienced.  But no one that much stronger to be able to leave the rest behind.  So, we just took our time waiting for the final sprint.  As it turned out, on the second of five laps, a group of three younger females who started behind us came by.  But Bob, who was leading at the time jumped onto their train and sat on.  The rest of us did the same.  Truthfully, I feel we abused the ladies and should have let them go, but I wasn't the one who did it.  They led us around for the rest of the race.
     We rounded a corner about 800 meters from the finish.  The wind was behind us.  The ladies jumped, Jaime and Bob jumped, and I was third.  With about fifty yards to go I accelerated and had a clear line to the finish.  Jaime and Bob paid for hanging with the ladies and had traffic.  I came in first by a couple of bike lengths.  My new bike really makes a difference. 
     After the awards I drove home and prepared for the next day.  My start time for Sunday was 9:57:30 am.  No need to get there early, so I slept in until 5:00.  The 38 degree temperature insured I packed my cold weather jacket.  Today would start chilly but with only a light wind and a clear sky.  In San Antonio at 8:00 the temperature had already climbed to the low 50's and would be low 60's by my race time, the 5k time trial.  I warmed up in tights and jacket, but determined I would go with just arm warmers for the race and had switched out, leaving the tights on until just before starting.
     But about 9:30 I wandered up to the start line (about a quarter mile away from the car), to see how things were progressing.  It seems the start times were thrown out the window, and the director asked if I were doing the time trial (about half the folks on bikes were just warming up for the 40k road race), and when I said yes, she said get in line.  Only four folks ahead of me.  We were being chip timed, and the computer could sort everything out, but this was disconcerting to say the least.  So I raced with tights on.
     Much better than yesterday.  We were able to do an out-and-back course, three-quarters up the hill.  Without the wind in my face, I did it in the big ring and kept a good, steady pace, and after the turn-around was able to boost the speed up to 30.8.  I pushed through the finish and did a quick cool down and went back to the car.  Because I was unsure of when the road race started, I wanted to get the bike set up before resting/refueling.  Leaving the computer at home yesterday made switching bikes easy, just pull it out of the car and transfer the number/chip.  If I wanted data today, I'd have to change out the Stages power meter.  I was just finishing up that chore when the race director came into the parking lot calling for 88 (that's me).  She was in a panic, in that the computer did not register my finishing.  Pook!
     My guardian angel was really looking after me.  What with the crazy start, I hadn't done my usual thing with the computer of starting it ten seconds before my time.  Instead, just before he said "go" I hit the button.  And, rather than take a few breaths before hitting the stop button after finishing, I hit it immediately.  So, I pulled up my results and we subtracted 1.7 seconds to round it off at 9:43.  Bob finished at 9:48.  I just looked at Garmin Connect and it has my moving time at 9:41.  It also has the length at 3.4 miles.  My average speed of 21.1 mph is 1.3 mph faster than last year.
     That crisis attended to, I prepared to stretch and relax.  Then came the announcement the races would start at 10:45, not 11:00, about a half hour away.  Still, no rush, plenty of time.  I went to the bathroom, rode around on the bike to make sure it and me were operational, and came back to the car. Ate a Clif bar, had water, IsoPure protein drink, pickle juice.  I've been 98% decaffeinated for years.  But I had a package of caffeine Gu in the car for energy emergencies.  I felt it necessary to use it.  Directions indicate take 15 minutes before your start.  I dutifully followed directions, including taking water after, and diddled around a bit before heading to the start line.
     Then came the announcement.  The race would be delayed.  It seemed a small plane had crashed in a nearby field.  Emergency vehicles would be coming and wanted the road clear.  About an hour later we were given the all-clear.  So much for last-minute pre-race preparations.
     Another aside: I dislike wheel-suckers.  You know, those guys who sit on for the whole race, then unleash their sprint.  I understand this is a race and tactics are part of winning.  But really, we are just a bunch of old guys having fun.  We know each other (most of the time), have a pecking order, and while competitive, are mostly gentlemanly about it.  I don't necessarily dislike those who only show up for the 40k race.  As a matter of fact, until recently I did the time trials and 40k, but skipped the 20k so I'd have decent legs.  But I would also take my turn at the front.  Hey, when you lead the group, you can go at your own speed and they can either draft or take it away from you.  If you show up for only the 40k and refuse to help out, I have a dislike.
     We had such a guy for our race.  He did the same in Dallas.  There, about half way through, he was last of five guys, with me in fourth.  I intentionally let a gap form and he didn't immediately recognize it.  The guys put the hammer down and he had to expend a lot of matches to bridge up.  I think he knew it was on purpose, in that he wouldn't let me get in front of him again.  The only time he was behind me in San Antonio was when I was leading.  But when I dropped off, he did too.
     Today, there were no ladies to draft.  Again there were only five of us.  But without the wind, we were setting a decent pace.  Again, on the second lap, with me leading, a group of faster guys passed just before a ninety-degree turn.  I accelerated and jumped on their wheels, leaving my group expending lots of energy to track me down.  Once they caught me, about a half mile of trying, I sat up and let the faster guys move away.  That was fun.  Then it was back to doing laps.  We left one guy behind, so three out of four of us took turns at the front.  Another group of fast guys passed us and again I jumped on and the others had to struggle to catch up.  We finally shamed Fresh Legs into taking a half lap lead, but by now we were setting up for the finish.
     The timer was calling out laps remaining, three, two, last lap.  Unfortunately, since we were lapped by the young, fast guys, he was confused.  Our last lap was only nine of ten.  Didn't matter, if he said last lap, we treated it as the last lap.  As it turned out, I was leading up the back-side hill.
     I don't mind bragging, I can take that last turn faster than any of the others.  But, unlike yesterday, when you made the turn you have the wind (not as strong as yesterday, but still significant) in your face.  In the previous eight laps I determined I wouldn't be the one leading out of that turn.  As it happened, that decision was wrested from me.
     About 200 meters from the turn, Mr. Fresh Legs attacked from the back.  Jaime yelled out "Go, Go!" and I started to accelerate.  Of course, he was by me and had about twenty yards as we hit the turn.  Another fifty yards and I was on his wheel.  You've got to be really strong to attack in a headwind.  Unfortunately, I hesitated just a second, long enough for Jaime and Bob to pass on the left.  I hit it again and easily distanced Fresh Legs but couldn't get to the other guys. 
 Jaime told me afterwards that he didn't hold my wheel out of the corner, but was really motoring once he came off it.  Bob was on his wheel but couldn't pass.  I was happy with third.  Had I the confidence to do another gear and not hesitate it might have been a different ending.  But medals aren't really why we (well, me) race, it is to have fun. 
 Dean puts his medals in a box, I display mine.  But the medals are only a representation of the commitment you have to the sport.  When you retire, you cannot sit around waiting to expire.  I put a lot of time and energy into cycling.  I even put some time into writing about cycling.  There are worse things in the world to do with your spare time.