First,
some background. Last year at the Senior
Games Nationals in Birmingham, I came in second to Durward Higgins in the 10k
time trial. In later conversations, I
found he had competed in the USAC Nationals in Augusta the week before. Once I returned home, I looked up the results
of those races. Well, he was far and
away faster than the rest of the field, but second place times were in my ball
park, so to speak. I also discovered
that USAC had five-year age groups, something I didn’t think they did. I had already determined I needed a coach to
get better, so the goal was to get fast enough to be competitive for second
place at this year’s nationals.
Second, the lead-up.
I signed up early, then kept an eye out for who else was in my age group. My first clue that things might not go as
planned was that none (NONE) of the guys who raced last year signed up for this
year, except Durward. One new name
popped up, Phil Needham. I knew the
name, but had never met him. Well, I
knew the name because he is a five-year national Senior Games Champion. Ok, now I’m racing for third. My friend
Carolyn, who was National Champion last year, described the course as
lumpy. Gee, did those guys who aren’t
repeating doing so because the course is too hilly? Hmmm!
The pre-race instructions indicated the course would be
open for pre-riding after 5pm on Wednesday (race was Thursday). We arrived Wednesday afternoon, checked in and
picked up my number, then checked into the hotel. Around 6pm I drove over to Fort Gordon and
prepared to preview the course. Apparently the para-racers ran late, because
it was after 7pm before it was open. I
had given up by then. My friend Clif
told me it was quite hilly, with one really long, steep one. Great.
The first race was the time trial, 20k in length. I warmed up using the available road, which
happened to be the finish of Friday’s road race, so at least I got to preview
that. Generally speaking, I do better in the longer time trials. Both Durward and Phil started behind me. I started strong but controlled. The hills were challenging but I felt
confident as I shifted up and down the cogs.
I passed my one minute man and had a second one in my sights. We made the right turn on to McDuffie Road
and into a head wind plus a wash-board road.
Perhaps wash-board is too strong a description, but it certainly wasn’t
smooth. I passed number three and number
four. Soon enough, I got to the
turn-around and with the wind behind me, was able to increase speed and not
bounce quite so much. I made the left
turn and now had the wind from the left.
About this time Durward blew past me.
I knew it would happen, so wasn’t discouraged. The downer came in the form of two really
steep, long hills. I was in the 44-26
and struggling, both in strength and heart-rate. My max HR is 164 and for most of this race I
was above 156. These hills got me up to
162. The Garmin showed 6.9 mph just
before the crest. I managed to ramp up
some rpm’s at the end and was rewarded with hearing the announcer say I was in
third place. As it turned out, I came in
fourth, which was still a spot on the five-person podium. I wasn’t close to Durward, but then, no one
else was either.
Friday was the 28 mile road race, two laps. Our race started at 8:05 and I was warmed up
and ready, although the legs weren’t up to the task. This race was 70+ ages, so although we would
be scored according to our 5-year grouping, we’d all race together. That meant all I had to do was hang on to the
back of the young guys. We started off
flat, made a right turn and came to a downhill followed by a really long, steep
uphill. I’d worked my way up to the
first third of the group and was happy with my positioning. Then my bike began to shake. Various thoughts flashed through my mind: did
I not tighten the front axel?, Did I have a flat? This was an unknown experience. Dang!
I slowed and raised my hand and came to a stop. Nope, no flat, tires were good. Neutral support guy came up and gave a quick
check and we both agreed nothing was wrong with the bike. Up I got and started pedaling. No way could I catch on to the peloton. I didn’t expend myself up the hill, but
ramped it up after. As it was, I passed
four riders, who had been dropped. This
was another really hilly course and since I had no chance of podium, I
considered the next course of action.
We will now call this a strategic DNF. My legs still felt the effects of the time
trial and I’d be doing the second lap again by myself. So, I pulled the plug, ran my hand across my
throat at the finish line, and called it a day.
I had some regrets but will address those later.
We had most of Friday and all day Saturday to rest and do
a bit of touring in Augusta. Sunday noon
would be the criterium. About ten years
ago I entered two crits and was unceremoniously pulled in less than ten
minutes. To be fair, I was with younger,
faster guys, but it still bruised the ego.
I hadn’t considered crits since.
Until now.
Once again, it would be 70+ so all I needed to do was
latch onto a wheel and hang on. With
crits they do call-ups, so me being a nobody, I was in the last group at the
start line. I quickly found out that as
inexperienced as I was in this genre, there were guys who were less so. You don’t brake in the corners, you hold your
line. I did well the first lap (.8 of a
mile), and actually moved into a good position about a third back on the second
lap. The peloton slowed on the
left-right-left corners for some reason.
Anyhow, I hung with the guys until they got serious on the seventh lap and
put the hammer down on one of the corners.
Five yards, ten yards, and then they didn’t slow down at the corner and
I waved goodbye.
My coach, Owen, was at the start/finish line calling out
encouragement and letting me know how I was doing. Once I lost the peloton I could carve through
the corners keeping my cadence and actually put time into those behind me. With seven laps to go Owen advised I was in
third place and something like thirty-three seconds up on forth. I continued on and for one lap lost ten seconds. I got lapped by the peloton,
but that was a good thing. For one, I
latched on to the back for about three hundred yards so that upped my
speed. For another, that meant I had one
lap less to race since the race ended on the lap of the peloton. However, number four apparently also latched
on to them for a while, because Owen advised I only had a six second lead with
two laps to go. I wasn’t worried, much. No,
really. Whoever was behind had to
expend a lot of energy catching up while I was holding a little something in
reserve. My lap times and speed were very consistent. If you go to my Strava page, the analysis shows just when I got dropped and how much less power I had to use. Of course, that was why I got dropped in the first place.
Enter
Fred. Fred Schmidt is 86 and can still
beat me in a road race. He caught up to
me and I pulled him for half a lap, then he pulled me. As we approached the finish he
accelerated. I considered just following
him in but then figured this was a learning opportunity to see how much I could
do at the end of a race. I upped the
cadence to 132 and pipped him at the line.
Mixed emotions on that, feeling bad about beating him, but glad that I
could. It didn’t matter about placement,
in that he was first in his age group, and I held on to third. 
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