There it was, the hill of Baraboo. The guys had been talking up the hill since SLO, about the cheese eaters going over it so quickly, and leaving us flatlanders in the proverbial dust.

So I arrived early, anxious with coffee in my veins and a Hardee's Bacon Egg and Cheese in my belly. I had enough time to drive the course, which is a huge benefit cuz it removes a lot of surprises. But it's also daunting, telling you know what you're in for. Doubling up was looking dumb.

The race rolled out nicely (with XXX making up 14 of the last 15 positions - see gallery). Over the first hill, the leaders worked hard but didn't try to kill anyone. No one attacked at the top, surprisingly. And so we settled into a rhythm of surges and recovery. Surges in the flats and valleys, recovery on the hills - opposite of tactics, at least as I'm told. Maybe the field was too strong for an attack to stick, and 27 miles is a short race.

This race was very different from Hillsboro. That race broke up early, with hot pace. The pacesetters here were not as determined, but the pack was, so no breaks got anywhere near staying away.

I was frustrated. I wanted the race to split up, and ideally I'd be able to stay in the break, so I could worry about 3-4 other guys instead of the horde that now was all around. I figured a bunch sprint could be unpredictable.

But Luke took over. With news from the back that we were now just 4, he set up a plan. Follow him to the front, then see what we could do. So I hopped on. In the final mile, when everyone else was pushing out to the yellow line, he went gutter-side, and created clean space for both of us on the inside.

With room to ride, we were able to respond to the attacks from the outside. He covered one, then I did too, and we were still sitting pretty in the front when two tall dudes started ramping up the pace. I hopped on third wheel behind them, followed for a bit until it seemed time to go.

I was already in the drops with my shifting glove off (per Randy's suggestions, on both), and was able to "rock the bike from side to side, then straighten out and accelerate." Sprint practice all over again, but this time, there was no one along-side and nothing but the line in front of me. Of course, I threw the bike just to make sure.

I was glad to get the win, but more proud to see that we were able to salvage a tough strategic race thru smart teamwork.

Masters 4/5

I was dying. I had to spin between races to keep from hurling, but it was a beautiful day, so didn't say no. I even cheerily convinced Kirby to ride 2 -- I apologize, Mike.

I stayed with the pack over the first hill, but it was all I could do to maintain pace thru the "mostly flat" rollers to the top of the course. Luke seemed spry, even floating to the front to set some tempo. Oh, to be able to smile thru all that.

And so I can't actually say I was that bummed when the most Wisconsin of gear on my bike, the Bontrager tubes I got at Kozy's a year ago, gave way (at the stem, which is now twice in the same place - defect). Thankfully, I flatted 100 meters before the start finish line and was able to limp back to the car.

I'd have liked to finish, and see how I might have been able to tough it out. But that might have robbed me getting to cheer on Luke as he finished Top 10 in both races. Now that's a race result to be proud of.