The Denzer Delight is probably my favorite local road race after Hillsboro-Roubaix. The dominant feature comes early in each lap: a gradual, milelong climb whose three bends keep the top out of sight and leave the uninitiated uncertain of its end. In other words, it’s my type of climb.
Unfortunately, flatlanders tend to stay away, and this year’s Cat 3 race had only 19 entrants. Notable among them was Geargrinder’s Jordan Heimer, who won out of a break at Whitnall Park and who dragged the break around at the Baraboo Road Race two weeks ago.
From the first climb I knew I’d be able to dictate this race. I kept it cool, but nobody was crowding me at the front. Once onto the false flat at the top I gave it the gas, just for yucks, and when next I looked back we were down to 10. Most of the rest of the field would eventually chase back on, but I knew from previous experience that they wouldn’t be so fortunate on the next lap.
The next time up the hill, Jordan made some separation on the hill. I gave chase and very nearly caught him on the ridge, but when I looked back there was a group of six that appeared to be gaining rapidly. I decided to let up and integrate with them, rather than work hard to bridge to Jordan on my own.
They were gassed by the time they caught me, so we didn't close right away. Our level of organization waxed and waned as we struggled to echelon smoothly through some heavy crosswinds, but for the next two laps we were able to keep Jordan within sight at a comfortable 30-45 second gap. We finally caught him in the headwind of the start/finish area as we headed into the final lap.
There were 7 people left in the race at this point. I knew this climb had to be decisive. My goal would be to make the group as small as possible. I probably didn't want to go solo -- I didn't trust my ability to TT away from a chase group, especially if Jordan was involved -- but a lead group of two or three would have at least given me a sporting chance in the sprint.
The only team with more than one representative, Brone’s, was kind enough to lead it out to the hill, and then I started plugging away. I varied my pace to create as much difficulty as possible: sitting for 20 seconds, then standing and giving a 10-second burst. Over and over. Halfway up I looked back and there were only four behind me. Then only three.
Finally Jordan was at my side, matching me pedal stroke for pedal stroke, and the only person hanging on was a friendly Brazen Dropout who had been helpful in the chase earlier. He urged me to keep it steady. He could be an important ally against Jordan, but instead of extending a lifeline I opted to put the final nail in the coffin of the others, standing and powering over the top with Jordan. That's racin'.
Jordan and I never saw the others again. I graciously allowed him to do about 3/4ths of the pulling, and I didn’t take a single pull the last three miles. Instead I went over my mental checklist of the sprint. Let a gap open. Pass on the far side of the wind. Be in a gear low enough to spin. Pound the handlebars like shaking the ears off a gundark. Summon 32 years worth of rage and disappointment.
With the headwind I knew I’d want to wait as long as possible. I tried to trick Jordan into going faster by telling him the chase group was gaining on us; he didn't fall for it.
We went over the bridge that marked 200 meters. I waited. 100 meters. I waited. 50 meters – I jumped! And Jordan jumped too! And beat me by two bikelengths! Nuts!
Once again, last in the break. At least my breaks are getting smaller.
The next day I asked Jordan how I should have beaten him. “You should have jumped even later,” he said. “Oh, and I heard you shift your gears, so I knew you were coming.”
Don’t shift right before the jump – that wasn’t on my checklist!