Author

Luke Seemann on Jun 12, 2006

Race name: Spring Prairie Road Race Race date: Monday, Jun 12, 2006

The women were strong, the men were good looking, the junior was above average.

Four xXx men entered the Spring Prairie road race last year. Only one of them stayed with the pack, and it wasn't me, not by a long shot. This year, things would be different.

For one thing, I'd have more than 20 teammates who, unswayed by the buckets of rain falling in Chicago, headed north to crash Wisconsin's state championship. We were so great in numbers that promoters created a race solely for out-of-staters.

I like this course. The roads are as smooth as they come, and a long-ish, steep hill right before the finish line made it suited to me. No worry about getting outsprinted here.

Rain, darkness and sorrow yielded to sunshine, warmth and glee once we crossed the state border. As I greeted people in the parking lot, I asked, "Ready to break some legs today?" To a person they answered in the affirmative.

Things started out right with xXx taking control and establishing a swift tempo on the first lap. I recall Jacques, Brian Boyle, Pat and Stewart taking good pulls, and there probably were others. New teammate Tim Hermanas followed the plan and let loose several impressive attacks to announce our presence. At least one opposing rider was visibly vexed by the prospect of having to chase down 20+ such attacks.

And then the hill.

This hill would teach me an important lesson this day, that of not getting cocky about one's strengths.

I confess that ever since San Luis Obisbo, I've become a mite overconfident in my climbing skills. It has now officially gone to my head, as I spent each of the first three trips up the hill showing off my nonchalance. The first time I headed to the fore and waved, as if I were a parade marshal leading a caravan of elephants and marching bands. The second time up I made a show of drinking from my bottle and gargling. The third time up I planted a kiss on my lady friend watching on the sidelines. (I was going so fast, her head spun. Neck injury was narrowly averted.)

By the fourth time up the games were over. It was time for a selection to be made. The first three laps had whittled the field from 60 to 40 to 20, and thanks to some hard efforts from xXx and Northwestern, the final group of 12 was now established. Five were xXx: Me, Ed, Kevin, Ken and new teammate Pieter, who not having a uniform was riding incognito.

Once this group was established, only a few of us were taking pulls, mostly us and a couple of ABD riders. Others moaned about how since they were isolated without teammates, they'd just sit in back, thank you very much.

Ed and I spent the last few laps whispering about how we were going to win this race. It was pretty much a continuation of exhaustive discussions we'd been having over e-mail all week. That's what I love about cycling vs. running. Each race is a puzzle waiting to be cracked. A marathon, on the other hand, is just a matter of going from here to there as fast as possible.

Heading into a stiff wind in the backstretch on Lap 5, the pace turned into a mosey. Naturally I did the same stupid thing I always do when I'm in a pack and I'm bored and impatient: I rolled off the front. And naturally the pack did the same smart thing it always does: It let me go.

I was surprised but pleased with the gap I got. 400 meters? This wasn't anything Ed and I had discussed, but I thought maybe I could expland it over the hill and make it stick for a lap. It's only 6 miles. I had blockers. What could go wrong?

We were starting to pass lapped riders. When I passed Jeff Kao, I yelled, "When they come through, tell Ed I've cramped up real bad!" Then I made a show of shaking out my right leg. I figured if the group thought I was injured they wouldn't chase so hard. (I'd read about this stunt in a book some time ago. It worked in the book, but it didn't work here. Nonetheless, I had fun trying. Such is tactical lesson No. 1 of cycling: If you can't be fast, be sneaky.)

By the time I was halfway up the hill, I could tell I was going to get caught, but I was startled to see myself get caught in such a blaze of glory: Here comes Pieter screaming up the left! He's flying up the hill faster than anyone I've ever seen climb. Great! A counterattack! A brilliant tactical move.

Except it wasn't an attack: Pieter had thought we were on the last lap. It's a shame, because nobody could have ever matched that climb. (I've never ridden with Pieter, but he really impressed in this race, not only with his climbing but with his descending, curling into an aero tuck tighter than a clenched fist. "Where'd you learn to ride like that?" I asked afterward. "Belgium." But of course. Welcome, Pieter.)

And then the last lap. Again we settled into a mosey on the finishing flat, until Ed moved to the front and set tempo to keep people honest. He pulled off and other riders started to attack, but none got separation.

I came into the final corner in third. And here's where I blew it.

The first five times up the hill I'd done it by the book. Great form, smiling for maximum oxygen intake, spinning in my larger cogs. This time I got cocky and tried to assault the hill in a smaller cog, maybe a 39x15. And thanks in part to all the matches I'd spent early, I simply couldn't turn it over, and I had too much hubris to shift down and get into my proper rhythm. Instead I tried to grind it out. I felt I had plenty of gas and had been feeling great even after my flyer, but I was sputtering. Meanwhile, the rest of our group started to pass me. My throw wasn't good enough to pip anyone, and I got 9th.

Thankfully, Ed showed his usual excellence and earned us some beer money. He came in second, finishing behind a rider who had taken precious few pulls. ("But he didn't pull!" I pouted over lunch. "Yes, and he won," my lady friend reminded me.)

Afterward Ed and I could be found scratching our heads. How did we not win this? What was the right solution to this puzzle? Sure, we broke some legs, but in these races there's no special jersey for most aggressive rider, let alone top leg breaker. There's only a winner and then everyone else. What could we have done differently? And is it too late to call for a do-over?

I didn't stick around for results, but I think Ken and Pieter came in 5th and 6th, and Kevin was right behind me. Although we didn't get the V that our numbers should have earned, five in the top 10 is pretty fantastic. Our own state championship is in three weeks. Let's do it again.