Author

Luke Seemann on Apr 24, 2006

Race name: McCormick's Creek Road Race Race date: Monday, Apr 24, 2006

A day after soaking in the cycling bacchanal that is the Little 500, Jason, Tim and I headed to McCormick's Creek State Park for a 36-mile road race. We were delighted to find new xXxer Kevin warming up, giving us 4 in the ~35-strong field. We were the second-largest team, behind the 8-strong Bolla team from Louisville.

Before the race Kevin noted that he'd never seen a break stick in an Indiana Race Series road race. Tim and I, however, aren't ones to let prudence or implausability get in the way of a good break. Tim went off first, attacking with a Bolla rider after our second of eight trips through the course's three rollers. It immediately became clear that any successful break would include Bolla as they had plenty of riders capable of putting down an effective block. (In fact, their blocking pushed the limits of sportsmanship. They lined up four abreast, taking up more than half of the narrow road. One had to break the yellow-line rule to pass, and even then there was barely a hole. I was expecting them to lay hands on one another's shoulders to reinforce their blockade.)

Tim got caught after a mile or two, and I quickly countered. I had about 20 seconds but nobody came with and I stood up when we got to the rollers again.

After the third trip up the rollers, Bolla and Tortuga riders attacked. I jumped and attempted to bridge. One of my favorite racing advisers recently told me how important it is?to go to the front of the break when bridging. This adds one extra bike length between the pack and the break, and more important it tells the others that you're serious about making it stick. I did this and it worked as advertised. Very quickly we had a sizable gap and were efficiently trading pulls. Nobody else would join us.

We lost the Bolla rider on the first climb. This was a decisive moment. I thought maybe we should wait for him so that we could still count on his team's blocking help, but Tortuga was happy to continue with just the two of us. On we rode.

The story of a break is about as exciting as the story of a time trial. I rode hard. I rode hard some more. A couple of times I turned. After a lap we had a gap of 1:40. Not that we had any clue at the time. Nobody was shouting out times to us, but we saw plenty of people starting their stopwatches as we passed.

Tortuga proved to be a pleasant riding companion. When he dropped me on the climb with three to go, he was polite enough to let me catch up. When he ran out of water I offered some Accelerade, hoping that if not for my wheel he'd let me stick around because he liked my company.

We had conversations like:

Me: So, you got anyone back there?

Him: No. You?

Me: Yeah, but only three.

Him: Nuts!

and

Me: So, is there a Waffle House nearby?

Him: Yeah, in Bloomington.

Me: If this sticks, lunch is on me.

Him: F--- yeah!

Even though xXx had only three in the chase, they may as well have been 30 for as hard and as smart as they worked. In fact, I'd suggest they had to work harder than me. I merely had to ride hard -- they had to ride hard and think about tactics. Fortunately, they were on top of their game, and they shut down chases like it was a game of Whack-a-Mole. (Or should I say, Whack-a-Mack?)

It wasn't until after our last trip through the rollers that Tortuga and I felt confident in our break, but still we hammered. At this point I was too wiped to think much about tactics. I didn't think about form or timing or what gear I wanted to be in for the sprint. I put in a half-hearted attack with a half-mile to go, but it died an early death, and the Tortuga guy out-legged me at the end. But I was fine with this. I'm one of those deranged people who feel victory should go to the strongest and the nicest (I'm hoping hypnosis can cure me of this) and Tortuga was definitely both.

This was a great race, and not just because we all finished well (me in 2nd, Tim 7th, Kevin 8th, Jason 11th). The course was smooth and challenging, and Dan Daly puts on a good show. He even had the foresight to requisition perfect weather. (It was?so nice to race in shorts and short sleeves. We should do it again sometime.)

Before the race, Daly beamed when he saw me and told me how great it was to see me again. We have never met, however. He must have thought I was Eric Goodwin, who always sang Daly's praises after IRS races last year. Those praises proved to be well-deserved. The travel can be a bear, but even when your car breaks down and strands you at a Dairy Queen for four hours, the IRS races are well worth it.