My First (Target) Race Ever.
In 2008, I raced Proctor as a Cat 4. After the crash on turn seven of the last lap, I was sitting pretty at 7th wheel. But that only lasted until the final turn, when my front wheel got taken out, and I hit the pavement. Driving myself home with a messed-up bike, some painful road rash, and no one else to share the stories made for a fun three hours, let me tell you.
Fast forward to Proctor 2009. This was the first target race I’ve ever done. Up to this point, it’s been, “Hey, can I get a car to drive to this race? Can I take off work? Cool, then I’ll go race.” After crashing at Proctor last year, I had a score to settle. And when I was at the meeting early this winter talking about goal-setting, the first thing I wrote down was “Win Proctor.” Lofty goal for a chump like myself, but I needed the challenge and the focus. So there it was, written on a crumbled piece of xXx paper, staring me in the face all winter. The parenthetical should have been “(don’t crash on the last turn of the last lap again).”
No such thing as team tactics in the 4s, I’ve always heard. Good thing I don’t believe a lot of what I hear. I started at front of the race, and it shot off like a gun, faster than any start I think I’ve been a part of. For whatever reason, I tagged along on Ben-Jamin’s (the Hawaii Powerbar guy) wheel, turned around after turn two, and realized we had a gap on the field. Uhhh, OK, I’m going to do exactly this much work, Mister [holds up a big zero]. He brought me along for a while, maybe a lap or something, but obviously this thing wasn’t going to stick. I loved the fast pace, though. Well, eventually, after that first lap, a couple people had bridged up, and we had a good six guys. Then maybe a lap later another group of five bridged and I thought for sure this would be the selection, with pretty well every team represented in the break, and we’d stay away no problem. Well, I think the thought of a 40-minute race scared some people, because no one wanted to do work, myself included. I took a magnificent 20 totals seconds of pulls, if that, conserving for what was bound to come later.
Little did I know my xXx teammates were just sitting in the group waiting to counter. Enter William: he cranked it for a while, and won a prime, I remember telling him not to chase down Hawaii Powerbar Man at one point (that guy had to have attacked 10 times within the first five laps), and eventually it all came back together.
Enter Seegs: he countered and spent maybe 1.5 to 2 laps off the front, and meanwhile I was sitting second wheel the entire time. Letting everybody else do all the work. When we reel Seegs back in, I’m glancing back to see if there’s anybody else on the team ready to jump. I’m maybe three seconds from going off when up along my left side comes Chris Koster (who would eventually flat out - fear not, man, you killed it out there and I owe you huge). Koster’s out front for a good long time. We were at maybe 8 to go when he took his flier, and I’m still sitting second, third, fourth wheel the whole time, letting other guys combat the wind on the back stretch. I jumped sort of out in front at one point to slow the chase down, knowing if Chris could stay off just one more lap, the next counter could ultimately be the winning move, and I wasn’t about to let that opportunity pass me by. Six to go, Chris is still out front, but the gap is almost nonexistent. Finally, we “climb the hill” after turn seven, and hit the home stretch. Chris is caught, and I don’t even see the five to go sign when I book it as hard as I can go. I recall hearing the announcer: “And it looks like it’s still the same Triple X rider off the front — no, it’s a different rider.” I craned my neck after turn one and saw the most lovely asphalt a man off the front can see. No shiny bikes, no crazy-colored lycra in sight, and I knew it was do or die time. Five laps off the front solo. I feel like I remember this from somewhere… oh, right, from the Cat 4 race last year. I’m gunning it, focusing on the turns, taking them better during those laps than I did the first 30 minutes of the race.
Four, three, two, bell lap. One to go. I actually remember thinking to myself, up on the high elevation part of the course where some of the Cuttin’ Crew was hanging out, that this would either be the greatest thing in the world or the absolute worst. I hadn’t looked back in over a lap and didn’t dare do so now. I just pretended they were 10 seconds back and gaining on me, and made myself feel things I didn’t know you could feel. Hit the back stretch into the wind, got low, turned the pedals over and over and over. I glanced back and didn’t see anything too close. Maybe I’ve got room. Don’t look again, there might be somebody there this time.
I get a strange sensation as I stand up on the pedals and sprint up the little hill before the final turn. Ahh, glorious, a new pain. I glance down at the asphalt on turn eight, where one year prior I was lying in a pink-skinned mess as I watched the whole field sprint towards the finish line. This time I was by myself. I glanced back a couple times to make sure no one was close. They weren’t. I gave some Triple X love on my post-up, crossed the line 20 seconds ahead of everybody, and yelled for good measure.
State championship. Hey Liam, you wanted to know what happens when you set a goal, bust your ass, and stick to your plan? This. Thank you Cat 4s for helping me on this one. A dream come true, and surely the best display of team tactics a category four state championship has ever seen.