O'Fallon Grand Prix - Illinois State RR Champs
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After the Cat 4 fiasco of last year, and the predicted record temps for today, I wasn't too keen on doing this race. But it being only 3 hours away and being the State Championship, and being exceedingly well-organised, I felt obliged to support it. So off to O'Fallon I went, albeit somewhat unenthusiastically.
I got out of bed... many didn't.
It wasn't a strong field that lined up for our 2 lap, 50 mile race. Noone particularly strong from Chicago, bar one guy who I had been told was a good crit rider. I didn't know the STL guys, but there were 5 from Momentum and they're always strong riders with usually one good sprinter hidden in there somewhere.
We lined up, received the usual centerline and no passing the pace car orders and were off. Just after the first corner, into a mild grade, I took off. It wasn't planned but I often do this to test the legs - it acts as a good opener - and here I hoped to set the tone for the race with a fast tempo from the gun. I got a good gap, was able to choose my lines around a few corners and down a descent and settled into fast TT mode - on the edge of getting out of sight, out of mind. The legs didn't feel good though, I just wasn't spinning freely. After a couple of miles I noticed a rider trying to bridge up, I was happy to slow and wait for him, but the field sensed danger and closed him, and me down pretty quickly. Not to worry.
There was a solid crosswind on what seemed to be the majority of the course, so there was some guttering action going on. This made any break very hard to initiate, but at least it was pretty easy to move to the front if you wanted - it wasn't a popular position. The momentum guys went to the front and set a fast pace. I had a couple more digs when the pace slowed, but Momentum closed the gaps pretty quickly - I was guessing they were trying to set up a solo flyer of their own - anytime anyone tried to attack. They didn't attack, not sure what they were doing, but at least we managed to keep up a reasonable speed for the first lap. My attacks didn't get anywhere - legs never really opened up and I could feel the burn of the excess work, but I wasn't too concerned, my endurance is excellent these days and even my bad legs will usually get me to the end of the race in decent shape.
For the whole race I never dropped back further than about 8th place, and spent quite a few miles at or off the front. This costs a bit more energy, ut I felt it was worth it in that I could monitor any attacks, not get caught behind stupid crashes (which happened in 2009 in the last few miles), have a better choice of line through the 50 corners on the course and set tempo to suit myself if I wanted to. The other motivation for staying at the front was, after one hard effort I dropped to 2/3rds of the way back for a rest and the littering that was going on really got to me. Water bottles, half-eaten bars still in wrappers, used gels were being thrown into fields and ditches. Race organisers go to huge efforts to put on a much-needed road race and fools do their best to show disdain for our countryside and give killjoys an excuse to object to the running of the race next year. After bawling out a couple guys, I found myself starting to get really upset
about this, so I resolved to just ride near the front where I couldn't see the littering anymore and people might be a bit more interested in racing. I'm truly ashamed at the activity of some of my fellow riders - you know who you are!
We hit the feed zone at the start/finish line, I stayed to the left and out of the way, - you could have made a blooper highlight reel of all the missed hand ups - everyone was well-behaved and we sportingly regrouped to commence lap 2. The wind and temps had increased, it was over 100F on the road, and a lot of the fight had been knocked out of us. An unattached guy, I'm guessing a triathlete doing his first road race, took off at the same point that I attacked on the first lap. He wasn't going very fast, but we were going slower, and noone had any interest in chasing him down. I was sure that if I tried to bridge I'd get chased down, so if he felt he could solo 25 miles in that weather for the win I was happy to let him go for it. It took him quite a while to get out of sight, but out of sight he did go.
Strangely, all the Momentum guys retired to the back for the rest of lap 2. Not a lot happened. It was just too hot and windy. A couple of solo guys got bored and took long pulls, myself and a teammate got a good rotation going with two Team Mackers and started to make good time but noone else would pull through so we gave up after a few rotations. The single attack was from Todd from Team Mack, who took off over the top of a hill, put his head down and went for it. I was happy to let him go and did a false chase. Going fast enough to keep him in sight but messing with the tempo by doing a few false jumps out of corners and then soft pedalling a bit. If anyone wanted to catch him then they were more than welcome to come to the front and actually do some work. Todd wasn't able to last out there alone in the wind for very long and he came back to the group after a few minutes - but the increased pace and tempo changes had successfully burned off some of
the hangers-on.
Shortly after that we spotted the pace car up the road and we very gradually caught up to the solo guy, still plugging away optimistically. He had stayed out there for 15 miles. He then obligingly pulled us at a reasonable tempo for the next five miles or so.
By this time Death March 2011 was in full swing. The temp was hitting 105F on the road, we were all out of water, and the 100F wind was doing a fine job of parching us. The speed was getting slower, the wind was increasing - it just wasn't fun. I must have more Belgian in me than Spaniard - several times I contemplated calling it a day and just finding a nice shady tree to embrace and rest under. But then I started to notice the ever increasing tide-lines on the bibs of some of the other riders, even over a few minutes the extra salt loss could be seen. I looked around, some guys already had goose bumps. I was still sweating, had a couple of gulps of water left and my heart rate was under control - others were suffering more than me. What would Sean do? Gut it out - that's what!
About 2.5 miles to go we hit the last right hander on the course. I knew it was long straight to a windy descent, then on to the last hill and the turn onto the final straight. As we made the turn a gap formed and 6 riders went clear, I started to jump but felt, for the first time ever, my calves starting to cramp. I let a couple others come around me, jumped onto the back of them and closed to the first group. I shouted at the leaders to punch it, we did, and after a short effort the moto came around to sit on my wheel. Now we were ten, and with one slight acceleration had shed the rest of the field.
We kept a fast tempo, everyone's mind on the tactics for the finish. Some just hanging on, some waiting for the sprint, some planning to attack on the hill. Down into the valley we swooped, me at the back, and kept up the speed on the approach to the hill - too fast for me to make up any places. We hit the base of the hill and the group imploded. Gears grinding, pedalling squares, cursing. I worked my way gingerly up the white line, making my way past the popping riders, trying to get to the front before anyone got away. A big Team Mack guy had the same idea but decided to take route one into third place. The moto wasn't having any of this and, rather bizarrely, veered into the pack, grabbed the guy and told him he was DQ'd. This is with 700 m to go. It took a few seconds to negotiate past the slowing moto and confused Macker, with some riders forced to trackstand, and this gifted the front two a nice gap.
I hammered for all I was worth, but rounding the last corner with 500 m to go I was in third place, with 3 riders on my wheel, two of which had spent the full race in the back and out of the wind, and a good 4 second gap to the first two. I could have flogged myself silly to catch them but would then have been worthless in the sprint, as well as dragging up fresh riders to jump around me.
One of the first two was from STL, the 2nd was unattached, so the only choice was to concentrate on winning third place and hope none of those ahead were from Illinois.
400 m to go, I take a couple of seconds breather and then do a half-assed jump, two riders bit on it and came around. The second guy was whupped and couldn't pass, I tucked in behind the first, recovered for a second and started to come past as he faded rather quickly. Fooled you!
Then James Psimet, who definitely had done less work than anyone else in the race - it must have been a phenomenally boring 50 miles for him - flashed past. He got a good jump and a couple of bike lengths on me. But I still had 150 m to reel him in. This I duly did. I hammered as hard as anyone who's ever done a gruelling fifty miles in 100F has ever hammered, caught him with 20 m to go and beat him to the line by a full wheel, my 32 spoke box section rims to his fancy deep section carbon - didn't even have to use my bike throw!
As all this was going on I somehow was able to take in the sprint for first unfolding 60 yards ahead. The unattached guy got a nice gap then did something I have never seen a cat 2, 3 4 or 5 do. He did a backwards sprint - heading for the line, but looking back all the time, and whenever his chaser tried to close he simply accelerated just enough to maintain a nice 3 bikelength gap. The guy was ostensibly a cat 5 in his first race ever race, but it was pretty clear from the rather comfortable manner of the win that he had raced at an elite level at sometime in the past. You see this every now and then and USA cycling will never bother to be concerned about it. All the more reason to try harder and get enough points to upgrade.
Oh well! Turns out the unattached winner was from Chicago and thus claimed the jersey. Giving a State champ jersey for a developmental cat is a joke anyway. I wasn't too worried about that.
It would have been nice if the moto hadn't intervened to decide the first two places. Would have been great to contest the win, but that's racing. Stuff happens.
Pretty sweet that I was able to put in multiple attacks and chases in 100F temps and 15 mph wind, work hard at the front all day and still have enough left at the end to handily win the chase group sprint over a couple of (relatively) fresh-as-a-daisy riders at the end. That's encouraging.
Full credit to the organisers for a superbly-run day. Volunteers everywhere, great atmosphere and hotly-contested racing (pun intended). With the limited # of motos available it was a great idea for each pack to be joined by a moto for the last few miles - definitely made things safer and improved rider behaviour. Also, the additional 3 miles to each lap definitely made a difference. There were a couple more passing opportunities, and the extra 20 minutes of racing really starts to separate the men from the weenies when races do go over 2 hours in length.
It seems that if I dampen my expectations I tend to do better. I started the day with limited enthusiasm but came home with a solid result, some upgrade points, two nice medals (state and overall) plus enough $$$ to cover gas money and a six-pack. I'm happy.
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