Not near a pro

Bartow W. Riggs

I seem to be extremely proud of my 16-year-old who is racing with people
twice his age...he writes pretty well too...


Copperopolis Road Race

Senior 3

4/10/04

Winning is never, ever, easy. No matter where you are or what you are doing.
In this case, racing 84 miles in the race that is known as the Paris-Roubaix
of California, winning; not to mention even finishing is never, ever easy.

The race started with 80 riders, but only 73 riders rolled off because 7
riders missed their start. I was one of those 7. I was in the bathroom. I
get out of the bathroom nonchalantly, hop on my bike, and host a private
argument in my head as to whether or not to go to the van and grab my
gloves; I decide not to and head to the starting line. Big mistake.

Rolling up to the start line and seeing nothing but a bunch of riders with
their number in the 400 series and several people yelling at me that I
missed the 3's start, I sprint away down the road. This is when it hit me, I
had completely forgotten about it: the condition of the pavement. There is a
pot hole every 20 yards and the rest of the road surface was made up of
patches, dips, and cracks. We might as well have been riding cobblestones
like they do in the real Paris-Roubaix. I had no warm-up so starting the day
off with a 3K time trial was not good at all. I caught up to the pack right
before the feed-zone at the two or three mile mark.

For the next 2 laps (42 miles) I just sat in and hung out, I didn't want to
attack or expend any energy just yet. I felt really strong on the climbs,
always passing people and ending up near the front without much stress. I
was eating and drinking a lot too because in this 84 mile, roughly 4 hour
race, nutrition is especially important. This race would be the longest I
have raced in the two years I have been cycling.

The geography of this is race is a little unusual and here is what you need
to know. There are 2 main sections to the race. The first section contains
the feed zone and a long small chain ring climb. Most riders who get dropped
get dropped here. The second section contains a good, decent climb, enough
to drop off anyone who is feeling pain, a fast 45mph twisty decent then a
shorter uphill 1/2 mile drag to the finish line. In between the 2 sections
is a mixture of rollers and flats.

Going up the first section on the third lap I figured it was time to put the
pressure on in the climb. I went to the front and started spinning faster,
just accelerating the pace. I could see two riders up the way so I figured I
would keep the pace high until we caught them. I look over my shoulder and
the pack is behind me by a good 40 yards. I stood up and accelerated once
more. Well, you know, at the time it seemed like a good idea.

To summarize it all, I was on my own off the front for about for about 25
minutes when a rider bridged up to me. I worked with him for about another
25 minutes or so and went up the climb in the second section with him. When
I reached the summit I decided I was working too hard because the pack was
so close behind. The rider I was with took off and I took it easy on the
descent where the pack caught me. I knew I was going to have to pay for that
gamble I took by going on the break...

Straight to the back of the pack I went and stayed. I did notice that the
field was a lot smaller now though, at least half the size it was at the
start of the race. I was struggling to hang on to the back of the peleton
and the only time when I didn't feel as weak was in the climbs. Coming into
the first section I saw the rider who I had worked with, he was getting
dropped so I went around him feeling a sense of pride that I was able to
hang on.

That pride went away fast as we headed towards section 2 through the flats
and rollers. At one point we were only going 17mph and I wanted the pack to
slow down, no, I needed the pack to slow down. Meanwhile, I was discovering
that my hands had blisters both in the webbing of my thumbs and along the
outside of my index fingers. It made for some interesting hand positions on
my handle bars for the remainder of the race. I stayed at the back of the
pack, which was now just about 16 riders, just waiting for someone to
attack, the pack to chase, and me to fall off the back. Luckily, none of
that happened.

I kept telling myself, survive until the climb in the second section - just
hang on until the climb. I knew that, for me, it would actually be a lot
easier to hang on once we hit the climb, and I knew that I would be able to
produce a strong sprint; I just had to survive and give myself the
opportunity to do so.

We came to the climb, and I felt bad starting it so I stayed at the back of
the pack. soon, 8 riders went off the front and I chased after them, having
no other choice....refluxing, cramping, groaning, blisters hurting. after
what seemed like forever, 9 riders went over the top and started the descent
together and I was one of them.


The descent was fast, but I just tucked in behind the group and hung on. I
actually tried attacking on the descent at one point (can you say dumb?) but
was embarrassed when I slowed down and choked before I could even get around
the leader. Next, I was getting anxious now starting the final uphill push
towards the finish line. Where is the 1K sign I kept wondering? I moved up
to the outside in about 5th position, but with a hole to jump to 1st if I
needed to. We went flying past the 1K sign.

I had made frequent mistakes in the past where I would be near the front,
someone would attack with about 500 yards or so to go, and I would let them
go and they would win. I told myself a few weeks ago after the McLane
Pacific Road Race that it would not happen again. A rider attacked with
about 1/2K to go. I jumped right on him and much to my surprise - I was
getting a lead out for the sprint! A perfect lead out actually, because he
died right at 200 yards. I blew right by him just after the 200 yard sign
and drilled it to the line. I sensed a rider trying to come by me, but I
just kept pushing. I threw my bike and crossed the line in first, with my
first road race victory as a Senior 3.

It's is now the evening of the day after the race. I'm sitting here at my
computer typing this up. Band-aids are covering my blisters; they still hurt
if you touch them in any way. It hurts to walk up the stairs to my bedroom;
I've asked for an escalator already but my dad just laughs as if I was
joking or something - I'm not. My fingers hurt to make a fist or
squeeze/grip anything from all the rough-roads and potholes and as you might
imagine my legs ache, just a bit.

But with a First Place finish in a field of 80 riders in the "Paris-Roubaix"
of California, who's complaining?

Eric Riggs

4/11/04



There is a nice picture of Eric winning the sprint
at Copperopolis here:
http://www.abbiorca.com/bike/road/r...04/all/source/c
opper_04_r_0650.html

Robert Chung

Bartow W. Riggs wrote:
> I seem to be extremely proud of my 16-year-old who is racing with people
> twice his age...he writes pretty well too...

Nice story. Congratulations to your kid, and to you.