O
Off The Back
Guest
OK, in the spirit of today's rbr race reports, I'll go next...
Sunday's 80-mile pro/1/2 road race at San Luis Rey (north county San Diego);
50-60 starters, no sign of ST or Kurgan.
We begin near the end, Memento style... On what I thought was the last
11-mile lap, I began sitting on the winning break of Dave Clinger (Rock
Racing), Ben Brooks (Type 1), and Adam Livingston (5-Star). No complaints
from them; it was clear I wouldn't be contesting the sprint. I'd slide off a
bike length each time one of them came to the back. Their rotation was
beautifully smooth, and I was getting mesmerized by it. None of them ever
skipped a turn, despite obvious suffering. I thought about offering fluid or
gels--a token contribution at least--but then decided against it. The gap to
the chase group was a couple minutes and we weren't going to get caught.
Unfortunately, I had to let go on the gradual stair steps in the last mile.
Just too wasted from the earlier efforts. Up ahead, Clinger won the sprint,
followed by Livingston and Brooks. I crossed the line next and I went
straight to the officials and pleaded my case. "PLEASE let me be done!" Oh
yeah, I forgot to mention that the three-man break had lapped me. In a road
race. On an 11-mile course... "Can't I finish on the same lap as the
leaders?", I begged. They gave me a definitive "NO!", so I soldiered on
alone for another lap, ultimately finishing 30th, one spot out of the
Lantern Rouge.
Now, I wouldn't have gotten lapped if not for a desperately-needed
porta-potty stop about half-way through the race. Even under the best
conditions, pee'ing off the bike is tough for somebody my age, but Sunday
was really windy and attempting it would have either: (A) caused a crash,
resulting in me getting beat up; (B) sprayed somebody else, resulting in me
getting beat up; or (C) dribbled into my shoe, resulting in pee in my shoe.
I decided it was best to stop.
The pee break was so desperate because I had downed a couple liters of
cytomax and V-8 immediately before the start. I figured I needed to
rehydrate from the morning, when I did the 46-mile Masters Fatty event.
I didn't get lapped in that race. In fact, shockingly, I won the field
sprint for 2nd place. I say shockingly because I was probably the littlest
guy in the field and had been suffering nasty muscle cramps the final lap.
(Thus the later indulgence of V-8 and cytomax.)
But even more shocking to me was the physical appearances of the 60-70 guys
lined up at the start. I had been assured by rbr that everyone in a Masters
race would be grossly obese (and on beautiful $10,000 bikes). Apparently
these guys didn't get the memo because most were lean and ripped (and on
beautiful $10,000 bikes). I was disgusted and disappointed.
Mark
http://marcofanelli.blogspot.com
Sunday's 80-mile pro/1/2 road race at San Luis Rey (north county San Diego);
50-60 starters, no sign of ST or Kurgan.
We begin near the end, Memento style... On what I thought was the last
11-mile lap, I began sitting on the winning break of Dave Clinger (Rock
Racing), Ben Brooks (Type 1), and Adam Livingston (5-Star). No complaints
from them; it was clear I wouldn't be contesting the sprint. I'd slide off a
bike length each time one of them came to the back. Their rotation was
beautifully smooth, and I was getting mesmerized by it. None of them ever
skipped a turn, despite obvious suffering. I thought about offering fluid or
gels--a token contribution at least--but then decided against it. The gap to
the chase group was a couple minutes and we weren't going to get caught.
Unfortunately, I had to let go on the gradual stair steps in the last mile.
Just too wasted from the earlier efforts. Up ahead, Clinger won the sprint,
followed by Livingston and Brooks. I crossed the line next and I went
straight to the officials and pleaded my case. "PLEASE let me be done!" Oh
yeah, I forgot to mention that the three-man break had lapped me. In a road
race. On an 11-mile course... "Can't I finish on the same lap as the
leaders?", I begged. They gave me a definitive "NO!", so I soldiered on
alone for another lap, ultimately finishing 30th, one spot out of the
Lantern Rouge.
Now, I wouldn't have gotten lapped if not for a desperately-needed
porta-potty stop about half-way through the race. Even under the best
conditions, pee'ing off the bike is tough for somebody my age, but Sunday
was really windy and attempting it would have either: (A) caused a crash,
resulting in me getting beat up; (B) sprayed somebody else, resulting in me
getting beat up; or (C) dribbled into my shoe, resulting in pee in my shoe.
I decided it was best to stop.
The pee break was so desperate because I had downed a couple liters of
cytomax and V-8 immediately before the start. I figured I needed to
rehydrate from the morning, when I did the 46-mile Masters Fatty event.
I didn't get lapped in that race. In fact, shockingly, I won the field
sprint for 2nd place. I say shockingly because I was probably the littlest
guy in the field and had been suffering nasty muscle cramps the final lap.
(Thus the later indulgence of V-8 and cytomax.)
But even more shocking to me was the physical appearances of the 60-70 guys
lined up at the start. I had been assured by rbr that everyone in a Masters
race would be grossly obese (and on beautiful $10,000 bikes). Apparently
these guys didn't get the memo because most were lean and ripped (and on
beautiful $10,000 bikes). I was disgusted and disappointed.
Mark
http://marcofanelli.blogspot.com
