It is late Saturday night as I type this. I raced today and I’m thinking back over the day. I’m thinking back over the year and looking into the future as well.
I got up early to go out to the campus of Brookwood Church in Simpsonville. At 7:30 a.m. there could be racers prepping for the Category 5 race coming in. The POA teammates were directing traffic at the entrance road that would cross over the race course to parking within its interior.
It was dark and cool when I arrived. I watched as the sun came over the horizon and contemplated the day. It was clear that things would be fast. The course is very smooth with only sweeping curves until you reach a chicane on the far side of the course. You take the sharp left into the S — though it is more like a Z — and then come out of it with a right turn into a climb. From there it is almost like riding on an oval until you reach the chicane again.
Pinning the number once again
I tried to read my feelings. I guess I would have to say I was nervous. The questions going through my mind were 1) how long could I hang with the these guys, and 2) would my nerves go on me when I came into the chicane in the midst of a crowd? I could see myself getting into the chicane and losing my nerve, which would cause me to back off and then it would be history.
What would the day hold?
By the way, a special thank you to Eddie Helton for the photos.
Finally, after a delay because the fields were being combined, I pulled up to the line. It felt normal to be there. Yes, I was still a little nervous, but it wasn’t the first time I’ve felt that.
We started off and the rider in front of me had trouble getting in his pedals. It caused me to have to balance awkwardly and I ended up having trouble getting into my own. As my right cleat was getting anchored to the pedal, the field was jumping out and away from me.
No problem, I was able to get back in with the top part of the second half of the field. It wasn’t really that bad. Immediately, I had teammates go off the front. The team then made its way to the front to try to control the pace. Some other riders wouldn’t have any of it and worked to bring them back. However, it was a comfort to me because I knew at this point, I wouldn’t have to feel guilty about not going up there to cover a break.
This is the fun part of racing.
Then it started. The pace was starting to wear on me. Again, this was nothing new. I’ve felt the feeling before. It is that feeling that your legs are going to explode. They feel like they are getting hard and each stroke is an effort. Still, I also know that I have often ridden through this to the other side and gone on to finish strong.
This time it wasn’t happening. I would work hard to stay in the group as we came out of the chicane. A couple times I got caught behind a rider that slowed creating a gap with the field speeding away toward the finish line. I had to work around those riders in order to stay up there. I knew if a gap ever formed, I would be toast.
The feeling wasn’t going away. My breathe started to come in gasps and I was tasting that “blood” taste in my mouth. I looked down at the clock. No way! It was only 10 minutes in!
The unfun part of racing.
Then it happened. I glanced behind me and there was no one else there. Coming out of the chicane and up the climb toward the finish, I could see the field begin to open a gap on me. I turned the pedals harder and managed to get up to the rear of the field by the time we reached the start/finish.
It didn’t last. I kept dropping farther and farther behind. Then I lost complete contact with the field. I knew it was over right then, but I kept trying to minimize the damage in hopes that I would finish.
Jae and Thomas are coming up to lap me.
Then on one lap I got passed by the two-man break — my teammates, Jae and Thomas. I knew the field would be coming soon. I was hoping they wouldn’t make contact with me in the middle of the chicane, so I picked up the speed a little more to clear the turns and move over.
Riding Sperry's wheel while a lap down.
As we came to the start/finish, I was caught and lapped by the field. As they came by, I heard John James yell, “Get back on the end of the field.” I did and was actually feeling pretty good. Steve Sperry was back there and so following his wheel I found a very smooth transition in and out of the chicane.
I was definitely still having to work, but I was starting to think that I might be able to finish the race — though a lap down. However, it was at that point something I didn’t anticipate happening started to pull me down. It finally caused me to pull out of the race.
Trying to give my neck some relief at the end of the race.
My two questions from earlier with answered. 1) My nerves were able to handle it and I believe I handled my bike well on the course. 2) I didn’t hang with the guys except for about 15 minutes before I got lapped. However, there was a spark there and I’m certain that once I’m back fit and training correctly, I will be able to add value to my team. What I didn’t count on was my neck giving me trouble.
Racing is a whole different ball game from the most intense individual efforts you can give. It is a 360 experience. It is physical, emotional, and mental. As I was working to stay with the field after being lapped, I started to feel the pain in the base of my neck. Then it started to work its way up — primarily on the right side. Then I could feel the pain moving up the back of my scalp and then finally rest in my forehead.
It was like a migraine and I wanted to lower my head to find relief. At that point, I did start to lose my nerve a bit. Putting my head down means I’m not looking where I’m going. That is how I ended up breaking my neck! Keeping my head up was painful. The pain in my legs and chest were things I have learned to live with — but those normal pains of racing combined with the pain from my neck injuries was a one-two punch that knocked me out.
I crossed the finish line for the last time about 25 minutes into the 55 minute criterium. It was over. Here later in the evening, I’m still feeling the pain in my neck, but I’m still feeling happy.
Yes, I didn’t finish. I did start. More importantly — I know this sounds strange — I had fun doing it. Sure, I would have had more fun had I finished, but my biggest, unspoken question was answered. Yes, I do still enjoy racing. Yes, I will do it again.
