Throw Your Hands in the Air If You Just Don't Care - Notorious B.I.G.

Although I usually like to refrain from blogging race recapitulations, this past weekend was just too extraordinary—extraordinarily comical—not to.

The weekend of collegiate racing in Grand Junction, CO kicked off for Brad, Dan Workman, Phil and I on Saturday with a road race. Brad and I had been developing grandiose schemes of how, when, and where we were going to blow up the field in the road race. Well, our first plan was on the climb 2 miles after the start, so Brad went to the front and upped the tempo and strung out the field then we hit a left hand switchback as we rode upwards and I got out of the saddle and threw down an attack to string the field out more. We essentially kept the field strung out over the top wherein Dan, Brad, and I took turns covering and initiating breakaways. I followed the acceleration of a Fort Lewis rider and the two of us rode away. We spent the remainder of the roughly 70 miles off the front. Coming into the finish it was just the two of us; our gap over the eventual third place rider was over 4 minutes. We played cat and mouse trying to out-strategize one another for the win, we played the brake check game briefly (we were going so slow because neither one of us wanted to be in the front that we were slamming on our brakes), then I guttered it in the crosswind and just decided that rolling in he would have to come around me windy side in order to sprint and I would be able to sit non-windy side, get the draft and MAYBE get a sprint win. Well, I shall never again gamble on myself in a sprint because I lost the two-up sprint. Next time, I will time trial to the finish and shell the rider I’m with.

Saturday afternoon was a team time trial, which went well. Dan, Brad, a dude named Fuzzy, and myself won convincingly. We put 2 minutes into the second place team over the course of the approximately 10 miles.

Sunday was a criterium in downtown Fruita. Unfortunately, I did not have time to talk to Tater, the mentally impaired, colorful downtown Fruita fixture that is out at the race every year, but as entertaining a fellow as he is, I, unknowingly, was holding onto a ticket to a Sunday matinee of a “dark comedy”. Orders for the criterium were to keep the field together and get the green CSU train rolling to lead out Phil for the sprint victory. With two and a half laps to go I came to the front to start the lead out and took just about a full lap on the front stringing the field out. Apparently our train was a sight to behold as with only two and a half laps left we shredded the field down to half the size it had been. Dan Workman took over with one and a half to go followed by Brad Cole, then Fuzzy, then Dan Lionberg… then Phil. After my job was done, I pulled to the side of the road and waited for Lionberg to barrel out of the final corner with Phil in tow. Sure enough, there they were with a Mesa State rider right behind Lionberg and Phil and a huge gap after them. As Phil sprinted to the line he glanced over his shoulder and only saw Lionberg and started celebrating with 30 meters to go, unfortunately he did not see the Mesa State rider who ended up passing him for the win. Here’s the moment of realization…

Here’s the moment of agony…

But at least it was not as bad as this…

After the race my thoughts immediately shifted to myself and how horrible it was going to be being Phil’s roommate since his dour disposition was something with which I would have to contend. I will now most likely be seeking a new residence after Phil reads this… someone, anyone, please take me in…

Patrick