This past weekend marked my return to Atlanta (which seems to be turning into my second home) and more importantly my return to racing in preparation for nationals. Friday gave way too a heck of a good time at Red Light Cafe where Erica, the ever talented and lovely roommate of Kelly's showed how amazingly talented she is at the whole music thing. Check her out, she wont disappoint!
Saturday provided quite possibly the closest thing to hell-Esq weather possible. Thank god we had a nice unshaded highway road race to do! Yeah. Cool. TO make things better I ended up making the chase group of just three that spent the entire race dangling just 30 seconds off the winning break. 30 seconds... no big deal right? Hahaha. Yeah, big deal. After cursing myself for even making the split, let alone contributing stupidly to our futile death march to the finish, I crossed a good yet disappointing 6th place. Ill let the picture express how happy I was rolling across the finish.
The feeling I had the following morning for the crit was much much less than enthusiastic. After stumbling through Kelly's scrounging what I needed for whatever concoction of oatmeal I could create for the days meal, the two of us loaded up the pimp wagon saturn and headed for the race. 10 minutes into the sunny sunday morning drive I recieve what would be my most motivating and overjoying message imaginable:
"It's on like donkey kong...It's pouring rain at the course, hope your ready...kisses---Vito" ok, maybe I added the kisses. But it rained none the less.
After an hour and fifteen minute delay racing began. Plan was for me to try and force a move up the road, and if nothing was rolling then just set vito up for the sprint. Attempt after lazy assisted attempt three laps to go hit. I set up shop with vito just off the back of the Latino sprint train. On the final lap we were set perfectly for the win (mistake #1) , vito came along and told me to hop on his wheel, which I did. In turn two Latino pudgy sprinter overshot it and somehow kept it up, but dropped me right into the leadout train of Kanckle legged guys (mistake #2). Coming into the final turn vito came along side me and I knew it was on. I let a small gap open for him and next thing I know I am getting kamikazied by some Latino crackhead and heading for the curb. Rather than playing my normal yelling, elbow throwing self I check up (mistake #3 and biggest of all) from there it was 400 meters to the line. The sprint started, I missed it, and rolled in 7th. Bummer. Vito salvaged fourth on the day and end the end it turned out the way we thought it would. Could haves suck but I feel if I hadn't been dive bombed and if there had been money up on the finish I would have been on the podium or even better. Whatever. Finally I had to post the most imspiring explanation of crashing in bike racing I have ever heard courtesy of Jon Vaughters of slipstream...
"Next time your driving in your car at 50 mph, strip down to your underwear, open the door and jump out, thats what crashing in professional bike racing is like" Thanks John! Well said!
Photos courtesy of Kelly and truespeedphoto.com
Well for now this will have to do. Sorry for the long winded post, I am bored and waiting for my brunch to digest so I can go do my VO2 workout! Wahoo. Check back, more racing, boredom, and less than interesting babbling to come!
