Posted by Dan on 24. August 2010 08:35
The last time trial of the year would be a 40k jaunt departing from Stoney Creek and heading south alongside I-95 toward Emporia. Not only was it the state senior time trial championship, it was a Cycor Production so you KNOW it'd be good. I took second place as a Cat 4 last year and took home a check, a silver medal and some of the best lunch meat ever. Knowing what was on the line, I prepared for this race. I decided not to attend the Church Creek Time Trial (#2) in Maryland so I'd have fresh legs for this one. I convinced Frank to hold off on a trip to Wintergreen so I didn't have all that climbing acid lingering about when there was a Fiorucci meat bag on the line.
I flawlessly went through my checklist and did everything with plenty of time to spare. Following a good deal of stretching, I took the bike off the trainer, swapped wheels and got a little more warm-up on the road before lining up to start. I would be the last Cat 3 with only four Cat 1/2 riders behind me. No matter how bad I did, I could only be passed four times. That was nice.
I moved to the line when it was my turn. I was in the right gear. I made sure my PowerTap computer was on and pressed the lap button to accurately record my ride time. The display was set and my bike was held for me so I could get into position and clip in before my launch. Gilbert Craven gave me the countdown and off I went. I was very conscious of my power in the beginning so I quickly got up to speed and tapered off to just below threshold. I was feeling very good with this output which was surprising. My threshold was set on the road bike and due to an aggressive aero position, I have a hard time achieving that power for extended periods on the TT bike. The winds were blowing from the SSW at 5-6 mph which was both odd and welcomed. I understand the winds usually come from the west causing a pretty stiff crosswind mixed with a swirling wind from the passing trucks on I-95 making a ride with a rear disk difficult. The swirling winds were still there, but the dominant wind was in line with the road, more or less.
Also in line with the road was Mike Fawell as he came blasting by me. It wasn't that I'd been passed or even that I'd been passed before the midway point. What got me was that after he passed me, he stopped pedaling. Several times. Maybe this was a rhythmic pacing strategy - ten hard rotations followed by a few seconds of coasting. Dunno. What I do know is that I watched a guy coast away from me as I consistently put out 300+ watts. I'd have chased him down, but I was terrified I'd be DQ'd for following within 66 feet.
The turn around point was where all the action was. There were at least four volunteers in the road making riders aware of the upcoming turn and herding us into the left lane. I could sense they were all frustrated by the way they all yelled (what they yelled I couldn't say - all I could hear was the wind in my ears) and ran back and forth trying to create a channel for me to follow. The natural instinct for all of us was to follow the right side of the road and swing around, trying to maintain as much speed as possible, but they weren't having that. I did my best to follow their moving markers once I figured out what they were trying to do, but it's entirely likely I was one of those inattentive riders the sheriff wasn't happy with. Maybe a sign or volunteers that stand still and waved flags instead of dancing around the lane would help.
With the turn out of the way and the wind at my back, it was a straight shot home and that bag of meat. Though I was passed again by who I believe to be Robert Garwood, I was OK with it by now as I'd passed a few of my own. I was making great time on the way back. With a 25.5 mph average speed on the way out, I was hoping for a 29-30 mph average on the way back and wasn't too far off that.
With exactly 3.6 miles to go, I heard what no one wants to hear when in the middle (or 3.6 miles from the finish) of a time trial: the familiar hiss of a tire going flat. My rear tire had sprung a leak and was rapidly losing air. For a brief second I considered dismounting and walking to the line, trying to calculate what my time would be if I walked at 5 mph. While doing the math, I realized that I could continue to ride if I just held the wheel straight and avoided areas of the road angled toward the ditch. Though my speed was definitely lower, power output was not. I held the bars as straight as I could and motored to the finish line, stopping a few feet after the line and walking the bike back to the car, hoping my precious PowerTap wheel was not destroyed. There was just enough air left in the tube to prevent the rim from touching pavement. So I had that going for me, which is nice.
When the dust settled, the results had been posted. I did the 40k course in 0:56:41 with an average speed of 26.25 mph and took 8th place. After downloading the ride data into WKO+, I considered exporting it to Excel and modifying those last few miles to conservatively reflect my average speed prior to the flat so I could get a rough estimate of what my time would have been had I not flatted. Then I occurred to me that I really didn't care. Even if I came up with a model that could accurately predict my time, I'd still have no Fiorucci meat bag so what did it matter?
Changing the flat tube today, I found a tiny hole 6" from the stem a few mm from the seam on the inside of the tube. A tiny piece of glass must have found its way onto the rim tape and waited for the most inopportune time imaginable to pierce the tube. It seems the turnaround karma got me.
Posted by Dan on 24. August 2010 08:03
Local race number 2 for the weekend was the second PLT time trial. In true TT fashion, I'd be doing this one alone as my teammates are very intimidated by time trials or ashamed of their bodies in skinsuits. Who knows. Fortunately, I had Frank Deal (Atlantic Velo) and Joe Altomare (Hilton Cycling) to help make sure my number was straight and that I didn't forget my water bottle.
With nothing to gain by winning BAR or omnium points, I entered the 30+ category, even though the 35+ might have been more appropriate. I figured this category aligned with the BAR category and would consequently be more populated. Only four people signed up for this one; the rest flocking to the 35+. What I later learned was that for points distribution, they're combined so aside from increasing my chances of taking home a medal, it didn't really matter which one I signed up for.
Setting up the bike, I found that the all important front skewer I needed to hold my front wheel on was sitting at home, firmly lodged in a training wheel I was sure I wouldn't need. To my rescue came Fat Frog's rider Andy DeMarchena and the skewer from his own training wheel. Many thanks to Andy for his generosity despite me inadvertently shutting down his break the day before.
After a decent warm-up, I lined up behind Frank Deal and thought about how this go down. My last ride was 0:50:27 by far the best time I've ever done on this course. That time put me in the top 3 of the 1/2/3/4 field, so I thought I'd do alright. Because this was a state championship, there were a lot of "new" faces which meant, like every other race I've done since getting back from France, I had no clue.
I finished in 0:51:12. Not terrible, but 45 seconds off my previous time. I haven't figured out what to blame yet, but will post it as soon as I do. I took home the silver medal for the 30+ category and finished with the 5th best time in the 30+/35+ combined fields.
I find myself extremely motivated to begin my off season plan with the hope which is a great sign considering this season that started on February 14th is finally winding down. There's a small group of time trialists whose times are always a minute or two better than my own. Try as I might, I just can't catch them. Hopefully, a few months of dedicated threshold training will help bridge that gap and maybe, just maybe, break that 50 minute barrier.
Posted by Dan on 24. August 2010 06:33
Much to Wick's dismay, Frank and I took a pass on the Tour de Millersburg in scenic Pennsylvania and opted instead to support local race promoters at the Chesapeake Crit on Saturday and the Peter Teeuwen Memorial Omnium Time Trial #3 and Age-Graded State Championship (#1).
The Chesapeake Crit is a well attended three corner crit around City Hall in the Chesapeake Municipal Center. I've missed the last two editions, but remember this being a pretty fast course with a dangerous corner leading to the home stretch. As I recall, someone always overcooks the turn and goes over the curb and into the trees. While there were two crashes, none were in that corner so it's got that going for it, which is nice.
I started things off with the Masters 30+/40+ race. We did a good job keeping things together and managing the pace. Having another race less than 30 minutes after this one finished, I wanted to conserve a bit so I kept the heroic break attempts to a minimum. I did manage to get off the front alone once and did a lap or two solo, waiting for someone, anyone, to come up and share the work, but I was stood up. Later, I went with Jeff Craddock of Greenbrier Pawn. Our effort was short lived and we returned to the field. Sometime later with a few laps to go, there was a crash leading into the third corner when someone on the left entangled bars with a rider to his right, causing a domino effect spanning the width of the road. Poor Ed McNellis of Team Nature's Path/3 Sports was on my wheel and became the last domino to go down. Fortunately he made it up and into the next race. Several others did not and we wish them a speedy recovery. I know my position was no where near ideal going into the last corner, but I figured I'd sprint it out and gain some spots in the final stretch. I finished 13th and tired.
Me, all fat, dumb and happy to be off the front. I do this solely for the photo ops.
After a couple kids' races and a Celebrity Race, the Pro/1/2/3 field lined up. This would be my first race with such talent and I was absolutely clueless as to what to expect. From watching these guys in the past, I anticipated there being numerous attempts at a break with the fourth or fifth succeeding. Given the large team turnout, there'd be a good effort by anyone not included in that break to chase them down. Their efforts would keep the field low and thin so all I had to do was pick a wheel and hold on for dear life.
What really happened was a break of four went up the road following a small crash after turn 3. With riders from Atlantic Velo, Mountain Khakis, Battley Harley Davidson and Richmond Pro Cycling in the break, there weren't a lot of volunteers to crank it up and chase them down. Rather than a nice strung out pencil-thin line, the main field would bunch and stretch, bunch and stretch, eying each other with suspicion and waiting for someone else to pull through with dreams of shutting down the break. I found plenty of opportunities to move up but found little reason to do so. I saw quite a few riders disappear into the void behind me and was hoping thirty or so more would follow them while I saved what few matches I had left.
With less than ten laps to go, Adam told me to "Get up there and help Andy!" Andy DeMarchena of Fat Frogs had tried to bridge up solo and was floating around in no-man's land. Happy to oblige a command from the team's photographer, I launched my effort with a dramatic jump that shocked even me. I heard Ruth Stornetta announce my actions to the crowd as I went streaking by the officials' tent. Around turn 1 and Andy was within reach. He looked back and slowed up. Turning my head, I saw why. The field had grabbed my wheel as I went by as with what seemed like minimal effort. So much for my reindeer games. As punishment for shutting Andy down, I relegated myself to the back of the field.
Bell lap, we rounded the corner and got ready to sprint. When I stood up, my old friends the hamstring cramps showed up and waved hello. I'm getting very good at hiding the agony of bilateral leg cramps. I relaxed and rolled across the line in 42nd place alongside the COOL people.
While I cleaned up and changed, Frank got ready to do battle in the Cat 4 race. Shortly after Jerry Hadley of Tripower and Bryan Hoy of JRVS took off. They opened a very nice gap and it was clear that without a good organized effort from the group, they'd make it stick. Our boy Frank led the charge by moving to the front, unzipping his jersey (see below) and dropping the hammer. Unfortunately for Frank, the two guys up the road were doing an incredible job working together. I've worked with Jerry in a race last year (albeit on the wrong side of the peloton) and knew Frank would need help. Unfortunately, aside from Fat Frogs' Tim Pope, there weren't many riders willing to jump on the front and work like a dog.
Frank earning his paycheck.
This story had a sad ending. Jerry and his break-mate survived. The main field broke into a sprint but Frank had nothing left in the tank after working so hard to reel the leaders in. Frank made a pro move and sat up, coasting across the line. He looked so cool doing so that the officials scored him as a DNF, but I'll attest to his finishing on the lead lap. It was almost as though he had a pair of hamstring cramps preventing him from getting out of the saddle.
Adam contemplating his next shot.
Finally, we are sad to say goodbye to teammate and photographer Adam Leopold. Adam just completed a cross-country trip with brother Justin - another displaced teammate - which is when he became smitten with Vail, Colorado. He applied for and was given a job with the Fire & Rescue department so there you go. Adam's spending his days riding up and down mountain roads and his "off time" waiting for fire alarms to go off. Maybe he'll open a bike shop and give riding lessons to the rich and famous. Adam & Justin - we wish you both the best of luck and you'll both be missed. Oh, and Frank DID cry so you both owe me $5.
Next up: Peter Teeuwen Memorial Omnium Time Trial and Age-Graded State Championship.
Posted by Dan on 12. August 2010 04:28
After spending a month kicking around France, I was looking forward to getting back to racing. Despite having one of those fancy international licenses and a foreign permission letter from USA Cycling, the French didn't want me racing with them unless I joined a local team and applied for an FFC license. Moving around each week made that difficult so I made due with L'Etape du Tour Mondovelo and a ton of long rides up and down various mountains. My first race after returning was scheduled to be our Campus Crit at ODU, but a misunderstanding between campus and city police departments killed that one. Page Valley would have to do.
Not exactly the French Alps, but it'll do.
I've been looking forward to the Page Valley Road Race all year. My first attempt last year came to a miserable end when my heart rate approached its max while coasting deep in the pack on a flat section. It was hot and I was sick. I completed one and a half laps. This year I'd do better despite it being my first race since crashing at Reston and my first Cat 3 race.
Come race time, I was feeling good. Things got started with a neutral roll-out. Once we were firmly planted on the course and in the right lane, the pace turned up a bit but remained manageable. We had 63 miles to go - no point in burning matches now. I had absolutely no idea what to expect from this group. I didn't know any of the faces and had no clue which wheels were the ones to watch. My strategy was heavily dependent on attrition from the climbs and trust that the field would reel in any breaks in due time. With each lap, we'd shell a few riders and the main field quickly shrank from its original 75+ while none of the breaks stuck.
Trudging up the second climb on each lap, we were afforded the opportunity to take on food and water. Lydia and Frank were working the zone to bring me the various bottles of race-time nutrition. I rode through the zone twice and took bottles the other times.
On the fourth lap, I passed on fresh bottles and worked my way toward the front. Once near the front, I tried my favorite Cat 4 move - the one where you try to sneak off alone while others feast on gels and bananas. No big attacks, just a nice consistent effort. I didn't get away; not even a little bit. I eased off the gas and eventually pulled off to the left. Immediately, my left hamstring cramped something fierce. Relaxing the left leg, I drifted to the back forcing the muscle to release to minimize the work I'd have to do to catch back on. Fortunately, the timing was perfect and I jumped on the last wheel just as I regained use of the leg. I immediately consumed everything in my pockets and bottles and planned to take whatever bottle was offered when we made it to the feed zone.
As we approached the feed zone, I dropped back and got both bottles out. I handed them off to Frank because I just couldn't justify throwing them while doing 6 mph at the back of the feeders. I took something from Lydia and set out to catch back on as the main field Contadored me and left me for dead. With the ever present threat of an aftershock, I favored my left leg making the catch a little harder. With a little help on the false flat following the descent, I did catch back on and set out to recover the best I could before the final attack on the final climb. The first climb was easy enough and I began moving up. We hammered down the descent and around the second-to-last corner, then delicately took the final turn. A hundred meters or so and we'd begin the final ascent. A hundred meters beyond that and the sprint would begin. Trusting that the center-line rule would relax during the sprint, I positioned myself on the left side, about 15 wheels off the front. As the left-hand bend came into view, the sprint began. 27 of us stood up and hoped we'd chosen the gear that would get us to the finish before the rest. As the main field quickly picked up speed, one rider remained behind with an awful grimace on his face. This rider was in terrible pain and completely shocked that his legs would betray him at such a crucial time in the race. The pack rode off at 15 mph while he paper-boyed his way up the hill at 3. Yes, that guy was me. Frank crossed the road to offer the support of a cold water bottle and was greeted with the threat of a punch to the mouth if he did it. Frank isn't afraid of punches to anything so he dumped the water on my head. Instantly, the cramps were gone and I motored up the hill to finish the race in 27th place, about 30 seconds behind the main field.
So goes my first Cat 3 race and my second attempt at the Page Valley Road Race. Third time's the charm, right? And no, Frank never did get that punch in the mouth.
Frank did however get a chance to contest the other Cat 4s on the same course a few hours later. Steve Monk and Mike Shipp both lined up with him and a bazillion others. All three would finish the race after four and a half laps despite an attrition rate of nearly 50%. Frank hung in with the lead group and finished 16th - one place away from omnium and BAR points. Frank likes to be reminded of this fact often.
Photo by Dave Cobb of Team Traveller
Flash forward to Sunday and Luray, VA. The inaugural running of the Luray Criterium was looking like a winner. The course resembled Waynesboro with a steep 7% climb lasting roughly one block followed by a short little climb and then a lot of descending before doing it all over again.
Photo by Jim Wilson
I got things rolling with the Masters 35+ 3/4 race. This was the only masters race of the day and I really don't know why it was scheduled, but I'm not one to turn down a race so away we went. There were twenty or so of us in the first race. I failed to clip in and found myself on the back of the pack right out of the gate. It took me three laps to reach the front and I didn't leave that position for the rest of the race. There were a few riders that would move around, sharing the work, but I feel like I was out there an awfully long time. The field was decimated and only about ten of us remained on the bell lap. I was on the front headed into the final turn and was quickly passed as we began the climb for the last time. I wound up in 6th place and won a pair of socks as a prime.
Frank did the Cat 4 race later that afternoon. His race was a lot like mine - a herd of 30 riders started. More than half fell victim to a gnarly pace up that hill leaving only eight riders in the lead group and a few stragglers which were eventually pulled. The final sprint found Frank in 4th place. He was very happy with that, though a mis-shift at the front derailleur might have cost him a better finish.
Photos by Dave Cobb of Team Traveller
Finally, my Cat 3 race felt a lot like penance for things that I would never ever do. This field was larger than my earlier race, composed of riders seriously jockeying for omnium points. That would mean we'd be sprinting for KOM points on the prime laps and team tactics would be much more prevalent. Hanging out near the back (because I'm cool like that), I had a great time burning matches on each corner and muscling my way up the climb while a small break went off the front from the gun. That break would eventually be nullified due to a flat only to regenerate - again unnoticed by me as I desperately clung to the back of the main field. Riders dropped off with each lap until there was one rider in a solo break, one chasing and a group of about eight. Everyone else was presumed pulled. Moments before we were lapped, the leader crossed the finish line for the last time allowing us to sprint for 2nd. The chaser took that and I launched myself up that hill one last time to secure 6th place - again. No socks this time.
With that came the end of our big adventure in Page Valley and my return to racing. Clearly I needed more time in the Alps and Pyrenees as the climbing I did didn't take. This week calls for high temps and a little recovery before the Chesapeake Crit on Saturday and PLT #3 on Sunday.
Posted by Dan on 28. June 2010 18:15
Flash forward to Sunday. Even though they were nearly killed by a pair of idiots that should never have been given a license, both Frank and Steve joined Wick and I for a delightful romp through the streets of the Town Center in Reston, VA. The RGS Title Reston Town Center Grand Prix 2010 was held in scorching heat (and not the dry kind, either) on the same course as last year. Fortunately the roads were dry this time. No one wants a crashfest, right?
Me and 95 of my closest friends lined up for the Cat 4 race. Wick and I were going to lay down a barrage of attacks to thin the herd, as any rider deemed out of contention would be pulled. Within three laps, I found myself off the front, alone again (naturally). I patiently waited for someone to bridge up, anyone, but I had no takers. I lasted a total of 6 laps before drifting back for some R&R. Wick made a few good efforts but ultimately they were reeled in. About half way through the race, Steve got gapped and was pulled and Frank joined him shortly after, citing hand problems. The bruise on his left hand looked a lot like Capt. Jack Sparrow's black spot.
Kraken's coming.
With 8 or 9 laps to go and a solo rider off the front, I was ready to bridge up. I'd worked with this guy in an earlier break when the other half dozen or so guys wouldn't, so I knew he'd welcome the company and wouldn't sit up in the middle of his pull. As I moved to the outside to begin my move, Wick jumped out with the idea to chase the leader down, setting me up for my own solo effort. The two of us moved up just after crossing the start finish line headed toward turn 1, maybe three or four wheels back. Just as we leaned in to make the turn, Wick was taken out by a rider immediately behind him who didn't see the corner coming because his head was down. He hit Wick's rear tire. I went down immediately after and judging by the marks on my back, was hit by two other cyclists; one of which entangled his bike with mine. We all eventually got up to the sound of our Chief Ref telling us to "GET TO THE PIT!" Unfortunately, some of us were hurt and most of us had to make adjustments to our bike before we could move toward the pit which was at least three city blocks away. The pack had 8 to go and the free laps ended with 7 to go. We had to somehow limp to the pit faster than the chasing peloton could make it around roughly the same distance. Guess what happened.
When I arrived at the pit, I was told I couldnt' have a free lap because the group had only 7 to go, but I could keep racing and that I was wasting time standing there. Taking the hint, I mounted my broken bike and took off. As I came around turn 8, I could hear announcer Joe Jefferson telling me to clear the course. I got within shouting distance of an assistant ref and told her I'd move if I was pulled. She confirmed I was pulled so I hauled myself onto the curb as the leader went by with the chasing peloton of 20 or so followed about 10 seconds behind. Nick Sachanda would eventually win solo with the chase group coming within 3 seconds or so. Nice job.
And with that, our Fun in the Sun came to an end. We dressed our wounds, passed bottles to Kyle Knott and Mike Stoop because they looked like they needed them, and got ourselves a sammich before heading back to the coastal paradise we call home. I can finish putting the Madone together and pack it up for France. I'll be doing the A.S.O. L'Etape du Tour - you'll see it as Stage 17 of the TdF departing Pau and finishing atop Col du Tourmalet. At least the course will be well marked. I can't say all of the 9,000+ riders will be watching where they're going though. See you in August at the Campus Crit at ODU. Registration is open now!
Posted by Dan on 28. June 2010 18:10
Following the disappointment of my erroneous navigation, I went home and bought a Garmin 705. Mostly for France, but maybe for Smithfield too. While keeping an eye on usacycling's Twitter updates, I anxiously waited for the results of the elite men's nats where Ben King was off the front alone with a 2:00+ gap. Literally 5 seconds after I see the tweet declaring him the winner, I get a phone call from Frank. "You're calling to tell me Ben King won the road race?" "No," he says. "We got hit by a car. Come and get us." Oof.
He and Steve M. had gone for a ride and were both hit by a two guys in a late model gray/silver Jeep Cherokee. They think they first encountered him immediately after turning left off of Miller Store Rd. at the airport. The driver pulled up along side and shouted something unintelligible, then turned left on Military Hwy. and was gone. Frank and Steve continued on Robin Hood Rd. headed toward home. After crossing over Sewells Point Rd., the jeep returned and steered toward the right curb where the two were riding, hitting Steve, who was on Frank's wheel, in the rib cage with the passenger's side-view mirror and then hit Frank with the bumper of the car. Neither was able to stay up (go figure) and they went down.
A witness and her son checked to make sure they were OK, then sped after the jeep. She was able to get a partial license plate (XKT-49??) and share a few words with the driver (like "The cops have been called! You'd better go back! You hit them!" and a reply of "No, I didn't hit anyone!") before he sped away and she returned to the scene. Norfolk Police are trying to track these guys down for any number of charges. Frank's hand is broken, he's got road rash and bruises in various places and his bike looks a bit worse. Steve's in similar shape. If you have any information at all that might help the police find these guys, please let us know or call the Norfolk Police Department's Detective Division at 757-664-7036.
Let's wrap this weekend up with Part 3.
Posted by Dan on 28. June 2010 17:59
July is right around the corner and that means le Tour kicks off next weekend. The coolest thing about this year's tour is that I'll be there. I'll be on the Champs Elysées come the finale, too. Vacation of a lifetime and I'm ready to go. But before our flight leaves, I have a few races to knock out. Then I can pack up the bike and research my routes.
Saturday was Virginia Beach Wheelmen's Smithfield HAMmer Fest Two-Man Team Time Trial. I'd enlisted teammate John Lomogda to ride with me in the 2-man men's open category on the condition that we could get an early start time so he could make an early afternoon wedding. Joshua Goyet hooked us up with a 10:02 AM start time - second team off the line for the day. So far so good.
John and I had every intention of getting together sometime during the week and getting some miles in, practicing drafting in the aero position, timing and rotation. Unfortunately, preparing the office for a month-long absence took a lot longer than I thought so we missed our practice ride. Instead, we met up in Smithfield at 7:30 and got in a good practice ride before a more focused warm-up. After riding the first 5 miles or so, we both had a pretty good idea of how it'd go with the understanding we'd let it evolve as necessary.
We took off at 10:02, one minute after the first team. We quickly settled into a comfortable rotation schedule and were fully prepared to give it hell in "every man for himself" fashion should Dogzilla make another appearance. This quivering, snarling white-hot ball of canine terror launched out of his yard to greet us on our pre-ride so the pucker factor was slightly elevated. He was a no-show at game time and we moved on. With a polite "on your left" per their request, we overtook the first team and set out on our own, now further into the course than we'd made it during our earlier ride.
Long story short, we started passing riders going the other way. We followed the cones around a corner and met Joshua and the Chief Ref who told us we'd missed a turn. There'd been cones marking what appeared to be a left-hand turn so we did that. It turns out there was an arrow painted on the ground instructing us to go straight while the cones were there to direct returning riders through the right-hand turn that would point them to the finish line. We arrived at the intersection sooner than expected and beat the corner marshal by what sounded like less than a minute. After stopping to get the details of our mistake, then stopping again to chat with another corner marshal experiencing a bit of frustration of her own, we tucked in and finished our training ride, completing the entire course, albeit backward, in 1:06:57. Very disappointing. We were flying and John informed me he had plenty of juice in reserve for the last 20 minutes.
John on the home strech.
Me on the home stretch.
We'll be giving the TTT another shot come Church Creek in a few months and you KNOW we've got a score to settle with the Smithfield course next year.
Part 2 of this exciting weekend.