Posted by Dan on 21. March 2011 23:29
For the second time in as many years, Richmond's largest team hosted a race at the world famous Richmond International Raceway. They also rallied every single member, past, present and future, to show up in the new Richmond Velo Sport kit, creating a giant wave of orange that washed over the banked turns, striking panic in the hearts of anyone that's been watching the horror in Japan. It's like a Tangerine Tsunami coming to smash your hopes and dreams.
Frank, Andrew and I ventured westward, seeking fame, fortune and maybe some kick-ass pictures to replace our header which prominently displays Wick in our old kit. Andrew's goal was of course a win, but more importantly, this race would bring him one mass start closer to an upgrade. Frank and I race for the sheer pleasure of it so we had no real goals, other than to not finish last. How humiliating would THAT be?
My pre-race excuse developed while putting the bike together. The PowerTap in my race wheel refused to be discovered by the CycleOps computer. I replaced the batteries (twice) and still nothing. I raced with the training wheel in the rear (yes, I'm a slave to data. So what?) and a Hed Stinger 6 in the front. The psychological damage this mismatched pair caused me was immeasurable and would no doubt be the cause of any negative outcome in today's races.
Frank in a break. You can tell by the erect posture and hands on the hoods.
First up was the 3/4 combined field of 93 riders. Awesome. Biggest field of the day and it contained more than a few new 4s. Aside from the fact that absolutely nothing was going to get away, it was a relatively easy race. Moving around was never a problem with a 60' wide course. Should you be forced to the outside of a turn, dropping back in down the 14° embankment put you right back where you started. The light wind down the finishing straight caused a bit of huddling coming out of turn 4, but it was easy and fast. Average speed was 26.9 mph for this 1 hour race. Frank and I took turns attacking, bridging and chasing, but found it oh-so-easy to sit in and let one of the other 91 fools take a turn. It took me awhile to figure out that the pace wasn't going to calm down enough to allow an escape attempt. I tried more than I should have and didn't get away clean nearly as often as I'd have liked. With every remaining lap starting with 10 to go, the field got more and more sketchy. Lots of unnecessary contact way too long before the bell lap. I remembered last year's spectacular Cat 5 demolition derby and drifted up in turn 2, putting me safely in the back third of the field. Trying to move up from there on the bell lap was pretty much impossible so I called it a day and sat back to watch, finishing DFL. D'oh! What makes this even worse is that I had to listen to Frank call everyone in his address book and cheerfully exclaim "I beat Dan!" all the way back to Norfolk.
Andrew draggin' the 5s.
Andrew raced next. The Cat 5s have a full 50 riders - the most the law will allow. Things looked good for our teammate. He tried a break, led the field and then wisely sat in to await the finish. A crash in turn 1 brought the ambulance out and halted the race, requiring a restart 20 minutes into a 30 minute race. Once it was established everyone was OK (but not every frame, if you know what I mean), the race restarted. More sketchiness coming into turn 4 caused Andrew to seek high ground and let the sprint unfold beneath him. At least he didn't finish last.
Minding my own business. Photo probably stolen from Kevin Horvath.
While Andrew raced, I rested up for the P/1/2/3 race. I somehow convinced Frank to enter it, promising riches beyond his wildest imagination if he could manage to win, which should be a piece of cake because he's all warmed up. Joke was on me because I had to pay half his entry fee. This event was 80 minutes long and averaged 27.2 mph for the duration. Sorry, no "yay". I had absolutely no expectations of leaving this field behind so I raced much more conservatively. I actually felt, dare I say, good? After the initial twenty minutes of blistering speed, the attacks started. Hard to break away doing 28 in a tailwind, but they tried. I spent far less time on the front this time around. The one break I did manage to get myself into seemed like the most promising, with only 10 or so laps to go. Unfortunately, I was dropped. I made it back to the pack just in time for them to decide to "reign 'em in." And they did just that. The break was caught in just a tad over no time. I remember nothing about the bell lap. I might have finished in the pack, behind or possibly under it. Anyone's guess, really.
Not sure why I failed so miserably to race this lousy course, but I'm going to hone some as of yet unknown supernatural power and seek revenge on everyone that finished in front of me in that 3/4 race. ESPECIALLY Frank.
Jeff Cup is next this coming Sunday and maybe the Walton Park Crit in Mineral, VA.