Posted by Dan on 2. June 2010 15:51
Like last year, Memorial Day weekend came into focus with no local races in sight. Desperate to get our fast on, we turned to our friends in West Virgina and North Carolina for a bit of holiday competition. Frank and I were the only riders on the team hard/foolish enough to embark on an epic three-day tour of the Mid-Atlantic. The rest really missed out.
Photo courtesy of Dave Cobb @ Team Traveller.
First up was the Tour of Tucker County in Thomas, WV. Wick and I did this race last year and loved the fact that we both nearly died on the final climb. Wick was unable to get away from work, but nothing was going to keep me from being humbled by this stupid hill. Frank is always up for anything, so even though he knows he'll never be mistaken for a mountain goat, he eagerly charged head-first into West Virginia and a chance to vomit on Sugarlands Rd.
We drove to Harrisonburg the Friday night and set out for Thomas early Saturday morning. Writing this now, I realize it was the hotel's continental breakfast that is largely to blame for my lackluster performance later that day. Probably 50% was the breakfast, the other half was the bed linens. They were stiff and uncomfortable and if you've ever raced before, you know how important a good night's sleep is.
Photo courtesy of Dave Cobb @ Team Traveller.
Things kicked off with a riders' meeting in the parking lot of the Tucker County High School. All we heard was "pot holes", "roads are bad" (mmmkay?), "keep an eye out for wildlife" and that the center-line rule in full effect. From there we made our way down US-219 to Sugarlands Rd. and the descent to the start line. The trip down takes only a few minutes. It's the grind back up that'll kill you. One poor soul had to start his race on a loaner wheel after his carbon wheel exploded in a most spectacular fashion. Close examination of the carnage revealed the brake pad had melted to the rim. His wasn't the only casualty, just the only one I heard.
The 1/2/3s went off and we moved up. Another reading of the rules and a few minutes later we were off. We rolled easy down the rest of the hill and along the river to St. George where we'd make a right turn and immediately begin climbing. As I explained to Frank on the ride over, ad nauseum, you want to stay with the lead group, riding easy and letting them pace you up the hill. Start out as close to the front as you can without actually setting the pace, the slowly drift back. Come the summit, you'll be on the back or just off it and should be able to rejoin easily. Piece of cake.
Frank's calf seized half-way up and he got dropped. I followed my own advice until I thought it might be cool to try and attack a little bit. My attack was short lived and I found myself on the front pacing everyone else. I casually stepped aside and let a few riders by. The new guy on the front kicked it up a notch and just like that, I was off the back with more climbing to go.
The lead group got maybe 30 seconds ahead. A small group formed behind me and I began the chase. I had some help, but wound up doing way more work than I should have. We did eventually latch back on while still descending so it was going better than last year. We rolled down that hill doing better than 40 mph, watching for pot holes and bunny hopping gravel-filled gaps in the road. Eventually the main field slowed to a manageable pace while we made our way to the base of the final climb. I vividly recalled last year where I was caught off guard at the base when a small group silently dropped into their little rings and left us in the dust. This year I was ready AND rocking a compact. The grade kicked up (a lot) and we all hit the left shifter. Strangely enough, a good portion of the group still pulled away. There were 19 of us in the pack when we started climbing. We'd be completely torn apart in just a few minutes, the strong, light guys deftly pulling ahead while the rest of us dragged our heavy selves up that miserable hill.
Photo courtesy of Andrew @ WV Cycling.
Two riders in front of me assumed the role of rabbit as we passed the "1 mile to go" sign. I gave it everything I had, unsuccessfully trying to get out of the saddle and sprint for the line. Alas, I could only sit there, grinding away. They both beat me, leaving me with 12th place with a time of 1:53:40. 0:4:24 off last year's time. Just as I was about to go get the car and drive back to the finish so Frank wouldn't have to ride back the school, he comes rolling up the road and drifts effortlessly across the line. He'd clearly been through hell, but still finished strong. His time was 2:15:00 which put him in 47th.
Next year I'm shooting for top 5. Of course I'll probably be a Cat 3 and have to do the long route, but I've got a whole year to do as many bridge intervals as I can here at sea level. It'll be a piece of cake. Thanks to J.R. Petsko, the Appalachian Bicycle Racing Association and Thomas, WV for the race. You know we'll be back, no matter what category we are.
Thanks to Dave Cobb for pre-race pictures and some great shots on the final climb. See more of them here.
Andrew at WV Cycling had a prime seat for picture and video taking - passenger seat of the 4/5 wheel truck. See his pictures and video here.