Humble Pie

Annoyingly, I managed to catch a cold in the days leading up to Cherry Pie. I debated whether to pull out and recover fully, or to enact a cunning Kandra-esque ploy and race when sick and bugger the consequences. Of course, I decided to race. Excitement had been building throughout the men’s team for a few weeks with Rich declaring early on the he was riding and several others looking to give it a go – some racing for the first time.

Drove down with Rich in the ‘refrigerator box’, my affectionate term for his Honda Element. It has the significant advantage of cargo capacity to hold several bike upright in the back – no wheels on and off, just straight in and out - glorious!

We met the ‘iyans, (Ry and Bry) at RCB and caravanned down arriving a full 60 minutes before the race start. We picked up our numbers and I bumped into a few familiar faces, Todd, Brian, Eric, Jon, Einar. Also, found time to squeeze in a quick rub of the hammies by the massage dude on the table.

After a briefing on the rules by the officials and a plea not to be a dickhead on the road we were off. Mindful of JT’s advice about being close to the front at the start, I snagged the second row on the grid with Rich in the next row back. So far….so good. The long neutral ride took us to the start on Independence highway. Initially, the pace was very comfortable with few willing to do the work needed to force the pace (what’s new?). With the tailwind, I led off the front for a bit to see what would happen – and drifted slowly back when it was clear that no-one was keen on breaking away. It got more interesting at about the halfway mark when a couple of modest ‘big-chain ring’ rollers came along. A few attacked on the uphill portions stringing the pack out temporarily. The group came back together on the downward side of the rollers although it was quite tricky with all the breaking going on by the less experienced riders and there were a couple of close calls.

Managing to stay within the top 15, I took a pull and soon after lead off the front for a couple of minutes. They worked hard to catch me this time. This aggressiveness led to a couple of compliments that had me blushing like a tech schoolgirl with a crush on Mr Smith. I settled back in again and following another attempted breakaway by another rider settled into a good rhythm with some nice long pulls by myself and a couple of other riders. Only one arsehole wouldn’t let me slot back into 5th or 6th and my ‘angry’ rheumy eyes burned a hole in his bib shorts for a while until I turned my attention back to the job at hand. The ride had been not too strenuous until this point – certainly no worse than some of the HV training rides. I felt pretty good and not too impaired by the snot in my head that continuously being ejected in quanta from nose and mouth. It must have been a pleasant sight….errr…..not so much.

With two counts against me (fat and sick), I knew that the final climb would be a bastard for me unless I could string out the pack. So with about 6 miles to go I decided to make a final attempt to go off the front. This was a split decision – of the relevant organs, heart and articular cartilage agreed to go, quads and lungs disagreed, colon abstained. Brain cast the tie-breaker and said LETS GO…… so I took off and led with a sizeable gap (at least in my mind) for about 2 miles before they caught me (I swear I heard lungs rasp ‘ I told you so”). I knew then that my race was over. By the time we reached the Fire Station near the bottom of the climb I was still with them in body but not in spirit and sitting in about 10th place. The climbing began following a RH turn and I churned away with tired legs. About 20 skinny old dudes passed me on that first uphill section as I struggled to maintain speed yet not become too exhausted. Then following the brief respite that the flat section brought, I continued on after the RH turn and encouragingly, managed to pass a handful on the last uphill stretch. Bryan’s booming voice at the roadside was at the same time irritating and motivating (mirritating, perhaps?) and urged me to get out of the saddle. But to be honest - I couldn’t be arsed. I was clear of the next rider, who happened to be Rich, and didn’t feel like sprinting for a mid-field finish. I crossed the finish line exhausted in 25th place and immediately released another bolus of snot. I was done. Rich did a great job of staying with the lead group the entire race and finishing strongly.

Overall, I was happy to have mixed it up for 23 of the 25 miles but let myself down a little bit at the finish. Looking back, my quads and lungs were right - it was a mistake to lead off the front that last time so close to the end.