Race Report: Central Park 4/4

After the mediocre race Saturday, I was amped when I woke up at 3:45am Sunday morning. In a previous race report, I mentioned a certain breakaway I barely hung onto, and the fellow who initiated it contacted me after finding this blog. So after a barrage of e-mails, we resolved to work together in breaking from the field Sunday, giving me lots to ponder and prepare for leading up to the race.

I made my way over the williamsburg bridge (which, incidentally they've just today begun to resurface and re-stripe in a hopefully safer manner) into the eerily desolate streets of Manhattan, and took 1st ave pretty much all the way to the park. Funny thing about 1st on a Sunday at that hour is most people you see on the sidewalk are wasted and most of the cars you see are cops keeping them in check.

Kind of odd to be the only leaving home instead of struggling toward it...

I got to the start a little too early, I guess, because the organizers were just starting to place the cones out on the course when I made it to the park... I sat around eating apples and bananas waiting for them to finish setting up the check-in table...

I putzed around for a while, did a real fast warm-up lap, took a whiz, and ate another banana before it was starting to get crowded with racers.

We all lined up for the start, same as at Prospect Park, though this time behind the masters (35+). I guess the commissaire thought our fields were too small so he announced that we (the 5's) would be "racing with" the masters though scored separately. This of course elicited groans of irritation from the masters and clacking of kneecaps from the 5's.

I guess it would've possibly been more accurate for the commissaire to say "a few of the 5's will be racing with the masters, the rest of you are fucked."

At the whistle, the pace was almost 30mph. I'm not certain, but I think a LOT of the 5 field got dropped right then and there. I settled in behind my new acquaintance as we were still planning on trying our attack sometime around the second lap. we sat in the peloton and I was surprised at how much effort was required to stay in contact with these old farts - they were truckin!

I definitely didn't completely cast off any intention of attacking but by the end of the first lap, I knew it wouldn't stick; I was already feeling a little tired from the maniacal pace being set and there was no way we'd stay away with the peloton moving so fast.

On the hill at the second lap I followed my wheel up through the field a bit and saw the orange jersey of the Champion System guy from the day before driving the pace on the front again. No wonder we were going so fast. His m.o. is to ride away solo, but the masters weren't having any of that nonsense, keeping him reeled in the whole time.

At this point I began to notice that I couldn't see that many category 5 numbers (they give each category a different color, the masters are all different colors); I knew of the Champ-Sys guy, my Kissena friend, myself and I kept seeing one other guy, but that was about it. I immediately recognized why it was I was feeling so good about this race: I was riding with sane, skilled racers who hold their lines and stay out of trouble.

By the time the third lap came around I was simultaneously deep in concentration trying to place myself well for the final lap (oh yeah, I forgot to mention, we never attacked; I knew it was a pipe-dream from the moment the pace settled in) and also having the time of my life zipping around, not worrying so much that some noob was going to slide out in front of me.

We crossed the line and the pace jumped again, as we passed the reservoir I looked down at the speedometer and I was registering at 33.5mph on a flat (whoa). I tried to follow my wheel up through the field but he passed someone right before a turn and another rider compressed in front of me so I lost contact with my only ally.

I did a mid-field attack of sorts to try and move up into the leadout, where I was supposed to be. This was a mistake because immediately following that we entered the snaking downhill which doesn't last long enough to recuperate before the Harlem Hill. The Kissena guy moved up at the bottom of the hill and I followed as long as I could.

I felt my thighs pumping acid again (is that what VO2 max feels like?) but gritted my teeth and powered on as far and as fast as I could. About twenty meters from the crest of the hill I completely blew up.

There was nothing I could do... I had to sit, drop into the small chainring, bigger cogs, and keep the pedals spinning to keep my previous position (I climb fast, so I usually gain 10-15 places on these small hills). I think one of the masters could tell I suddenly started pedaling squares because as he passed, he patted me on the back and offered a quick word of encouragement.

I managed to stay in contact with the middle of the peloton and was heartened that I felt almost immediately recuperated in less than a few minutes. I again made my way toward the front and the masters kindly let me through since they still had a lap to go and we were lining up for the sprint.

Actually, lining up is a bit of a misnomer, a few guys at the front were in contention for a sprint finish but I certainly wasn't. On the shallow climb to the finish line I was sitting in around 20th place and tried to make up a few places using my only real talent on the bike: climbing. About halfway up I realized I wasn't passing anyone in my own field so I stopped hurting myself and held my position for the last 20 meters or so.

We rolled over the line and judging by the number of 5's I saw who pulled off to let the masters continue, I think I got eighth place, or near thereto.

None of our planning was put to use and neither of us won (not even the Champ-Sys dude!) but all in all it was a spectacular race. I think that before I started racing, this is what I imagined all races to be like, not the lolling, 15mph starts of the usual cat 5 races. Considering I held onto the front of a field that was going MUCH faster than I was used to, and that was above my skill level, I felt pretty good about my effort.

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I've often noted that racing a bicycle is a lot like playing a car-racing video game (sorry, I'm of the "Gran Turismo generation"). Since Gran Turismo was, when I was growing up, the A-1 racing game, I tend to draw a lot of parallels between racing my bike and my virtual sports cars. One thing in particular is how the first time you play the game, it seems easy, though you definitely won't come in first... After getting the hang of things, you become better and better at "driving" and even with an unmodified car, you can school noobs on almost any track.

So naturally I wonder if my experience racing with the masters this Sunday will affect my performance this coming weekend. If we're not grouped with a lower category again, I wonder if I'll feel more able to play with the field, make effective moves, and possibly ride away on an attack...

Saturday I'll be in Newark for the Cherry Blossom Challenge, and Sunday I'll be back at Central Park...

Until next time