Another late blog. Oops. Things have been extremely busy for me, and I’ve had trouble finding the time to actually sit down and write something constructive. Working 40 hours a week at NASA, as well as trying to ride bikes/ racing at least 3 races a week really takes its toll on me. Yeah, im not superhuman, but pretty darn close. 2 weeks ago I went down to the good ole’ sunshine state to race the Ocala Stage Race in Ocala, FL. Let me tell you something, I now know why they call it the sunshine state…I actually got tanlines THROUGH my jersey it was so sunny down there. Yeahh Budday. Anyways, I left Friday and drove straight to Jacksonville, FL, where I stayed with my girlfriend and her family. I definitely had to eat Panera when I got there… (Black Bean soup and bread bowl, just for you Shane!! Plus, it’s always a winning combo!) and Erin met me at the Panera close to her house. It was great seeing her, obviously, and we just chilled for a bit before going back to her house to crash. The next morning I had to wake up at 630ish to drive 2 hours to Ocala for a 60 mile RR, and later that day there was a 5 mile TT. This stage race was legit; complete with timing chips, AND time bonuses on certain laps.
The first race was at 10am. I suited up and was talking to a kid parked next to me, who was apparently a Cat4 (I thought he was going to race my pro12 race the whole time…he looked decent). I was moving around nonstop trying to get all of my bottles and food ready, as well as throw a pair of wheels into the wheel truck. When I left to throw the wheels in, and came back to my car to grab some chamois cream, the kid next to me said “Hey, you have a fan club.” I was confused, yet excited at the same time. I looked around and saw a few cute girls standing around…and I asked him who it was. Turns out, he wasn’t sure…He just knew that there were some other racers talking about this fast guy who came down from Virginia to race…and I was the only one from Virginia there… cool stuff! I headed toward the line and got a spot in the top third of the field. I was actually quite surprised how big the race was. There were about 75 guys in my race, and I bet 50% of the could speak Spanish.
The first lap was basically a feeler for the course. 12 miles of rolling terrain, with a powerful sun, and 100+ heat index. It was like racing in Africa…or at least how I would image Africa being if I ever did race there. The roads were all smooth, except one. There was a minefield of potholes scattered in random spots on the road, and with 75 people riding 12 inches apart from one another, you could not see them until it was too late. I was extremely anxious the first lap, being use to the crit racing up North. I kept forgetting the race was 60 miles, and would take a little bit longer than 90 minutes… (sarcasm). I watched as a few people went off the front for breakaways. It took all I had to hold back and watch, but I knew it was hot, and anyone trying to suffer out there that long is crazy. At the end of the first lap, I started moving toward the front because there were 3 time bonuses: 6 seconds, 4 seconds, and 2 seconds. I was able to snag the 2 second bonus, and boost my confidence just a little more. Coming around the 2nd lap along the minefield road, I nailed a pot hole. The hole jarred my bottle loose from my bike, but somehow I pulled off a miraculous save and caught the bottle with my foot. I was able to use my cat-like reflexes, and jam the bottle between my shoe and my down tube. Woooo that was a close one!! No sooner did I take a sigh of relieve, I went through another pothole because the guy in front of me obscured my vision. This one totally pillage me. I heard the worst noise a cyclist could hear while racing(other than a crash)… the sound of air coming out of a tire. Then I felt that little ‘skip’ which happens once you get a flat. Ohhh man. There goes my race, right down the drain. Being a stage race, this was a do or die moment. I definitely wanted to do, but I felt like I was about to die.
I waited for the wheel truck to come up behind me so I could grab a spare. It took a few minutes to find my wheel since there were only 40 other sets in the back of the pickup… Once I found it, I did a nascar speed pit stop, and jumped back on the bike. While I was changing out the back wheel, the man driving the wheel truck said he would pace me back to the peloton!! Oh Yeahhhh! My race was saved, almost. We were flying down the road at around 35mph, and I was sucking wind as hard as I could. It was definitely scary though—riding a matter of 2 feet behind a pickup truck, not knowing what is in the road in front of you, or if the driver would suddenly swerve or slam on the breaks… At that moment, I was too focused on getting back up to the peloton and back in the race. It took a good, hard, 10ish minutes to get back up to the field. Once I got there, I just sat in and caught my breath. It definitely took a lot out of me…
While sitting in, I met this guy named Roger. He was a great dude, and knew about me already/ he had heard my name. I guess he follows usacycling and saw my name as a collegiate national champion…but at the time he couldn’t remember where my name was from. I asked Roger if there was a break up the road, and he wasn’t sure—but thought there wasn’t. Also, Roger offered his couch for me to sleep on that night, but I had already gotten a hotel room so I couldn’t take him up on the offer. Oh well, maybe next time!! After sitting in for exactly 1 lap, I moved to the front right before a kicker. There was a guy in front of me who lifted the pace so hard that we just broke off the head of the exhausted peloton. So then it was the two of us, chasing a 3 man breakaway already up the road. Both of us were Big Boi’ing the watts, and caught the break within 4 miles. It was a hard effort, and the worst part was, half the race was still left! We managed to keep about a minute gap on the chasing peloton, and on the last lap I turned around and saw they were closing up on us fast. Time to work!
The 4 remaining people in the break started hammering, and we had an awesome, fluid paceline rolling. In 5 miles, we turned the 30 second gap into 70 seconds, and then we knew that one of us would come out the winner. Everyone eased off the gas in the last mile, and it started to be a cat and mouse game. I rolled up the hill half a mile from the finish on the front of the paceline, and then rotated off. The other 3 guys came up, and rode 3 abreast. So here is the situation now…3 guys, all in front of me, all riding next to each other, with the finish line .3 miles away. I waited for them to all look at one another to see who would be the first to jump. When they did, I launched an attack that left 2 of them wondering, and 1 of them chasing. Unfortunately, the chaser was able to get in my slipstream and come around me at the line. I was happy though—I got another time bonus for 2nd place, and I put 2 and 4 seconds into the other two riders in my breakaway in the last quarter mile. I was also glad the race was over. I was extremely dehydrated, and overheated. All I wanted was to find a Panera, and chill out before I had to do the time trial…
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