Marian Race Report - Marc

Post date: Jul 18, 2010 2:50:54 AM

So this is my first race day. Ever. The anxiety didn’t really hit me until I was waiting in the line 30 minutes before my race to register and pick up my number. Just standing here looking at everyone else and their bikes, and not being ready is painful. After getting checked in, I run (quickly) back to the trailer where most of the team is scrambling to get all their gear together and doing some last minute tweaks to their bikes: fixing their derailleur, brakes, tire checks, and the sort. Then comes the agony of standing still for 4 minutes while someone else pins your numbers on your upper-left side. Agony because you know that while they are doing this, you could have gotten in that one more lap to warm up and get familiar with the course. When I finally am all set, I sprint to the course to get in a few laps.

Going through the course involves a lot of fun upfront, followed by a multiplied amount of work on the back end. You start off on a winding, downward path that you can maintain speeds around 30mph if you can stick the line just right, followed by a long, flat straight away with a few nasty pocks to dodge. At the end of the straight away, however is a sharp, right 90 degrees that features a few lovely potholes on the outside, each being big enough to take a nice bite out of your tires. After this point you are all on your own on graceful, flat curves until you reach the main climb back to the start/finish line.

After 2 laps of warm-up, I slow down and take my place at the line with some of the team that have already claimed a space. This standing still for several minutes shows how much I was putting off the feelings of pressure, as it is all catching up to me. I am getting antsy, just standing still again, waiting for the announcer to initiate the race. Then it starts, everyone revs up. I clip in with no problem and blindly stay behind the person I started behind. I give a moment of effort before the descent, but not enough, as I take a bad line and riders slowly start to trickle past me, one by one. I look for a break to jump in, but can’t find one. I sprint with everything I have, but can’t seem to muster up enough. They continue to filter around me through the straightaway, around the hard turn, until finally, the line of riders breaks on the flats, only because they have finally run out of people. I look back to see if all is lost, but thankfully Frank is hanging with me, followed by a few other racers.

The gap keeps increasing between me and the next pack ahead of me until it reaches a somewhat equilibrium when it halts at roughly a quarter of the field. At this point I’m coming up the ascent and I’m running out of breath from the full out sprint for almost the entire lap and cut back a few gears - more than I should have. After finally emerging on top of the hill, no one is in site as they had already jumped the hump and were surely on the decent. I take the decent with great satisfaction in the drops while using the moment to regain some strength coasting the straightaway and take the turn. At this point Frank is right there with me. We pull each other through the flats up to the hill. At this point we both are getting strapped again for oomph, so we pace the hill. Frank and I stay together like this for the remainder of the race, drafting and pulling.

It isn’t until around the 6th or 7th lap that the leaders make their way up to us from behind. It is at the top of the decent and the pack is slipping past us, integrating us into their line down the hill. At this point I’m struggling to put my bottle back in the cage after sneaking a drink on the hill’s summit. The bottle goes down, narrowly missing my back tire. The three riders behind me – one being Frank – dodge the bottle and continue on down the hill. This is almost the worst place to drop a bottle because it fell just around the turn, out of site until it is almost too late. I yell back a “Sorry” and keep on, hoping that no one gets taken out because of my slip. As I come around for another lap, the bottle is nowhere to be seen, as someone surely picked it up.

A few laps more pass. I hear the bell as I pass the line and think to myself this is it, the last lap. Its time to make a move. After catching my breath on the flats, riding side by side, I tell Frank “Lets take the guy up ahead, the guy in the yellow. We’ve got him.” So determined, I blaze ahead with renewed strength, inching closer to the next rider 40 or so feet ahead. I finally catch him at the base of the hill and keep pushing, pushing, pushing. I finally overtake him half way up. I keep pushing until the line, when I hear some terrible news from the announcer, “2 laps left!” SHIT! I had just gone all-out too early.

At the summit, I’m wiped. I welcome the descent with a heaving chest, and coast until the flats where Frank catches me again. At this point “yellow” shows himself riding the tail of a straggler from the pack that is in mid-process of lapping us. I’m able to stay head-to-head with them through the flats, but when we hit the hill, I’m dust. They both jet ahead 40-50 feet before me to the line. Exhausted at the top of the hill, I watch the rider coast away from me. I pace the last lap and keep my place with the kids in the back of the bus.

-Marc Ghafoori