Spasm

Seems like the older my body gets, the more difficult it is to hold everything in balance for a decent race performance.

It wasn't the three hour nightmare drive to the south side of Chicago, though that was unpleasant enough. Blue Island is what many Milwaukeans think of when they hear 'Chicago', old, crusty, lots of large people standing outside of bars, "Hey, whar ar you from?" "Dubuque." "Huh?" Another large person, maybe more sober, "That's in Iowa."

By our start at 3:20, the skies were threatening rain and the temps were getting close to 90. The thick air should have given me a clue to take a puff from the inhaler in my bag. I've had EIA, exercise induced asthma for a couple of years now, but hadn't had a full blown spasm for two years. But I'd had a nice warmup on the rollers, a few spins around the parking lots and now was in a nice position in the line for the start with 71 other, soon to be elbow to elbow close, friends.

Moving to cat 3 this year means that my races are no longer the first of the day, but often the last of the day. I've added more training in the heat to compensate, but this change doesn't really help a big guy like me at all. The race started fast and there were attacks early and often in the first laps of the one mile circuit. The backside of the course had a cross tailwind from the left, but coming onto the delapidated main street, the wind was hard and swirling between the buildings.

I was the only Wheaton fellow in the 3's race, so covering moves wasn't in my game plan, just positioning and identifying the strong riders. I moved up and surfed the group about 15 riders back, said 'hello' to a couple of familiar faces. "Haven't seen you since last year; how ya' doin'?" "That's my son on the front there, my 13yr old got 17th in the fours race."

About ten miles into the forty mile race, there was a hard acceleration and with no warning, I couldn't breathe much.

And that's it. One of the beauties of racing is that amidst all of the complexity, tactics, machines, relationships, the race comes down to a brutally simple reality in the end. I learned not to take breathing for granted... and to check the air quality reports before I head to Chicago again.

I'm also readjusting the schedule: no race Sunday in Olympia Fields, just a ride with my little guy Karl in the park. Perhaps I'll add Richton on Monday if the weather is OK.