In a Haystack

Thick drool hung from my chin to the aero bar of my bike.  Sand and dirt clotted my teeth and I could just see the outline of Sean’s tire a few inches in front of my own.  I couldn’t see much else; the third turn, and a short run to the finish line were coming up, but I really had no idea of where and how far. 

Gap! 

We had crested a small hill, Sean pushing the pace, alternating with Doug up the rise.  I couldn’t see how fast we were going, rivulets of water and dirt coated the computer and my visor, but it hurt.  A small cramp was emerging from deep inside my right thigh, and I felt Doug’s hand pushing on my butt.  I closed to Sean’s wheel again and we descended, speed picking up and blessed rest settled into both legs as I coasted past Sean to the front.  I had about sixty pounds on both of these guys and the brief respite on the downhills evened things out a bit.  They needed a brief break too.

Sixteen minutes earlier we were a five man team, astraddle five wet, but shiny bikes at the start line of the Haystack team time trial.  Only 12.1 miles to the finish line on a slightly downhill course due to the road closure on the final leg.  It was cool, about fifty and the rain was picking up a bit and we were off.  I slotted in behind Doug, our smallest most aerodynamic rider, and made an immediate note to skip a pull and get behind Colin or Sean at the first opportunity.  The road rose a bit and then a nice descent and I was on the front feeling smooth and fast.  The speed was just at forty as Colin struggled to come around, I eased and moved to the right, into the side wind and drifted to the rear.  We hit a small climb and Colin came back, too fast, and now we were four. 

I found comfort behind Brian, with his more upright position on the bike and the miles began to tick past, a mixture of road spray, dirt and wind.  I’d come through with a pull for thirty seconds or so, see the groups in front of us, coming back to us after their forty and eighty second head starts, and pull a tad harder.  A few miles in, we hit a sharp climb with Sean pulling on the front and the legs burned.  I pulled through quickly and moved over for Doug and then realized Brian was gone.  I yelled gap, but we were now down to the minimum of three; our team time would be determined by the third rider to finish.  This was good; now when I yelled gap, they had to wait.

Of course, the terrible thing was that Doug and Sean offered not much in the way of draft and I could feel each pull on the front sap a bit more of the strength.  We were pushing hard to close on the riders in front of us.  The second turn came and I could no longer think clearly.  The wind was straight on, but my wheel weaved back and forth as I fought the bike and the bile coming up from my stomach.  I skipped a pull, then two, trying to recover.  I would, if I could get just a bit of rest.

Gap!  We crested the hill, Doug was pushing my ass with his hand.  This helped not in pushing me up the road, something akin to lifting yourself off the ground, but it made me angry and I found a pinch of energy to match Sean’s speed for the last 500 meters and cross the line.  Spent.  We averaged exactly 30mph for the race.

We were second, thirty seconds behind the winning team, yet ten seconds ahead of our ‘A’ team.  Brian rolled through the finish, battling cramps, and Colin came through a tad later, wondering why he tried to pull through on my first downhill pull.  These are the things we learn from doing a team time trial. 

From Doug’s report:

We were rolling like a freight train on fire, and 2 of our boys took shrapnel in their legs.  We're drilling with all we have, and Chris explodes.  Seriously explodes.  But somehow, someway, he manages to dig deeper than any man I have ever seen into one of those places inside that can overcome the absolute terror of the moment, and he comes back.  Not only does he come back from the brink, the edge, the pit; but he comes back and allows the "B" team to put around 10 seconds into the "A" team.  Beers all around courtesy of the "A" team I believe? 

So there were 4 teams, and we took 2nd and 3rd, racking up major BAT points.  It was truly an honor to race with these men, I am seriously humbled.

Bicycle Ped'lar won, but they have some massive guys, I think they got 30 seconds on us.

After the race was over, we rode the long road home, washed off the mud from the bikes and hung out over beer and pretzels and allowed the blood to come back into our skulls.  It was a good day.  It was a good day to fight the good fight.

What I know is this: those guys made me a better rider than I was before.