When sixth isn't bad

"Number 104, come over here.  No, you're not in trouble."
I'd only been number 104 for a short time, so it took a second to react.  I was taking a spin around the Angelos de Pueblo criterium course before the men's 35+/45+ race started.  My cat 3 race was still an hour away.

"Your race has been cancelled.  Only three riders signed up."
"Shit."
"You can ride in the 45+ race or get a refund.  How old are you?"  As if age is why I signed up for the cat three's.
"There's only fifteen minutes to warm up."  Pause.  "I might as well race since I drove all the way down here."
On the loudspeaker, "Colorado Bike Law says he might as well race..."

I'm off for my fifteen minutes to warmup.  I need up to an hour for a hard effort.  In fifteen minutes I wouldn't work up a sweat.  My routine is to ride for twenty minutes and then begin three 30 second efforts at high cadence.  It loosens things up and gives my body an idea of what's going to happen to it shortly.  I squeeze in the thirty second efforts for form's sake; part of the warmup is the comforting routine, better stick to that.

There are fourteen riders at the line, one 35+ fellow, three of us cat 3's and ten 45+ riders.  One rider, is the current national record holder for the hour, Norm.  My plan is to hide until I feel warmed up.  Then my plan is stay in the group and hide some more.  This is my first real crit of the year.

The ref sends us off with a relaxed 'go' and I clip in and move to my favorite spot at fifth wheel.  Not in the wind, not too far back so that I have to brake in corners and a spot where I can manage the wheels in front of me.  If I get to the third wheel, there's no way to avoid taking a pull without disrupting the flow. At number five, I can pull into the draft of the fellow moving off the front and keep out of the wind.  The wind is blowing down the back straight, directly in our faces.  This keeps things together until Norm decides to make a break about ten minutes into the race.  I feel bad because I probably could go to, but my legs aren't ready yet and I stay in place.  Norm is joined by another rider from Great Divide and they stay 15-20 seconds in front of us for the rest of the race.

The racing is fairly easy.  Fast but easy.  Riding with experienced guys is nice; there's no braking in the corners and everyone manages their lines pretty well.  The course is layed out in an 'L' shape with a few extra turns before coming out onto the finishing straight with 200m to go.  The finish is just over a small rise and it feels good to spin the lower corner gear right over the top.  In the last corner, the road is split by a small island with traffic light.  In the turn is a crease in the road just past the manhole cover, the only real defect in the course.

Well, that and the old guy with single speed bike drifting across our vision with about ten laps to go.  He's going slow.  I'm sure the marshal sees him.  He's in the middle of the road.  Holy crap he's coming straight across, ignoring the pack of riders bearing down on him.  We swear, we slide, we swear again as we turn the now heavy cranks up the hill.  Norm and co. are now safely away.

Four laps to go and a fellow in green shoots by as the group slows into the wind.  A good tactic, he already has 100m before anyone can react.  He gets third.  Our group settles in for the bell lap.  Mark has been taking all of the pack primes and everyone is satisfied to ride his wheel.  We wind up through the L and I'm holding onto the bars and leaning each arc, inches from the fellow in front of me from the Velonews team.  He's big enough to give me a draft.  The last two turns come and we come past the island, sprinting.  I pass fading riders over the small rise and come up to Mark's back wheel as we cross the line.  Sixth. 

I'm happy.