Long and Pointless Henleville RR report-read only if you don't value time

Another long and pointless Race Report from Andrew: Really, not much of a report and much more of a cathartic blathering. Enjoy…or delete. Whatever, I feel better for writing it! Now on with the show:

Henleville Road Race (Sept 24th, 2011) - 72 miles
Cat 45+ 1/2/3
Teammate: John Pauley

What poses a man to leave his family on a Friday evening to drive four hours and stay in a flea bag $45 a night hotel? I believe they study such people in beginning psyc classes. Well, I am that man and I certainly need to be studied.

After my ordeal at Winters RR and then subsequently grabbing the wrong set of legs for Sacramento I needed something, anything to reassure my fragile ego that I could ride a bike at something resembling race pace. I realized that I have been living this season in a state of controlled panic. Certainly my wife would argue that the "controlled" portion of those two words was debatable. Regardless, maybe this is what a mid life crisis looks like. Not sure; but I have been waiting for the inevitable speed drop off that I know is coming with my advanced age. I have raced 25 times this year knowing the drop is coming and expecting it to walk up and tap me on the shoulder each race. So far I have felt a few light brushes on the shoulder, but not the full tap…it is out there, and it is coming. Hide your birth certificates if you can!

Ok, long prelude for a race report, but I felt an understanding of my mindset was vital, and more importantly, gave you an extra 30 seconds of wasting time reading this silly report.

So, after the drive and flea bag hotel stay, I get to the race site and meet up with John Pauley (he must have issues too, but I leave that for him to explain). We sign in for the race and are informed that it is now 54 miles (three 18 mile laps) instead of the advertised four laps (72 miles). "Oh, hell no." You read above. I was not doing all that for three laps. I wanted my extra 18 miles! So off to the ref I went. I complained the loudest and race was reset to four laps. Whew.

John and I roll out for a nice warm up. Finally we decide to turn around and head back for the start. When we get there, we are the first two to line up. John has the sense to ask which group just started that we can see a quarter mile up the road. The answer? Yep, "that is the 35+ and 45+ 1/2/3's". It takes me a minute to think about that. That category sounds familiar. Oh my goodness, after everything, we missed the start! Now John and I are doing a two man TTT. I had thoughts of Keith attacking at Dunnigan in the first two miles and was sure someone was going to try that. The "controlled" came off and we were in a panicked flight. We caught the group. Thankfully, no one attacked and in fact, the pace was fairly sedate. Interesting way to start a 72 mile road race though. Not fully recommended.

First lap is so slow my Grandma could have kept up. Heck, I could have kept up with my wife's legs. Ok, I just went too far. Anyway, you get the point. Second lap I am getting board, so I attack. Get caught. From that point on, the race was a series of big attacks and then snails pace. Lap 3 my water bottle bolt comes out and I lose my bottle. Figure I will get one at neutral next lap. Next lap comes and I roll through the neutral feed zone. First two people get their bottles. I am third in the group and the next two guys, supposed to be handing out bottles are standing around talking. I am yelling, "bottle, bottle, bottle!" to no avail. They look up at me just as I pass them. I have about 15 miles left.

With cotton in my mouth, I am barley able to speak. I am begging other riders for a sip. Of course, since I can barley speak, I am incomprehensible when I ask. I think, "can I get a sip of your water" but what I say is "Can Ah slep some waber"? I have to repeat my request a few times till they get what the hell this nut case is asking for. I pressure two reluctant riders into a sip. I become our group's version of the guy who holds the sign, "Will Work for Food", no one will make eye contact with me for fear I will ask for another hand out.

Final sprint comes: I sit 5th position. 200 meters to go and the four in front start to sprint. I stand to sprint and my quads advise me to sit the hell down before they take matters into their own hands. I watch the four ahead finish and do a seated sprint to keep my 5th place. I win a coveted Velo Promo T-Shirt (They should have a contest for which of their T-shirts is uglier than the next. Of course, I will wear it till the T-shirt begs me to stop).

Ok, I am done. My ego, while still extremely fragile, is in check. See you all you soon!

Andrew