My alarm didn’t go off as planned. OOOppps. At 6:40 my day started in panic. Had I known that the fog outside wouldn’t lift for another two hours, I would have enjoyed my breakfast and made a leisurely journey from Statesville, North Carolina to New London. Mind you, when I asked for directions to “New London” – no one had heard of it. That was comforting.

With a “triathlete mindset” I organized my shiznet, ate, showered and shaved – packed the car and moved on down Highway 70 in dense fog. The fog wasn’t in my way – an “activity bus” was and there wasn’t room to pass. Again, had I known the fog was going to delay the start, I would  have enjoyed myself a bit more.

Ok then. Upon arriving I realized one ‘visual certainty’ – the field I was going to race with would be large. And by the looks of who was there – it would also be fast. Damp roads (at that point), large field, small roads, bumpy-crappy portions of roads. Blah. After speaking with the officials of the race, I elected to get out and ride. I needed 70 miles and with a two-hour delay to start my day might end way late and I still had a 270 mile drive home.

Delays in racing do happen. But not two-plus hours. For those of us who regulate body function, eating habits and warm-up routines to the exact race-start know that two-plus hours is (!) significant. Not the organizers fault – Ok. It was Mother Nature. So I warmed up about 10 miles and headed back to the paddock area to learn more. Nothing had changed – it was going to be a two-hour delay. 

With that in mind, I rode portions of the course and then jumped in with the Cat5-35+ race and cruised at the back. Their field was about 40 riders and within one lap it was down to 15. It was fun riding with them because I could move up fairly easily and even with a “pushed pace” on the climbs there was room to accelerate when/where needed. The speed was about 21.8 (average) and when they neared the finish I dropped off and rode around some more. Then I waited another 1/2 hour to get going with the Masters 35+ … which would prove to be a very different race – very different. 

Somewhere around 11:40AM (2 hours, 10 minutes late) our race started. I felt “cold” because I sat on my bike 15 minutes waiting to “go.” After the first short climb, the race was underway. Two guys leaped off the front and I attempted to join them. I quickly shot into the ‘red zone’ and the official’s motorcycle helped me for a fraction of a second, but he pulled over and I was on my own. The two guys were 50 yards ahead and the field was 300 yards behind. I couldn’t bridge the gap … but also I knew I couldn’t maintain their pace the whole race so I sat-up and within 30 seconds got sucked into the peloton … rocketing backward to the very back. This sucked. The move I attempted to make cost me TONS of positions — and because the roads were very narrow I had little opportunity to move up.

The field was about 80 riders to start and we began dropping riders on the first climb, then the second and so on. By the last lap the lead peloton was about 35 riders. As we approached the finish, an ambulance was on the right of the road tending to a rider – with what looked like a broken collarbone. The first 15 guys blasted into the left lane (blind hill!) and the group scattered like a shotgun blast. Many of us mentally “sat-up” because “it wasn’t worth it.”  BLAH.

Picture this: at the actual finished line, the camera and platform for supporting it and the official staff  were up on scaffolding with plywood as a floor. They prepared a “tree house” to hoist up their camera and viewing platform. The scary part were the metal poles at the edge of the road – jutting out like poles of death. Only a series of plastic cones separated the poles from riders as they crossed the finish line. This, in my opinion, was highly unsafe and – honestly – it was stupid. What if ??

SUMMARY: Two short races – the first was 21.8 and I wasn’t classified in their field. The second race was short at 43 miles – average speed 24.2 – average heart rate 150 – maxed three times at 177 – and finished somewhere midfield.

I packed it up and headed home – first via Taco Hell to eat and then for the next two hours I drove in the rinse cycle as the rain poured. Thank goodness I can drive in heavy rain at 80mph.

Ride-on.