The short version: the weather was perfect, the road course was rolling and fairly nice, and the field was full with ample competition.

Now the up front shiznet: Awoke early. Ate early. Left late. Drove fast. Over 100 at times. Missed the turn. Went 19 miles to far (out and back). Got a ticket (75 in a 45). Yelled FUCK as loud as possible while getting the ticket. Officer returned with a “tude.” Reduced the ticket to 55 in a 45 (Yay!). Got directions. Asked if the posse was coming – “no” was the response. Arrived in time to fill bottles, finish suiting up, pump up tires and lock the car. Rolled to the start without a minute to spare. Again, I missed the MASTERS field. WTF.

I had every intention of making the MASTERS field today. After all, the reason I traveled 200 miles was to ride with the MASTERS. The race series separates the 35+ from the 45+, which I like a lot.

Oops. I didn’t make it. I rode with the CAT3’s again.

The start was without the fanfare – as I imagined. I was “cold” so there would be a few miles of “warming” up — and I was right. Within two miles we were hammering. Oh boy. Since I was pissed at the situation (that I got myself into) I elected to jump … and jump again. The first six breaks I chased down and loved every minute of it. Nothing like a ‘racing warm up.’

Near the end of the first lap (27.5 miles per lap), we cruised hard toward the finish area and it was our opportunity to view the road, the narrow road with a faded yellow line and the assigned area (both lanes) for sprinting. More of the same from the first lap followed the start/finish line. Attacks, bridging, more attacks, working hard, etc. Soon after the first lap, I rubbed wheels with a CAT3 woman riding in our group and nearly went down. Yes, this event was full of shiznet.

The last few miles were much like the first few miles. I sat in 8th place riding toward the finish, but a little wheel rubbing from someone in front of me sent the field flying to either side of the road, and several of us touched our breaks for just a second to avoid what we thought was a crash. Thank goodness the two riders that touched stayed upright. The race, however, was over for those of us who touched our breaks.

SUMMARY: 55 miles total racing. Nine hills with one real climb. Average heart rate 140. Maxed at 189 which is a new “high” for me. Oldest in the peloton by 6 years. Average speed 24.1. Placed 18th.