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A warm day with a dry wind but at Tabor the wind has little effect. There is only the hill the repetative familiar hill. Today’s race was much like any other. There was the start, nothing major to report, I was in back. Second lap I decided to work my way up and somehow ended up completely in front at the base of the hill. It’s kind of glorious up front, it’s really just you and the road, you feel powerful. I kept asking why isn’t anyone passing? Maybe I’m going to have a good day. At the top and on to the decent I was still in front….now it just feels wierd, like the whole pack is taunting me, letting me fry. Never a good thing to be in front so early for so long.

I decided to fall back and sure as shit I could feel my legs, big time. I played with the gears, shifting up, then down, then up, then down, spin, mash, spin, mash. Nothing helped it all hurt. 3rd, 4th, 5th…lap. Just hangin’ in the back. Some laps feel ok like I’m recovering, for those I feel hope seep into my being. Other laps I feel thrashed, and the debate begins. One voice begins the softening of the ego, “No worries mate, there is no shame in popping off the back. Just ease up a bit, the pain will go away and you’ll feel better for it”. Then a harsher more stern voice jumps in, “No quitting you smuck! You’ll recover, just hang in there, think of the people you know who are watching and cheering, all they care about is you staying in the pack…don’t quit, almost there”. This happens each lap with different variations and strategies from the debating voices.

Final lap. I’ve survived and feel some reserves. There is hope for an acceptable mid pack finish but alas….Mid way up the last hill I hear, to my right, the sound of sliding tires. The guy to my right swings in front of me, I break, swerve as well, but no body falls, nothing seems to come of it except lost momentum. I rode through the finish a bit dazed with a kind of pleased but wasted look on my face.

Since last week’s Tabor I have ridden my bike (other than my standard 20 minute work commute) zero times! Yup, Zeeeeeroooo. The last Tabor threw me that much. Plus my wife was out of town and my usual high work hours went random on me with conference calls at odd hours of the day (Europe, Australia).

Monday evening was the first time I managed to get a workout in. I headed into the basement, hopped on my trainer and did my 5 minute warm up then jumped off for some quick upper body then back on the bike for a couple of minute+ intervals, off and repeat. I did this for about 1/2 hour and felt refreshed. It was more a stress relief workout than anything.

So that brings me to today’s Tabor race. Tired and unprepared I headed to the race. And as if on queue riding up to Tabor, dark clouds swelled up and the wind began pushed me around as if to say “Get back! Go Home!”. I was tempted trust me. But once I don my uniform it seems silly to turn back so I pressed on.

I lined up and we were off. This time I raced the Cat 3 race. Bigger field and no Cat 1’s using the Masters to warm up. The race seemed even and my legs felt ok, not great but ok. I was in the back of the pack for the first two laps and was getting increasingly uncomfortable. The back is not the place to be. I had to start moving up. Slowly using the edges and small opportunities here and there I worked my way up. Soon I was in the top 15 or so. This was at about 5 or 6 laps. (I lose complete track after lap 1) A couple of preems are announced and the pace picks up, each hill sends me a couple of riders back, but to be honest I’m actually starting to warm up a bit. It’s still painful but I’m in the game.

“2 Laps to go!” I hear…vaguely. I’m about 3/4 of the way back. I feel pretty good and for some reason as if out of the blue the pack disintegrates. Riders are everywhere. The change was subtle almost imperceptible but the speed must have increased just enough. It is at this point the I see first hand how much of a fine line it is between racing and giving up. At PIR you can “give up” but still hang in the back drafting and resting, then when you feel better rejoin the race at the front. At tabor, however, one split second doubt, or lost concentration, or over exertion your are done, there is no forgiveness, no second chance, the pack is gone and the lonely ride begins. I pass these lonely riders on all sides, heads down, shoulders slumped. The mental anguish only lasts a few seconds while you can still see the pack. I know, I’ve been there, but not today.

Today was a good day, I hung in there, enough to be conscientious of the 7 or 10 rider break just ahead getting away. I even had ambitions of chasing but knew I had a teammate in the midst so thought better of it….HA! who am I kidding, the truth was, once again, that the boundaries of my capabilities had been reached.

After the race, I stood there hugging and chatting with friends, my legs cramping and dried saliva still clinging to my lips, I knew from those bits of saliva that I had done my best. So there you have it. I finished…in the main pack…felt good…and lived to tell about it. Now all I need is a good nights rest.

I won’t deny that I’m bummed and a bit dejected after my Tabor race today. I felt great on the first three laps comfortably sitting in the top five. There were hints of problems to come though, as I didn’t have the power to sprint for any preems. I decided to hang back on the forth lap and evaluate my situation and this, sadly, was my biggest mistake. I should have pushed sooner to stay with the pack but I let the whole group pass as I filed in behind the last of the stragglers. At the top of the hill I wasn’t 100% awake. The two riders in front of me let a gap grow. I yelled for them to “GET ON IT!”…but who was I to make such demands. I finally took matters into my own hands but it was too late.

The pack was in sight and the chasing began. I worked hard and maintained sight up until the last two laps where my body began to fade…or maybe it was my spirit. Passing the crowed alone (In a skin suit no less) has it’s humility to it. The cheers are different, there is an edge of sympathy.

Tabor…I shake my fist at it. It’s a frustrating race. When I started racing in New Mexico I was always in the top 5 for every race with very little training. I somehow felt that maybe there was some inherent talent within me. But Portland has been different, I’m older, the riders are stronger and the races are geared towards strength. I do miss the long steady climbs of New Mexico but then again I enjoy the scene here better. I will continue, but I hope to regain some glory soon.