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After such a beautiful weekend it was depressing to read the weather forecast and see they were predicting rain and wind just hours before PIR. But I was determined and loaded up my gear into my water proof bag and went to work under sunny skies prepared for rain. And rain it did. I rode to PIR with only enough time to sign up, throw my pack on the ground and line up. I was already cold and would have liked a bite of something just to trick my stomach into thinking I was prepared.

12 souls lined up. A small group to be sure. For me I was pleased, small group means less chance of a crash. (Although the reason I like the masters group is that to this day…knock on wood…I have not been in, nor witnessed a crash). The race was interesting. I was only wearing my skin suit (everything else was being washed) and each time I got behind someone it was like standing under a frigid mountain water fall…in the winter…in the evening…naked. The experience kind of takes your breath away. But a draft is a draft.

Erik Voldengen seemed to be having fun as he was constantly shooting off the front. I decided to do the same and looked back to find Erik and another chap on my wheel. This was for a preem so we forged ahead leaving the pack behind. Heading down the final sprint I knew my position was foolish as I could feel my legs burning and the two guys behind me where rested and itching to go. The thought did cross my mind that maybe, just maybe they’d let me have the win out of pure gratitude for me pulling them around for half a lap. But alas this was not to be. (Can’t blame them, it’s how the game is played) Id did get my revenge later when Erik was off the front, quite a distance away. I dug deep and managed to bring the whole group back up to him. :-p

The race went on like this for some time. One guy off the front, the pack would work together to reel them in. After each preem the pace would slow to a crawl. On each preem I tried to position myself but just don’t have the legs nor the timing to pull off a sprint. And it was this thought that crossed my mind on the final lap. I found myself in front heading down the backside of the loop. The wind is at our backs and I was grappling with my situation. Do I ease up and reposition myself. I knew all to well how that turns out. It occurred to me that I could and probably should just attack. So far, each person who has attacked has survived for at least a half a lap, and that is all I would need. But this is the final lap..surly they wouldn’t let me get away…add to that there is no element of surprise, I’m at the front for all to see. I decide with my poor sprinting skills it was better to try and get caught than to hold up and finish in the field.

Off I went. I didn’t stand, I just picked it up enough to get away. When I looked back to see that it was working, I pushed harder out of sheer joy and the thrill. I kept saying to myself this was a death sentence. My legs where burning, my lungs bursting and I had not yet turned into the dreaded wind tunnel. As I was rounding the corner I looked back to see the pack still a ways back. Far enough to give me hope. This made me dig deeper. The final straight into the wind is the longest damn stretch. You can see the finish but it’s far and distant. By now my breathing is audible. I’m looking back every 3 seconds. The pack seems far but I fear it’s just deceiving and that once fully ramped up it was only a matter of time.

Crossing the finish line, alone, and in first was a thrill. I realize the circumstance where different with a small group, bad weather and such but it’s my first official win since moving to Portland and everyone came up afterwords and congratulated my win. That warmed me up more than anything.

Aaaaarrrrrgh! Yup, that about sums up my PIR experience today. A DNF! That totally sucks. I just don’t get it. Am I getting weaker or is everyone else getting stronger? Ok ok, I’ll cut myself some slack. I mean, hell, last week was about the most lethargic week off one can imagine. 100 degree days with little relief at night. I still diligently rode to work each day but my motivation beyond that that this side of zilch. AND THEN! (That’s right more excuses) today as I’m leaving to ride to PIR (Uh huh, I rode to PIR!…excuse count 2) I notice my tire is a bit squishy. I’ve been noticing little nicks of glass and it’s been on my mind so I take a closer look. Well wadda know, there is a section of tread missing down to the guts of the tire. I search for a wheel in the garage, but this is a 10 cog so, um, no. I have a 9, can I throw a 9 on there? Not sure, best not risk it. Do I have a tire? Yes, but it’s an all weather beast and it’s on another rim. Best take that. (excuse count 3) Umph, grunt, pull, prod, pump….shit! Pumps not working. Where’s my second pump!? Ah! it’s in the car, with the wife, drat! Hmmmm? How broke is the pump? It seems to get the tire to 50psi and begins to piss air out the side. Have I mentioned that this is the heat of the day and I’m starting to run out of time so the stress level is rising (excuse count 4).

Breath. I’m getting all worked up over nothing. If I don’t make the race who cares. Anyhow, new beast of a tire on, 50psi and I’m off with 45 minutes to get to the race. If I hustle I can make it. I’m pushing hard (excuse count 5)…really hard. Legs burning hard. Some guy (George) hooks on the back. Turns out he’s going to PIR too. Cool. No I mean reeeeally cool. I was going a route I had only gone once and was obviously confused. He showed me the way. Thank you. This was a huge blessing because through the max and bus mall at the rose garden the lights refused to turn. 3 light turns later cyclist began to run them. Darn city lights. Of course this sent my panic state to a new frustrating level.

Anyhow, after all that I make it to the race and find myself hanging out in back with the hairies. (I just made that up…no offense, I realize the absurdity and geekiness of shaving my legs). I’m hurting and hanging on after only two laps. I do spend some time up front. It was interesting. There was this moment of euphoria where it seems my legs popped and not the popped as in we’re done but a clarity, a rejuvenation, a spring. They felt cool and comfortable, strong and willing. I was quickly moving towards the front. Of course this only lasted about 2 or 3 laps but it was pure bliss. Can’t explain it. Well, 5 laps to go I fell back…waaaay back. The last guy said “I’m the last hop on”. I did and then 1/2 laps later I popped. This time it was a pain in the legs kind of pop. There is a side of me that says I could have fought through the pain, I know I’ve done it before but with the ride home, my neck muscles hurting, cramp in my calf, blah blah wine wine. So I popped 5 excuses later.

I did, however, ride home strong. I must say, I was feeling and looking like a racer after a tough race. My legs are getting tan from the riding (mostly commuting) and garden work and the grime from changing the tire, sweat and road debris just added to the post stage race look. It motivated me as I pushed the 12 miles home. It was a cycling geek moment.

Hot, dry, windy, hot. Perfect day to ride from home to PIR to race my butt off then to home again. I’m still drinking water. I even took a cold shower when I got home. During the race around each sharp corner I could have sworn that my tires were slipping on the soft asphalt. It was a very strange feeling. However by the last 4 laps it felt less mushy…my imagination? Hard to say. I could have been hallucinating, there were moments where I was asking myself if I’d know the signs of heat exhausting. Especially with 5 laps to go and the last drop of my water was gently rolling down my tongue.

Somehow I always survive despite always trying and talk myself out of finishing. I probably only fail to fail because I’m too stubborn. It’s not determination as much as it apathy. Pushing myself forward is almost easier than finding the right moment to quit. So I sit, then I get bored so I go up front to play until my legs scream then I fall back to recover and debate quitting until I get bored round and round. But today I was mostly up front. So how is this fun? Its a game, a back and forth match play between the mind and the legs. The mind tries to call the shots but relies on the legs to cooperate. The legs are sly in that they pretend to do the minds bidding but never reveal the whole truth. The mind says “Give me everything?” but the legs only give 80% and then complain bitterly when it’s too hard. The mind relents and allows the legs to recover. The legs then sit back and milk the rest for all it’s worth. However, when it really matters the legs can surprise the mind and pull out a whopping performance. This moment of cooperation is nirvana.

I felt nirvana today. I was not winning, I wasn’t even close but it was the end of a very hot race where I had pushed my legs numerous times to the limit and felt there was nothing left. Yet there I was sprinting for the finish relaxed and feeling strong. Albeit in the middle of the pack.

One final note. To all you side-nose-snot-blowers, suck it in and swallow it! I’m not interested in having your snot sprayed into my face in the middle of a race! Or at least fall to the darn back. Geese.

There I was blazing towards the finish, I was alone and the pack was a distant mass of spandex, my legs where on fire and the finish line was moving away like a hallway in a classic horror film. This was not how I had envisioned the race. My vision was for a lead out train carrying, Joe, our lead guy to a glorious finish. It ended with me slowly rolling over the finish line somewhere close to dead last.

Throughout the race I had chased down attacks and even ended up in a couple of my own. Then with 5 laps to go I decided to hang back and rest. Of course this is when the big guns tend to take things a bit more seriously. A group off the front included a few such guns. My team moved into action and began helping up front to reel them in. I to did my share at the expense of valuable energy that I new would haunt me later.

I learned something though. I was up front pushing a harder than normal gear and watching the break get closer and closer. In fact at one point I looked down to see 33 mph and glanced back to see the pack gaping me…ME!? I was shocked but intrigued as well. Are the Tandem rides with my wife paying dividend? Are my convoluted Rocky-Balboa-in-Russia basement workouts actually making me stronger?

On the final lap I felt good. I saw Joe and quickly came up next to him like a Rabobank teammate around Menchov. My heart was racing from the thrill and anticipation of doing a lead out. I worked my way up but tried to stay back (In the past I’ve been caught on the front too early). I waited but surged along with the pack. A teammate (Tom?) was behind me and I heard him say once “Your on it!”. I wasn’t sure but it seemed the train was behind me and I was going to start the show. The final corner and I started to move towards the front, 4 riders back, 3, 2, 1….I hit the gas.

Looking back I was alone, way out front. There is a chance, a remote and far from reality chance that had I not been in that last break away I may have had the energy left to survive to the finish now, but the finish was a long ways off and the heat was on.

You can see it one of two ways. It was either the worst lead out ever or I took a chance and almost made it. Either way it was thrilling for me to be part of it. Having so many teammates there was the best part.

In summary….the sun came out and my riding increased, PIR started and my legs were shaved. That about sums it up.

My wife and I are going to do the Co-Motion classic so have been out on Saturdays getting our groove going. For us the Tandem is pure joy and harmony. Sound cheesy? Considering that most couples we talk to scoff at the notion of a tandem or lament their inability to find such harmony, I’ll take a cheesy, high speed, power train of a ride any day. The tandem – simply put – garners respect. Cars seem to wave more and single rider cyclist vie for the opportunity to motor pace our royal draft.

PIR with this heat has been fun. My last place finish a couple of weeks ago said nothing about my dedication to the team chasing every god forsaken attack down. I think all told I was in 5 breaks, all of which failed in part because my top speed is a far cry from what is needed to stay away. I do enjoy the looks when a couple cat 1 or 2’s get away and turn around to see me. I can almost see the disappointment. (Although being somewhat of an unknown the look is sometimes more a who the hell are you?) My goal is simple, work like a dog, no rest, finish dead last. It can only make me stronger….for…you guessed it…CROSS!

I called it a thrill as I chatted with an slightly older gentleman about the race. He seemed less enthusiastic about my choice of words but for me the whirring of the wheels and graceful…well mostly…movement of the riders within such close proximity of each other has always been what I enjoy most. It’s a balance between zen and chaos.

I felt great, surprisingly, no cramps, not too much fatigue, finished strong and am home now not completely exhausted. We averaged about 27mph and did 30 miles, not bad for a Monday night. Hard to imagine doing 55 miles, which is what the website boasts once the days are longer.

My tactics on the other hand where less desirable. I have a hard time sitting in the back because…well…the thrill is up front. So there I am fighting for position. Early on I chased a group and got a way but came up on the 4/5’s finishing their race and, wisely, we sat up to allow them their fun. Much of the race is a blur, at one point my team was lining up…it seemed early but I joined in. Then one got off the front and it seemed the rest hung back…this made sense to me but the pack caught back on. Later in a flurry of activity I ended up out in the lead again with about 5 other including one of my teammates but it was obvious the group was not interested in going alone and it fell apart quickly. Later I heard a bell and, silly me, thought it was the final bell so I once again ended up front hoping to lead someone out. I ended up about 8th across the line…except is was 3 laps to go! At this point I’m getting tired but fall back for a quick rest, then with one lap to go I start to work my way up front but couldn’t do it fast enough and ended up somewhere middle of the field.