Saturday morning, 5:50 am. Ken and Cory arrive to make the long slog up to Loudon, NH for the Turtle Pond Circuit Race. I have my bag packed with many options for dress and good calories for pre/post-race fueling. It’s amazingly nice to not have to drive and be able to just enjoy my coffee and oatmeal. (Thanks Ken!)

We arrive at the race around 7:30am and the air is still cool. We wonder if the weather reports for 80 degrees were a lie and if we would be racing in Spring attire (knee/arm warmers, warm base layer). We hit the porta-jons, get our numbers, do the rituals and go out for a warmup spin. Head out on the course a little bit, see the only climb of any significance, point out the longitudinal cracks in the roads and areas with sand.

Weather is warming up fast, so I go for a Summer base layer and my kit. At the start, I find a nice tall due to block the Sun for me. Cory, in his usual disciplined manner, hits the line up first and gets a front row spot. We have a nice view of this, five rows back. This was the kind of race where little moves like this can make all the difference.

Let me just say, as I race more and more I have come to realize how sucky circuit races are (sadly, they actually suit my style of riding very well). They typically have the yellow line rule in affect, are held on narrow roads, always involve someone yelling CAR! or UPS TRUCK!, and too many nervous, tired guys in a small space. This race was no different. The lucky ones who got up front and stayed there, probably had a much nicer race. For the rest of us, it was fight fight fight for position and attack everyone hole.

The race got off with a “neutral” start. I say it with quoty fingers, because the first time up the climb felt no different than any other. It was controlled, I was left breathing hard and feeling a bit of burning in the legs. It became clear on the first lap that my only job was to move up and get closer to the front of the race. On the first lap, I continued to have a nice view of Cory up front, probably having a very nice time. The rest of up were left with pedal pedal pedal, break break break (yells from behind). Hit the first right hander and gain a few spots. I see BigBird start to move up on the inside (me, taking the outside on Matt Miller’s wheel). The pace settles. Another right hander, this one greater than 90 degrees. Chase to grab a wheel and then the pace settles again. Pass the cross walk sign in the middle of the road, glad no one hits it.

The course is very nice and shaded. I’m enjoying racing my bike and the air against my freshly shaven legs. My left hand starts to hurt from all the stupid braking.

Right hander, to a steep, short uphill. I take the turn wide and then try to be a good citizen by not passing anyone while over the yellow line. Some of my fellow racers did not return the gesture (at one point later the race, I recall some NEBC guy saying “f@%k it!” and brazenly moving up on the left side of road.) Now, I’m not some kind of wannabe race official on the bike, but the whole yellow line thing is kind of bullshit. It creates an imaginary boundary which limits all of our movements. By moving up on the left, over the line, you are both cheating and putting the field in danger. The race is not on a closed course and if you crash into a car – it will affect others. At the same time, the coasting on the down hills didn’t help to spread out the field; so this was bound to happen. I can’t point any fingers for this, since I never once saw the front of the race and never had the opportunity to push the pace. I’m also not completely innocent. Have I picked up places while making a move over the yellow line? Yeah, I have. We all have.

What I’ve described so far was basically the race for 3.5 laps. Climb was controlled and together, turns were surgey, downhills were coast-a-licous and the punchy hill involved some pain and dudes passing over the yellow line. I spent the race trying to move up, probably never cracking the top ten, even with my best efforts. I was working hard and happy that I was surviving each time up the hill. On the second lap, BigBird moved up to the front and tried to get something going with Cambridge. Nothing doing.

Last lap. I’m on Vic’s wheel coming trough the turn at the intersection where the race started. I know it is time to work on the hill. Still, no where to go and the pace remains relaxed. At the top of the hill, I feel my hamstring start to twitch. I down my bottles and hope it does something in the next 8 miles. A Bike Barn dude gets on the front and strings out the field a little, I move up some places and then the pace settles again. Vic tells me he is going to find a hole and make a move on the outside of the first turn. I move out try to give him some room. At the turn, Vic changes plans, gutters it on the inside, hits a tree branch with his helmet and slots himself into the front the bike race (awesomeness). I start marking some IBC guys and try to figure out what I am going to do. The race starts to get majorly twitchy. Some dude pulls off on the inside of a turn to stop (no idea) and some other dude rides up his back. This isn’t going to be good.

On the short hill, both my hamstrings start to tighten up, I let off the pedals, give up a few places (though, not to the number of dudes who seem to either be loosing their chains or slipping gears). I recover, slot in on the down hill and give my legs a good punching.

Last right hander and we are on the finishing stretch. Not far to go. Dudes start hopping across the center line to slot in up front. Yelling. Crash! Right side of the road, in my periphery. The road opens up and there is a scramble for wheels (maybe I’m not out of this). Vic is still ahead and looks in good position. I’m moving up. I can see the finish, maybe 300m to go (I can see the 200m sign too and the part of the race where we can have the full road). Another CRASH! Right side again. Time slows, bikes and guys hit the deck. Like a wave of carbon dominoes, it starts moving toward me (now on the far left side of the road, trying to stay calm). Dude in front of me flips over, I hit him and the top of helmet hits the deck. Pull myself away from the machine (legs have cramped up now!) and try to survey what happened (move out of the way for some dude OTB trying to sprint for 50th place). I see a wheel with a fork connected to it, but no bike. I hear a guy curse that this is his fork/wheel. I hear the sound of someone who is hurt, holding their shoulder and people are running toward us now.

Pick up the bike and give it the run through. Everything looks fine, the break hoods are out of place. My helmet is done for, but my body and kit are fine (I’ll probably have a bruise on my elbow). I start riding toward the finish and see Michael asking if I’ve see BigBird. We turn around and head back to the first crash site to make sure he isn’t there and hurt.

Making the slow ride back to the first site, I see the most awesome thing. LEO IN A BREAK COMING TO THE FINISH OF THE CAT 3 RACE!!! I later learn that he took 5th after spending 30 miles of his race off the front. The man is an inspiration and an awesome teammate. We were massively proud of him.

No BigBird, so I turn around, head to the finish. Find my teammates and prove to them I have all my faculties.

Even though I’m a helmet down, I thought this was good race for me. I hanged tough and the race actually got much easier as a result of fighting for better position. I don’t think I would have finished well (I’m sure my legs would have become solid rocks as soon as I stood to sprint), but I certainly would have been happy. The crash is a bummer, but it was also bad luck. It also happened at the front of the race, so only minor changes to position would have mattered.

Unsure of the final results, but I think Vic took top 15. He road real strong and kept the rubber side down. The man is a blast to ride with!

Congrats to Leo on a fine performance. You’ve made us Thresholders proud. Joe, Jason – nice work in the 5’s. Vic, Cory, BigBird, Randall, Michael and Ken – so awesome to be racing with teammates.