“I am broken.” -Pentera
I know I am not as fit as I have been in March. Its by design so I am not upset. But going into my first bike race of the season I didn’t think I could explain myself to the hardest men (and women) of the Northeast and get them to be gentle. Coxsackie is an amazingly wonderful hell. Located near nothing but close enough to everyone it often draws the best from NYC to Canada and all of New England. Also insanely long for this time of year, its insanely popular with the insane who can’t find this kind of madness elsewhere.
In fact I pick the Coxsackie race series because its the hardest, longest series around, double the length of all others and just evil in terms of pace, tactics and riders who show up.
I rolled up to the start with CREW mad man Grant (see pic). He was doing Coxsackie then the nyc half marathon with www.teamcontinuum.net. That makes him offically a “bad man.” It was oddly nice out, normally this race is cold, very cold, and windy. There was wind but with mild temps it wasn’t ripping through my skin and striking my bones.
I was nervious at the start fearing the worse; that I would get shelled and dropped quickly. Driving 4 hours for 4 minutes of racing.
But as the first and normally, the hardest 10k came and went I found I was comfortable. After another 20k I had hope. 30,40,50,60 and 70k rolled by and I just kept on keeping on. I was really pleased with my riding. In the past I had to stand and sprint a lot more, this year with an early season focus on strength I stayed seated and just churned out some nice watts using my cycling muscles and not my running ones.” At 75k done and 15k to go I was still in the main field. Roadies smelling victory get aggro and I could sense the mood change. Hyper motivated roadies with tired legs means crashes. So I decided I needed to go off the front of the race or off the back.
I tried to shift into over-drive but didn’t have that gear. My “attack” was pathetic but in fairness 7 guys from a big team called Celtic were controlling the race and and keeping the temp too high to allow breakaways. I didn’t really have a prayer against em. My attack lasted a k or so and the only person I buried was myself, but that was good enough for me as bike racing is a form of self flagilation.
Smashed and cooked I was spit out the back and followed the race from a safe distance until its end staying out of the glory seekers way, happy I hung strong for 15 rounds of heavy weight boxing and took a sound beating without going down for the count.
(Pic: Uncle Grant with Coraline. Grant is the first person she malled with love outside of her Owners.) Sent via BlackBerry by AT&T