It’s been a while since I won last. But the day finally came once again, and when I (sort of but not really) least expected it. Because when I would least expect it would be on a day where I didn’t even have a bike race. If I won then it would definitely be when I least expected it. So it’s not accurate for me to say that I won when I least expected it yesterday. I think that phrase (when I least expected it) is over-used. Much like the phrase, “hey let’s go pick some ripe peaches from that peach tree.” Or, “those cows look like cows.” Or, “How’s about we eat some clams and jam.” Or, “Trees seldom seem to be green after eating pickles and watching the news at 8:00 on a saturday.” Or, “I just shat myself and now I can feel corn in my pants.” Or, “Lamps eat pine cones all the time, and I mean ALL the time, if you know what I mean.”
My big top secret plan of the day, that I only a select few about, was to ride to the race via a long route that would be about 4 hours. I had my plan all planned out too. With a long list of directions taped to my handlebars. There were 5 pages of directions, and over 50 turns that I had to make in order to make my 70 mile route from Sherwood to Swan Island. But I must have slept through my alarm or something, and I woke up late. Turned out I only had time for a ride in the morning, no time to do my ride.
I got in about 2.5 hours before the race and drove up to Portland with my mom, brother, and his friend from Germany, who spoke a language that I was unfamiliar with and therefore felt threatened by. Rightfully so I’d say. I mean, if you’re gonna come here to the US and of A and take our jobs and put your kids through the public school systems and crowd our hospitals and mow our lawns, you’d better be able to speak the language of the god fearing white folks that built this nation into what it is! Now I may be old fashioned but that’s just the way Fox News tells me to think, and by golly there aint nothin on this god damned fearing planet, that god made for us, that doesn’t give me a bigger boner than tellin other people what to do and saying screw you to the rest of those heathen countries in Europe. Comin here and stealin our jobs and…stealin our…corn. And stuff. IT’S OUR DAMN CORN YA DAMN GERMANS!! We saved your ass in dubya’ dubya’ two for god fearin sake!
I was a bit tired and sleepy as we lined up for the race, so I decided the best thing to do would be to attack right away. With a little under a half a lap down, I went off the front and had some piece and quiet to myself for about five laps before getting caught. But it wasn’t long before I got off the front again with a solid group of four: Nick Skinzzzik, Evan Elkan, myself Peterson, and a TAI guy (sorry I forgot who it was). We built up an ok gap, but were soon swallowed down by HP Chiro, the strongest team in the race without a guy in the break.
Sitting in the field was easy and boring, so I bridged up a few laps after we were caught to a group that had just formed up the road. This time it was me, Paul Bourcier, Evan Elkan, Patrick Marzullo, and Christain Tresser. Most of the major teams were now represented and built up 20 seconds pretty fast and kept it there for the rest of the race.
With a couple laps to go, Evan attacked a few times but it was all covered. I guess I attacked once, although I don’t remember doing it, and eventually we all just sat behind Patrick as he kept us going into the last lap.
I made a super crafty move, pretending to attack but not really, and everyone was so fooled they went cross eyed. Just joshing ya, I don’t think anyone fell for it, because when I pulled off to the side after my fake sprint attempt, no one had even reacted. In fact, I think they were so unimpressed that they didn’t even realize that I now actually had a 15 foot gap. Paul had let it form and yelled at me, “GO! THAT WAS A GIFT!!”
“Oh,” I thought. “OK.” And I took off with 3/4 of a lap to go to the finish. I looked back and saw Christian leading the chase, but it was too late. I already had a big gap on them. I looked back a little while later and the only guy I could see was Evan, closing the gap at an alarming speed. I got to the final corner and stood up to sprint the last 200m. He pulled even with me and we stayed like that to the line, with me taking it by just a few inches.
I rode into downtown with my teammate Andy for some Qdoba, then back to the course. Then I rode back home to Sherwood to complete a hot, 107 mile day. Boo yeah.
Today, Sunday, I was going to race but thought better of it and took a rest day, since this is a rest week.
One thought on “It feels good to win one”
haha, threatened by a ninety-pound blonde…