A terrible thing to waste.

The question is: "What is a sick day?" Today I am really sick. It started last Thursday night. By Friday afternoon, my throat felt like it had swelled shut. I was working down in South Park for the day. Crippled by my misery, job duties alone were all I could handle, which explains why you weren't treated to a pre-weekend blog entry. First I tried battling the germs by going to the new Lebanese grill next door and ordering some mystery fish (whale?) bathed in pungent garlic sauce. Sadly, this did not do much to make me feel better. By 4:30 I was ready to put a gun to my head (thank goodness for the 5 day waiting period), so I left early and headed to the local Thai place for my secret weapon, the Fisherman's Soup. I absolutely, positively cannot even think about putting this stuff down unless I am phlegmed to the max. It is that hot. OK, well maybe I'm a wuss and don't really like hot food. But this is friggin' hot. And kinda thin/brothy, which is unusual. After the initial shock, which came just from licking my finger (huh-huh) after taking off the top of the container, I settled in and finished the whole bowl. Temporary relief was mine.

Of course, on Wednesday night, I was still feeling fine, and with the weekend forecast looking to be OK, I had gone ahead and pre-regged for the Bob Beal Master's Stage Race, right at the deadline. Now here I was, $60 poorer, barely able to move, with an 8 am start for the 42 mile road race Saturday morning, and the 3 mile Time Trial later that afternoon. Sunday's criterium stage would bring yet another 8 am start for the 45-49 men's group. All this was just what I needed. Not.

For anyone who doesn't know, this race is named after Bob Beal (duh). Oddly enough, Bob is still alive (AFAIK). The race has been around for about 20 years, and it has always had the same format. The event is put on by the Masters Cycle Racing Association (MCRA), and is a masters only event. Bob discovered cycling late in life, and he used to race with the other guys in the 60+ race. He continued to compete well into his seventies, even after receiving a pacemaker. Bob had a few extra bucks and he used to go to a lot of criteriums and put up $50 primes in every category. He also had a die made for some pretty fancy medals, and to this day "Bob Beal Medals" are awarded at some of the better events around New England. Bob was on the BOD for the USCF for many years, and he traveled around the world to all the big junior races. He was the patron for several riders, financing them when they needed it. As a master racer, Bob also shared the wealth with the MCRA, and to this day he still sponsors the race which bears his name. So now you know.

Back to my problem. The Bob Beal SR takes place in and around Charlestown, RI, which for me is about 75 miles from home. This falls into the range of far enough to be a pain in the ass to drive back and forth from for two days in a row, but too close to justify getting a motel. For the races down there, normally I just suck it up and deal with the drive. For an 8 am start though, this meant being in the car before 6 am two days in a row, and on Saturday I had to have both the road and TT bikes packed, as well as the trainer, clothes, and enough food/drinks to last all day. And I was sick and didn't feel like doing anything at all. Duano actually had room in his motel room (he lives in NH, so commuting was not an option), but seeing as I was sick, I thought it would be much nicer of me to keep my sickness to myself and not be spooning with a teammate on Saturday night.

Why even race at all? Because I'm an idiot. Besides, it was the last race of the year (maybe) and what if the hot soup did the trick and I started feeling better? I could always bag out after Saturday. Lucky for me, it was warm and dry here on Friday night, and I succeeded in finding the energy to get the car all packed up. Saturday morning, I still felt like shit, so I downed four Advil and just started driving south. Good luck continued, as the weather was extremely mild for this time of year, and there was no rain. Registration was also a breeze (not normal for this race) and I had my bike ready and number pinned up with 20 minutes to spare. After a few nature breaks we lined up and the 45 rider field rolled out.

I had just Duano and Timmmeee! for teammates. The RR course is pretty flat and we started fast. This was also the last race in the year-long MCRA series, and John Grenier (Arc-en-Ciel) and Brian Wolf (Bethel) were in a tight battle for the overall series championship, which brings with it free entry at all MCRA races next year ($500+ value). Not that either one of them seems to need the money (can you say $7000 TT bikes?). The battle was on. Both of these guys are good sprinters, so those teams wanted to keep it all together. Duano is usually right there with them at the end, so we wanted to keep it together too. Demo's Wonder Wheel had four strong riders, all excellent time-trialists, so they were more keen on getting a break going. And they tried. I tried joining them a bit too, but for the most part it was their attacks and the rest of us chasing, and the pace stayed high. Coming into the last few k, it was all together. Duano was up front marking Grenier. I was not in a good spot, but since normally I do well in the TT, it was also important for me to finish in the top 20 in the RR to get some points. I dive bombed the last turn on the inside, and ended up dirt-tracking pretty good when my back wheel slid out about six inches on the sand/mud. I kept it upright and slotted in mid pack as we wound it up in the final 600 meters. With about 300 meters to go my lane opened up, I picked off a few, but didn't have the speed to really get it done. I ended up 18th, and I was TOTALLY gassed from my effort. Grenier won, Duano got second, and Wolfie got fourth. Timmy was just ahead of me in 16th.
The 42 miles were covered in 1:37, not bad for a small group.

With three hours until my TT start, I felt like shit. I tried to re-hydrate and have a bit to eat, but the thought of getting on the trainer was almost too much to bear. The sun was now pretty strong and the temp was pushing 80. I had a nice parking spot with room for the trainer, but no shade. After spreading out my blanket on the ground and nodding off for a bit, I tried to fashion a shade curtain by putting my folding chair on the roof of the Geo and tenting the blanket down around the roof rack. This actually worked, except by the time I got done the sun had risen higher in the sky, and when I hopped on the trainer my head and neck were still in the sun. Whatever. I spun for a half hour to get the junk from the road race out of my legs, then got into my skinsuit and rode the four miles to the start of the TT, doing a few jumps along the way.

A three mile TT may sound easy, but since it is a TT, well, it may be short, but it's not easy. Just ask anyone who runs the 400m on the track how easy that is. This race is just one way, like a dragstrip, and pretty flat. Every second counts in any TT, but in this one, even hundreths count. They have fancy photo-electric timing (beep-beep-beep GO!), and everything. Last year I rode a 6:10 and was third out of everyone. Wolfie won with a 6:04. I really did not have confidence going into this. I had faked my way through the road race, but I could tell that being sick had left me with no reserves and that my power was going to be missing. At the lineup, my 30 second man failed to show up on time, and so I wouldn't even have anyone to chase. After making a smooth, pursuit style start, I settled down in my 54x14 and got a pretty good rhythm going. At the halfway point I think I was doing well, but then I started to fade. I stayed in the same gear all the way, but I was losing rpms. There is a little rise near the end, and I really fell apart there, and lost focus over the final 300 meters. 6:39. Shit, that sucks.

Limping back to the car, I knew my time would not be among the leaders this year. There may have been a touch of headwind, and everyone would be slower, but not by 30 seconds. Back in the lot, Duano came over to see how I did. He didn't believe me, because he had ridden a 6:45, and normally I blow him away in a TT. Wolfie rolled over and confirmed my suckiness when he told us he had posted a 6:20, which turned out to be the winning time. Later I found out I ended up 10th, so I got a few points. I shouldn't feel so bad, because I was sick, and rode my 22 year old, 26 pound converted entry level women's road bike, with 7 speed freewheel and aging HED disc, regular helmet, and no shoe covers against the likes of Wolfie on his custom aero TT frame complete with 808 dimpled rear disc and 808 front rim too, modern teardrop helmet, and every other conceivable TT goodie. I licked my wounds and headed home.

Saturday night I didn't feel so bad, just tired. 4:30 am came on Sunday and it was back on 95 south. The crit is held at Ninigret Park, which is perhaps the only purpose-built criterium course in the world. The park used to be an airbase for B-52's, so the 9 turn course is as flat as a pool table, literally. I checked results, and Duano was down to a tie with some others for 3rd overall behind Wolfie and Grenier, and I was 13th. I didn't get much warmup, so on the second of 24 laps, I took a flyer to get the legs going. Well, soon I was joined by seven others, with the lethargic pack trailing about ten seconds behind. Shit, this was not part of the plan. We had thought that Arc-en-Ciel would try to keep it together, as if Grenier won, Wolfie would have to finish 4th or better to keep the jersey and win the overall. However, their strongest all around guy, Todd "380 watts for an hour" Buckley was in the break and driving it. WTF? I was supposed to be back there helping Duane, but with Buckley in the break, there was no way it was going to go back, so I stayed in and just rotated through, trying to keep a low profile. After a few laps, Todd put in a big surge and the eight of us started to blow apart, with me in a bad spot near the back. Two of the guys gave up and went back to the peloton at this point, but I dug deep and clawed my way back up to the other five, who were regrouping. Buckley seemed satisfied with the damage he had done, and now the six of us rolled away easily, as every team was represented. This was killing our and Arc-en-Ciel's chances for the overall though, and I wasn't sure what to do. Doug O'Neill, normally a CTS rider, but on Demo's for the weekend, was in the break, and he was one of those nearly tied with Duano. Buckley was threatening too, so I thought I had better stay with them and try to finish ahead of them, thus denying them of some points.

Second guessing now won't do any good, but maybe I should have tried to have a word with Buckley to find out what he was doing. This wasn't exactly easy though, so conversation was not on my mind. I got in trouble a few times because my spot in the rotation was just ahead of Todd, and a few times he surged for his double monster pull before I had got out of the crosswind and fully tucked back in. We were up over 30 seconds most of the race. The break didn't sprint for the first prime they offered us, so the announcer gave the rest of them to the field, which was good, because this allowed Duano to pocket some extra cash. With two laps to go, I attacked the break. I was hoping that Todd would come with me and then the two of us could settle it in the sprint. Unfortunately, he just brought them all back up to me. Now the cooperation was over, and it was cat and mouse time. With one to go we were all just playing games, and the field was closing the gap. Most of all I wanted to beat O'Neill, but for some reason he had lined up on my wheel and wouldn't budge. We squirmed and swerved along the backside, and two chasers from the field started getting close. Someone was trying to convince the others that we were in danger and get somebody to jump. On the mini-straight before the final, an AFD guy bit and wound it up. I locked onto the left edge of the pavement to force anyone behind me to come around on the right, in the crosswind. I got Buckley's wheel, and we sailed past a Bill Thompson (Bethel) when he misshifted. There was also a sprinter guy from BiKyle Flyers with us, and he jumped around Todd and they sprinted it out. I fought as hard as I could, hitting 56 kph in the 12 in their draft, but I couldn't come around and went across in third. At least nobody came around me. Third on the stage paid $10. Duano got a $20 prime, plus $15 for second in the RR. He ended up tied with O'Neill on points for 4th, and I think the officials mis-applied the omnium rules and claimed the tie-breaker was the final finish, so they gave fourth to O'Neill and fifth to Duane. He got $50 for that so the three of us split $95 total. Kind of a bummer because Duano still would have had a shot at the overall if things had gone differently. It was still good for me to get third on the stage, and it was a nice way to end the season. I think I was 8th on GC, but the results haven't hit bikereg.com yet.

So back to waste, later Sunday night my nose started running like a faucet. I hate taking sick days when I am actually too sick to do anything, but there is no way I could work today. I am a mess. I did manage to clean a bunch of crap out of the bikeroom though. I pay $33/month for trash pickup, and since I live by myself and recycle most packaging, I am paying an average of $8.25 to get rid of the single kitchen bag of trash I generate each week. Well, today I got my money's worth and packed that fucking bin with all kinds of crap that I should have thrown out years ago. I also found some cool painting that I forgot I had, so now I have to find some hangers and add them to the walls. Yes, this was long, so you can go now. Sorry, but there is nothing much else for me to do. Thanks for reading.