Photo courtesy of Garry Sansoucie
Race promotion. If you've never been involved in it, then you simply have no fucking idea how much work goes into planning and executing even the most seemingly insignificant events. At Team B.O.B., we're a pretty small group, less than thirty active members. Despite our tiny membership, we've managed to do our duty to help ensure the health of the sport, putting on several races in the past years. This weekend was our new date for the Wayne Elliot Memorial Circuit Race. Wayne was a Team B.O.B. member before my time with the club, and he was killed by a car while out training, just off the course for this year's race. Friday I learned that the tragic accident which took Wayne's life had happened right in front of a house where I lived during the time I was getting into cycling.
B.O.B. has put on the Workingman's Stage Race since the time I began competing in 1987. After Wayne's death, the club started a second annual race, a memorial criterium in a Haverhill industrial park. We ran that for several years, but eventually a large rehab hospital was sited in the park, and the increase in weekend traffic ruled out closing the roads for a crit. Last year, we tried a circuit race on the original WMSR TT course back in Plaistow, in conjunction with the town Olde Home Day celebration. That did not go so well, as traffic control challenges around the course overwhelmed our resources. Therefore, this year we came up with a the new course in Merrimac, and a new date in May due to the cancellation of the New England "monument," the Jiminy Peak road race.
Getting the first Saturday in May was a major coup for us. Racers are all gung-ho in the spring, and turnouts are much better than in the dog days of summer. But after last year, we had to make sure this went well. The six mile loop was mostly rural, but about 1/4 of it went right through thickly settled Merrimac. All race promotions are a ton of work, but doing a circuit in a suburban setting is trickier than an isolated crit or a road race in the boonies. And the down side of getting the first day in May is the race comes right in the thick of training season. Further still, our club is mostly family men, and school vacation comes the last weeks of April. Yeah, this would be fun.
Armand was the race director. In addition to training and racing, Armand works full-time as an engineer in the defense industry, has a wife and three children, including nine-year-old twins, and is starting a new business, building a low speed wind tunnel that is near completion. Obviously, with such a light schedule, he has a lot of spare time to fill up. Volunteering to be race director was a natural for him. Think about that next time you're at a race bitching that it's been 45 minutes since the race ended and you still haven't got your prize money, and you need to get going because you've got things to do. Especially if you ride for a club that has never put on an event, get it? Minor rant off.
Were I creative and witty, I'd have made this into rap lyrics to go with the song. Or at least written a coherent essay. But I'm neither. Mostly I'm just still a little tired. And my role was only to be marshal captain and a general helper. Me and Il Brucie, who drove a pace car all race day, headed up to the wind tunnel (race command headquarters) after work on Friday. We live an hour away, but there was bumper to bumper Friday night traffic, so it was more like two hours. We quickly ate on the way and reported for duty around 8:30 pm. Despite having worked on this for three weekends prior, as well as from the end of the workday Tuesday until midnight, there was still much to do. Signs to be painted, potholes to be patched (ok, some sections of the road were atrocious, we did all we could), envelopes to be stuffed with prize money, start lists to be published, radios to be checked, maps for marshals to be printed, sponsor banners to be hung, police to be made friendly and cooperative, ambulances to be arranged. It was all good. By 2:15 am we were all comfortably trying to sleep on the couches in Armand's house, and the alarm would not be going off until 4:30. Sweet. The first race didn't go off until 8:15. The morning would be SO relaxing. I'm almost 49, and this was the closest thing to an all-nighter I've done in a long time.
Cutting to the chase. The race went pretty well. The weather was good. Our volunteers turned out, including our six motos for securing the rolling enclosures. We also enlisted a radio service which proved immensely valuable. Special thanks to Mike Norton of team Cyclonauts for helping us out with that and a bunch of other details. Thanks to all the riders who turned out, even the ones who complained about stupid little stuff. But if you've never marshaled a corner, much less put on a race, and think your $30 entry fee gives you the right to be a pain in the ass, well, our sport deserves better. To ALL the clubs, teams, and individuals who do put in the effort to promote races for all of us to enjoy, thank you, and thanks for reading.
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