Visiting Purgatory, Then Wisdom from a Zen Master

I raced in Bakersfield yesterday. It was hot. It was windy. There were approximately a billion goat-head thorns on the road. Based on how my lungs felt, I'd say hydrocarbon molecules were more prevalent than oxygen in the Bakersfield air. And the scenery was... well, click on the adjacent picture to experience its full glory.

Yet it was a terrific day that I wouldn't trade for anything. You see, it's all in your perspective. I'll get to that in a minute.

SoCal District Road Race Championships; Oildale, CA; p/1/2; 8 laps 80 miles.

I arrived a bit early to watch the 35+ and 45+ races and maybe take a photo or two. Two things immediately grabbed my attention. First, Thurlow was racing the 45+ event. Hmmmm, does he know something I don't? (Well, undoubtedly he does, but the question was with respect to yesterday's races.) Second, I was sweating buckets just standing and watching. Not good.

12:30 rolls around and it's time to race. 50 or so guys toe the line, including most of the usual SoCal protagonists plus a few who typically race up north, like Dirk Copeland and Ozzie Olmos, both CalGiant Strawberries.

For me the race had four distinct parts, acts of a play if you will.

Act 1, (laps 1-2) Flirting: Field rolled out and the typical attacks began to fly, mostly from 5-Star Fishes and youngsters like Benjamin Bradshaw (VMG/USA U-23 team) and Skyler Bishop (Kodak/SierraNevada) and we (MarkZen, Cookie, and I) were able to be in most all of them. Soon however, big Karl Bordine was OTF solo and rolling good. Now the remaining All-Star Fish went into full defensive mode and chased down any bridge attempts. C-Walk mentioned to me that Karl will cramp, and to not worry about him. Sure enough, he started coming back to us and when we got close, Rigo Meza and Matt Johnson (5-Star) bolted out of the group with purpose. I knew this was probably the race-winning move and scrambled my way into it.

Act 2, (laps 3-5) Dirty Dancing: Initially 12 riders in the break. Rigo, Matt Johnson, Ozzie Olmos, C-Walk, Freaky Fridays Aker and Githens (AKA Hair Bear), Jorge Alvarado and Marco Rios LaGrange Mexican National Team, Ben Bradshaw, Evan Lawrence (RHVilla), Cookie, and me. As per usual when trying to establish a move, this mutha hurt for the first 10 minutes. Unfortunately we lost some horsepower too early. Matt flatted, Cookie and Ozzie popped due to unnecessarily brisk uphill pulls by the Freaky Friday lads, which apparently even cost Aker his spot in the dance. Or maybe he hit a goat-head too--I don't know, he just disappeared. Anyway, we were down to eight and getting time checks that we were two minutes clear. Mostly we were working well together. Hair Bear was a horse, and yours truly was meekly pulling through so as to not draw unwanted attention, VMG Bradshaw was an energetic puppy. But rather than rejoice in our collective good fortune, C-Walk started getting a bit peeved about the lack of full commitment by a certain pair of LaGrangians. Like a pavlov dog with rabies, such negative racing in a break will bring on the Vampire attacks. Every freakin time. And when the first seven don't get the message across, he'll follow it up with another seven in a row. No mercy. On the 5th lap, C-Walk cracked the break in two. The irony is that the three that stayed with him are the three that he felt weren't committed, but when you think about it, of course that is what happened! Rigo is so talented that he could win under almost any circumstances; the LaGrangians had numbers, so why should they bury themselves. In any case, it was now Chris against the Mexican Mafia.

Act 3, (laps 6-7) Humped-and-Dumped: So while the front four motored away toward a gold medal and championship jersey, our quartet moped and whined about being used and abused. Well, that's not totally true. Hair Bear Githens was still upbeat and encouraging, and apparently full of gastric gasses as he ripped some wicked burps. I was envious since my belly was sloshing with disgusting half-digested cytomax which would periodically make the return trip to my mouth. And then the cramps hit. Initially just little annoyances, but soon expanding to full leg seizures requiring immediate 100% attention. Remarkably, with a bit of muscle punching, each cramp subsided enough to keep the bike moving forward. One new experience I had was pedaling, then feeling like the pedal was broken, only to look down and see that my foot was pointed like a ballerina's and locked in that position. It would only release after I grabbed my leg and forced it down. Weird. Anyway, the remnants of the field (about 20 guys left) were on our heels and VMG and RHVilla gave up the ghost. Githens and I labored on for another lap before getting absorbed, and that extra lap was due only to him as I sat on 80% of the way. The guy is a bonafide motor.

Act 4, (lap 8) Purgatory: I got caught and summarily spit out the back with some fellow rejects. Now if only I could have ended the misery right there. But no, those bastards slowed down enough that we had, had, to try to rejoin. Damn it, we did. By now my cramps were continuous. Once one subsided, another one hit. Do you watch Seinfeld? You know how Elaine dances? Horrifying isn't it?! Well, Elaine's dancing would be the epitome of grace compared to my pedaling style on that last lap. At the front of the race, the Mex Mafia dropped C-Walk and Rigo handled the one-two LaGrange punch to win the race. Our rag-tag bunch was sprinting for 5th. Nick Brandt-Sorenson tried to go early, but got 50 meters and melted. Then Dan Vinson and Aker took off. They didn't melt, and got 5th and 6th. I came in 10th.

Results for the curious.

After the race I slumped over my bike and moped about my physical ailments, and the absurdity of getting popped from the winning break by my supposed friend. The absolute definition of self pity. Then teammate MarkZen rolled up and was bubbling with optimism and good talk. When he sensed it was not catching, he gently scolded me for being too negative. He made the analogy to his tennis-playing days, and hitting the ball with the sweet-spot of the racket, and how good it felt and how he could feed off that sensation, bringing his game to a higher level. The analogy in a bike race is being in the right place at the right time to win the race. A real Zen Master could have fueled off of the mere fact of being in the winning break, and probably ridden a higher level because of it. Good talk MarkZen.

So as time wore on yesterday, I turned toward the positives. I mean think about it, we got to race bikes with and against good like-minded people on a safe and challenging course ...with full road closure no less! Those of us racing from SB had a great group of folks supporting us in the feed zone. Team bosses Jimbo and Druber along with young Charlie Blingerman were awesome, and the highlight of every lap by far was reaching the orange tent containing those friendly faces and cold bottles! Dinner afterward was a blast too.

I love bike racing.

Yo, other races happened yesterday also...

SB's strong contingent of 3's made a nice showing, with Matt Benko getting Silver (barely missing gold!) and all the TGI/Hazard's boys finishing strong in the front group.

45+ was the Thurlow and Sonance show, as per normal. He yo-yo'ed off the front trying to bring along some teammates in order to stack the podium, but in the end he had to go solo. Notable: David Pops Larsen rode the 45+ after already racing 50 miles in the 4's, and he finished well in each. Kim Bleth rode strong, making it into a break at one point. And the careful observer will notice that Karl Kaiser Weber raced yesterday. Right on Karl!

35+ was taken by John Rondash, after hanging just out of reach for much of the race. Surprising to me that Cynergy, Central Coast Masters, and/or Amgen couldn't or wouldn't pull it back. That's bike racin' for ya! Good to see Larry Niday out there looking strong.

Some pics of the 45+ and 35+ (as usual, click on the picture for a full-size version)...

Turbo pulling Stricky away from the field.

Steve holding on.

Dave Worthington scooting up the hill.

Carnage!

More carnage!

35+'ers suffering.

Liebert pulling.