Yo! Been a while since I’ve blogged a race so here we go…
Eastern Vets – B Grade – 15 racers
Cyclone Casey lived up to its reputation yesterday with a howling easterly blasting the circuit with wicked cross winds and a block headwind down the back straight. The differential between upwind and downwind legs is exemplified by this graphic of Lap 4.
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As convention dictates attacking into the wind is more likely to succeed and hence there was a nice range of likely types out to try their luck. You have the solid super-tankers like Ian Milner at one end and the tumbleweeds like myself at the other. When my turn for adventurism came around I made sure to have a super-tanker in company. Unfortunately for them, there’s not much protection from a tumbleweed so, like all the other attacks, ours also failed.
The decision to include an intermediate sprint at the 30 minute mark had the usual effect of spicing up the race. The sprinters usually can’t help themselves and the cunning foxes know to keep safe and then immediately attack. It was my intention to keep safe and just try to stay in the race. The 1/2 lap leading up to the sprint was a crazy affair causing the entire bunch to blow apart with a number of riders finding themselves so far from company that it was game over.
For me this was the critical point in the race. It would have been curtains if not for two things, a very dark and deep look into the black pit of inner mongrel and the salvation of hiding in the wheels of Rob Suter and David Hyde – thanks boys, I owe you one. It took us, was it a lap, or was it two, or was it…? When you are that deep down in the hole it’s hard to recall much of anything. Somehow eventually the combination of Rob and Dave’s determination and the easing pace in the bunch allowed us to regroup.
However this was a significantly smaller bunch now, maybe 10 riders? The sight of John Pritchard sitting in a deckchair, already changed into civvies, beer in hand, was telling. Nice point of view while we continued to be buffeted and beaten about the head by the relentless gale. And relentless attacks also continued by the likes of Doug Reynolds and a new rider (to me) Peter Bertelsen not at all happy with our company and determined to break away.
Alas for them and lucky for us mortals it was not to be. Somewhat bemused by life’s mysteries I found myself hearing the bell of reality ringing. Suddenly the brain had to switch into ‘last lap mode’. I searched around for inspiration and picked out two wheels to follow – Ray Russo, erstwhile A Grader soon to be reunited with his peers; and former A Grade wily fox, Phil Thompson, sure to be making the right moves for me to follow.
Jostling for positions caused a constant change pace as riders took turns saying “not me” to leading out. I was happy to take the sit on Ray Russo’s wheel in 4th pozzie as we headed into the wind on the back straight. One opportunist took off early and ran to a 20 metre gap while the rest of us chuckled under our gasping breath. When the serious sprint started there were six riders ahead of me and the handlebars were almost touching. Things spread out a little more once we hit the home straight but the strong boys were pulling away from me with Ray determined to get back to A Grade and taking the win from wily fox Phil and the evergreen Doug Reynolds in 3rd. I guess I’d picked the right wheels. The only problem was not being able to stay with them. I did manage to haul in the early sprinter and rolled over the line in 5th. Phew! Tough day out.
As you know I just love the stats so here’s a table of laps to peruse. Ciao until next time 🙂
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