Troy Classic

This Saturday marked my third participation in the Troy Classic on the Square Criterium; easily one of my favorite events and this year was even better. The race looks extremely technical on paper. It features ten turns in a downtown setting, a roundabout, and stiff headwinds coming off the Little Miami river. Oh and did I mention that light rain was in the forecast. The kind of rain not hard enough to slow the pace, but light enough to shatter collar bones, put people into barriers, and nearly stop a field sprint on the final lap. It all happened. Despite the carnage, the course was in excellent shape with roads wide enough to hit every turn at full gas. This race has it all.

I came into the race with some serious apprehension. For one, I'd be racing with the CAT 3s in a fifty-three man field. CAT 3 should be synonymous with guys capable of inflicting long drawn-out efforts of pain. Guys capable of going right from the gun and soloing to victory (which is pretty much what happened). Secondly, this was to be my first race in awhile and on an inferior bike. Now, before you go on about, "the bike shouldn't matter, you're the engine." I know. It's a psychological advantage. Psychology is a huge advantage in any sport, particularly cycling. Enter my psychological advantage: the family. I found out a few hours before the start that my folks and a few of my in-laws would be in attendance. Partly to watch me and partly for the kids race that was to precede the Pro 1/2 race. No pressure.

It wouldn't be so bad if I got dropped and ended up riding the last few laps by myself, would it? You know, just to say that I didn't quit. That I stuck it out like some punch-drunk pugilist. I would get a few atta-boys. I'd still be a champion to my kids. Not so bad right? No. Not today. If sparing myself embarrassment meant only sticking with the pack, then so be it. At least I wouldn't be finishing with my tail between my legs. But I would have regrets...

For me, the 2009 edition of the Troy Classic can be split into three acts. The opener: wind and wheel sucking fury. Jostling for position. This is how most crits begin. Soon enough your lungs and legs adjust and you can switch your focus from survival to strategy. Intermission: ten laps of planning, saving energy, and finding out who to stay away from. On this day, I was that guy. I forgot how to corner. I couldn't turn to safe my life. This may have been me over-thinking the turns or perhaps revisiting the pile of very expensive carbon that assembled itself in front of me on the roundabout. Whatever it was, I managed to lock-up my rear wheel twice. I finally was able to regain my composure in time for the endgame (this after nearly crapping myself and receiving plenty of advice from the peloton). The finale: yo-yoing speed, going four-wide into the corners, and guys taking stupid risks; your standard criterium finish. I just held my place and with two to go, made my way to the front all the while thinking, "Dude, do you want that position or not?"

Hitting the final trip around the roundabout, I had a feeling of relief. Relief at being finished, at finishing respectably (I was 10th at the time), at finishing safely. Whoops, almost spoke too soon. With a flash of smoke and exploding rubber the two guys in front of me went down. In almost slow motion, I ride between their broken bikes and bodies while someone shouts, "Don't stop! Go, go, go!" My lost momentum costs me a few spots and letting up before the line costs me two more (a mistake I will never make again) for 15th. Good enough for one point. I'll take it.

The kids ended up being the real winners on the day as they seemed to enjoy themselves during the kids race. Medals and lollipops for all! Having the family there really meant a lot and helped keep me going. More riding and a few more races this week and then back to SC.