Velo Voyeur Volumes: How to get your first Top 10: Take two 9 hour international flights, land and race

A funny thing happened on May 15th. I arrived at O’Hare at about 1pm after two long international flights from Mumbai. I had left Mumbai at about 1am (which his when all the international flights happen to leave the city bound for Europe. It’s really a pain because it involves staying up late to catch the flight. I usually sleep pretty well (as well as one can in a narrow seat). Well, I learned a valuable thing on that flight. Funny how we’re always learning things. Number one: never, I repeat never, get the last row of business class. Always get as far forward as you possibly can. I had a massive, gear grinding, wood-cutting, chainsaw massacring snorer next to me and what felt like 4 Indian babies in stereo right behind me wailing persistently and relentlessly into the night. Needless to say, I had no sleep. Wine was the only option. Lots of it. Fortunately the Delta flight attendants didn’t hold back. But this meant that I arrived in Amsterdam rather parched and in a bit of a muddle. Second thing I learned: never forget to change into comfy clothes prior to the flight. You’d think that a guy with over 3 million lifetime flying miles would remember this but I was so caught up in a business meeting that evening that I forgot to change into jeans and a T-shirt. So I was bound to two flights in my suit and tie (OK, I removed the tie). Not a good start. The nice thing about Amsterdam is the KLM lounge which has luxurious showers for their club members. So I hastened to put my name down and managed to have a great and refreshing shower at the airport. The flight to Chicago wasn’t too bad. I had some more wine, got a few hours sleep in and the next thing I knew I was in a cab heading back to my place.

That day was the Monsters of Midway Criterium at University of Chicago and I had promised to go over to support a friend and fellow South African who was riding in the 4/5 race and then the Cat 5 race after. The race was later in the day and I got home and immediately took a shower, felt OK and was about to head out the door and off to the race when out of the corner of my eye I noticed my trusty rusty sitting there in my office. Yes, you guessed it, my bike was making eyes at me. Hmmm, I thought, what if I just took it along to the race? You know, making sure it wasn’t feeling too alone here at home. Perhaps introduce her to a few other race bikes that are bound to be lying around bored out of their minds while their riders prime themselves for the race. And what if I threw some bib shorts in a bag, perhaps a jersey, some shoes and my helmet? Yeah, WTF!

So I get to the race venue, see all the Spidermonkeys, have a quick natter and they all say to me, you’re going to get in the race right? I say, no I’m just here for support and just landed from India. I didn’t tell them that I had my bike with me. So I sauntered over to the registration desk and politely enquired: any Cat5 openings? Nope, came the reply, but you can get on the waitlist. So again, I put my name down on the infamous Cat5 waitlist. I’m a process consultant, I know that it’s very rare to have 100% of something pass first time. So I reckoned that I would be racing in a little bit.

I watched my buddy in the 4/5 race, saw a crash or two, and proceeded to warm up. I got a pretty good warm up in on my trainer. I think it was at least 20 minutes - see chart below. I was feeling OK but still VERY light headed and buzzed from lack of reasonable sleep and the time zone difference. Right now my body thought it was 4am. Weirdly, in the back of my mind, I thought that I was going to be good, actually better than good: my best.

I was sweaty when I got the call up, I got some sideline help from a friend to pin on the number and rolled up to the start finish. I got a brief lap in to check out the course and then hung out with all the other cocky Cat5 dudes. I noticed my friend Andre at the back and beckoned him over. He said the 4/5 race was pretty fast but overall he was feeling strong (he is always strong). So after the usual pre-race rigmarole we got going. I was determined to stay in the front and after racing at Matteson several times I was amply prepared for how I would assert myself on these guys. My plan was simple: Stay in the front and go early. I had checked out the finish and it was a long 200m (I think) straight, into a breeze coming out of a rather wide corner. My plan was to be on the outside with momentum and hammer as I was coming out of the corner and hit it hard all the way to the line.

The race was fine all in all. No worries of being dropped or anything. But it was plagued by the usual Cat5 sketchiness of riders zig-zagging their way down the wide boulevards. There were also folks in there who constantly yelled at us like coaches, like they knew something we didn’t. Which is really, really weird because you cannot be in Cat5 if you’ve had more than 10 races so anyone who is in there is just as rookie as you are. I wouldn’t listen to anyone yelling at me in a Cat5 race unless I he was pointing out something that I hadn’t thought of before and my brain had actually evaluated it as being useful.

Half way through there was a prime lap and I knew I did not want to sprint for it and actually it seemed that no one else wanted it too. Except for Andre who quietly put the hammer down and left us all in his wake on his way to claiming his first prime ever. Great result Andre! There were a couple of attacks and I bridged to one of these but nothing got away at all. There’s really no where to go and with the pack always having any break in sight it makes it easy for them to chase.

Well, the inevitable last lap came and we amped up the pace a little. Going into the second last corner someone right behind me decided it would be much better to complete the race skidding across the asphalt on his back with his carbon frame snapping at his heels than to actually sprint. So he came wide and could not recover before being introduced to the steep lip of the sidewalk. Carbon, bones and meat has a horrible sound when it hits the ground. Ouch!

I did exactly what I had planned, had a good line on the outside of the last corner and then jumped hard. Well, as hard as a newbie cyclist can jump. Which meant that I put down about half the watts that a Cat1/2 rider would: about 896W. I guess I had used up some fuel during the ride and on the flight over. But my jump was good enough to get me into what I thought were the top 10 riders. I was going hard, all out, I was in the zone, completely focused and then suddenly noticed that the rider in front of me was fading and I would pass him. So I decided to go around on the outside of him and then he, for whatever reason, chose to pull over to the side at the exact same time I decided to. WTF! Seriously? So I had to hit the brakes hard….did I tell you I’m racing on my cross bike with cantilever brakes? Well, I am and they suck! I hit them as hard as I could, lost several miles per hour, stopped pedaling and then shouted something very nasty to him at about 1,234 watts! Poor guy. But in the heat of it your emotions are high, sky high! I managed to recover, kept the hammer down as best as I could and then crossed the line. Yes, I thought I was going to throw up. I think it’s always going to feel like that. I got 8th out of 50 riders. I was on top of the world! My first official top 10.