The Seven Steps of Cycling Up Mount Washington

Mile 1 - Shock

It has been just about 6-minutes since the national anthem finished and just about 5-minutes since the the first wave of riders was released up the Mount Washington Auto Road. Given that the waves were scheduled to go off in 5-minute increments, go-time is drawing closer. You stand straddling your bike, front tire kissing the start line, with your left foot clipped into the pedal and your right on the ground for balance. Friends are planted in the same stance on either side and you try to take a deep breath.

The weather has cleared and it turned out to be a pretty nice start to the race. The cannon fires and it kickstarts your heart-rate up a couple beats-per-minute. You shove off the line and clip your right foot into the pedal. If the cannon served as a kickstart, the immediate incline of the Auto Road would equate to curb-stomp.

You are in shock as you pedal up the first mile of the mountain. You’re friends take off faster than you but your breath and heart-rate are through the roof. A lot is happening and you almost don’t notice the first mile because of the shock factor of the environment. The cannon fires again from back at the start line indicating that the next wave is released and that about 5-minutes have passed since you have started. But how can that be? You haven’t even gone a mile yet!

Mile 2 - Denial

Here’s where you stare down at the road and shake your head. You check your brakes to see if they are rubbing. There’s no way that they aren’t rubbing, right?

This is a joke. There is no way that this road is this steep for six more miles. There’s no way you are going this slow. There is no way your heart can beat any faster, the chest strap must be broken.

It is impossible to go this slow at this effort level. You must have forgotten to calibrate your power meter.

There is no damn way you aren’t even a third of the way there yet.

Mile 3 - Anger

Every pedal stroke now is not doing anything. Nothing you do is actually doing anything - and it all hurts. It’s an optical illusion and joke is on you. Your heart rate is now sky high and you can’t seem to get enough oxygen in your lungs no matter how hard you breath. You hear the cheers of the random people on the road; you want to strangle those people. You want to make them feel what you are feeling.

What the fuck are you doing here? Why do you think it’s a good idea to bike up steep roads? This hill sucks so much and you are nowhere near finishing. This sucks. Everything sucks and your legs hurt. Your lower back also hurts from trying to keep your body upright.

YOU’RE NOT EVEN HALFWAY DONE AND IT SEEMS LIKE YOU AREN’T EVEN MOVING!

Mile 4 - Bargaining

The pain in your legs is now normal and you’ve found a tiny glimpse of a rhythm. Breathing still hurts but this is also the new normal now. Maybe you look down at your watch again to continue to count down the hundredths of a mile.

You say: Fuck I just have to make it to mile four because there are only two more miles after that. Just round the corner, yeah, that will feel good. Everything will be better once you get to mile four. You think to yourself, “I’m going to finish this, but I am definitely not signing up for next year. Just finish though… oh yeah, just finish and not only will I not sign up for next year, but I get to pig out on good food.”

Mile 5 - Sorrow

You made it to mile four. But everything still hurts. There is no hope for you. You are alone. Forgotten. Unwanted. You start to feel sorry for yourself but it doesn’t stop your legs. Your mind is crying - your legs are screaming - but they are still moving. Still spinning.

Mile 6 - Testing

Here is where you start glancing down at your computer and watch the turn of every pedal stroke. Every. Single. One.  “Am I going to make it? Maybe you start doing mental math for the next five minutes.

There are hundreds of other people around you - up front, and behind, they are all throwing down with you. They are all feeling the same way and they aren’t giving up… so you can’t either. Onward! Upward!

Mile 7.2 - Acceptance

You can’t breath. You’ve made it to the top though. Despite the 22% kick-in-the-face incline at the last quarter of a mile, you did it.

And that feels damn good.

So what that you had higher expectations at the start line, and know that you could have hammered it faster on “a better day.” You know you left it all out there and pushed yourself. You emptied the tank with what you had today and your happy with that.

These feelings are real. You’re happy with that.

You collapse. As a volunteer wraps you in a blanket.

Token-creeky

Quick recap from yesterday's race. I promised myself I was going to start writing more even if there isn't an overarching, grand, story-behind-the-story. I also decided that I am going to be a little more candid about how I was feeling during the race; I mean no ill-will, just stating things from my perspective.

From my short experience as a coach so far, I have heard all too often that the biggest set back people have is mostly mental/confidence issues. Most athletes have no problem putting the work in, but keeping their heads and thoughts together on race day is difficult.

I don't claim to have answers but I can relate to the feeling. Step one is to put yourself in the situation as much as you can so you are familiar with it. Step two is to know that these feelings will come on no matter how prepared you think you are. Step three is, you guessed, just "act as if" (yeah, spoiler alert, I don't end up winning this race, so I have got to plug myself somewhere in these rambles, alright? Haven't you got that yet?...Stay with me).

So here we go. Confidence or no confidence...

This was my first road race as a Cat 3. Going into the weekend, my legs were feeling great. I rode the weekly Bullet Train on Tuesday then went out for some big-time extra miles. My legs felt primed so I decided to sign up for Tokeneke. I got to the starting line in typical Hafferty-fashion; late, no warm-up, no food for the 66-mile ride, and asking volunteers where staging is (minor details , right?). I was happy they were running 5min late as well. Juan, a 545 teammate of mine, pointed out some of the people to watch for. Some usual suspects and some new faces among my new field. We rolled off a few minutes later. The first lap was a little bit spicier than I wanted it to be but was happy about how my legs were feeling. Maybe I just don’t have enough raw race experience but I always start these races with more self-doubt than I like to admit. I convince myself that everyone is faster than me and when some chump makes a dumb move, I am usually the 2nd dumbest chump in the peloton to chase it down. I was definitely not being patient enough with my efforts but was content with how I was learning and focusing more on reading the pack and moving with the field. The first lap was jumpy, and I put out more power than I wanted to. I averaged 350 watts (Normalized Power) for the first lap, of three, along the steep, punchy, 22-mile course. This 350w workload for an hour is a pretty heavy workload for me - but not crazy. I knew I should have sat in and drafted more but I was anxious to see what was going to happen, and I only knew a couple other people in the 35 person field. Despite my lack of full confidence, I felt like a couple other guys were also keeping an eye out on me. I knew Tucker and his teammate wouldn’t let me get too far away unaccompanied. And throughout the first lap, I was happy to see the Minuteman Road Club (MRC) being a little more provocative than they normally seem to be in races. We finished the first lap and were informed that there was a racer, solo, up front with about 90 seconds on us. No one seemed to care, but the 2nd lap did get a bit spicier. We were about 34 miles in at this point. I got up in front of the pack and put in a good effort right before the climb in the middle of the course. It was dumb and I should have known better. Those who ride Tuesday mornings with me, know that I make the same exact mistake every single week right before the Nagog Hill climbs in Littleton. Low and behold, right after my pull is when both MRC riders attacked hard and took off up the hill together giving me the ole “Right, there Fred!” It was a solid move, two other guys powered up there with the MRC riders. Through temporary exhaustion from the previous effort, and a little bit of cockiness, I thought, “We'll reel them in on the descent.” And I let them go. They weren’t that far ahead at the moment and this is pretty much what I do every Tuesday; make a dumb move, get dropped a little, and have to crush myself to catch up. I didn’t expect 545’s newest teammate, Daniel, to jump up and spring into what seemed like a pretty solid 5-man winning break. I had never met him before the starting line today, but I saw him put in some really strong climbing at the finish of lap one, but then faded back pretty dramatically toward the end of the hill. Anyways, it was not a huge gap going up to climb and a couple other riders proved to be strong on the downhills. I thought I could initially jump on some wheels of the other guys to bring them back in on the downhill. Since Daniel was in the break, I wasn’t going to work to reel them in, but was going to make sure I was up front to put in a counter attack if, by chance, we got them back within reach. I hate missing a break like that but was happy to see a teammate up there. They ended up fading smaller and smaller into the distance and I knew that it was going to be a break that lasted. To be completely honest, I had a gut feeling that, though my teammate Daniel was strong, was not going to last in that break. I felt bad when we saw him fade back to our chase-group a handful of miles later and that’s when I really knew we weren’t going to see that break again. Nevertheless, once he got back into our group, I started putting in a ton of work pulling and trying to make up some time and gain ground on the leaders. I was coercing and coaching a group of about six strangers to take smooth quick pulls, keep the speed up, and conserve each other’s energy. We worked well together for a little bit for the back of second lap but eventually fell apart when we started the third. We could not trim down the gap at all. I half-wanted to throw in the towel and just soft pedal the 3rd lap-- my legs were getting pretty heavy, averaging 380 watts (NP) for the entire 2nd lap. Strava stats are here! I looked back at what was left of my chase-group to evaluate everyone. I didn’t notice at the time, but we actually dropped a lot of people in the chase-group with our efforts. I was bummed when I didn’t see Juan, but was stoked to see Daniel hanging on. This turned my spirits up a little bit and I decided it would be a sorry-ass move to slack off on the last lap and wait it out for the final climb. Going up to climb at the midway of the third lap (about 15miles to go in the race), we dropped even more people; we now had a group of about 5 or 6 (I forget). And, apologies to other racers, but the remainder of the guys were very visibly exhausted. One guy kept shaking his head and mumbling with heavy deep breaths, “I’m just--huuuh, huh-- trying to---huuuhh…” and then he would fade off and not finish the thought. I pull in some decent efforts going up the next few punchy climbs strictly to test the group out and evaluate everyone’s legs; a couple were still fighting but I would pull away from everyone pretty easily on the uphills. Daniel was still looking good with us, too, which was great. After I’d pull away a bit, I would regroup with them on the flats until it was time to pull the trigger for a break. I knew I could save some energy staying with them while still holding off others; my plan was to keep cool until we hit the final climb with about 4 miles to go. I would hit it hard and roll in to solidify 5th place. I was pretty confident in this plan. What I didn’t know though, was that two guys up ahead in the lead pack crashed out, so if it all went according to plan, I actually would have been 3rd. Not what I wanted, but not bad for my debut road race in the category. Well, as they often say, “the best laid plans of mice and men, often need a functioning bike.” None of my efforts ended up coming to mean anything. About 6 miles from the finish, I shifted gears, we were going uphill and I was ready to deliver my final blow and roll away as best I could. I stood up. My right fingers tapped the shifter and the chain moved to a smaller gear. I pulled the handle bar up with my left arm and prepared to crank down on the right pedal. I tapped the shifter once more… I heard a loud “CRACK!” followed by “CLINK… clink… clink… clink….” My foot, expecting the support of the bike, and not getting it, crashed to the ground and I almost went ass-over-handlebars. I looked down at what was the end of my race. The hanger of the rear derailleur sheared completely. Cue the music... Silver linings: 1- My legs were feeling very powerful. See y’all at Mt. Washington! 2- I didn’t crash in the lead break. 3- My mechanical didn’t happen going downhill at 50mph.

Turning Yourself into What You Do

There is currently no word in the English language to describe the feeling you get upon realization that each and every person you see, and even the ones you will never see, is living a life as vivid and complex as your own.

This feeling has absolutely fascinated me over the past six months.

(I've been dying to write about it. I haven't quite had the ammo for full piece - and it is probably still a little weak - but I woke up at 3:57 this morning full of energy (only about a half an hour before the alarm was actually set) and I knew I had to find some time to put this together.)

Every person on the planet has made a series of decisions to get themselves to where they currently are. Whether you know it or not, and whether you were intentional with your decisions or not; they have created the YOU that you are right now. Even if you don't agree with someone or something - there is an incredible amount of beauty in each and every human's story of how they got to where they are.

Every second of the day that you spend, you spend getting better at something.

It is either work, or raising a family, or reading, or studying, or exercising, or on social media, or watching TV, or following sports... the list goes on, but the bottom line is that the "essence of you" is a product of how you have spent your time plus who you spent it with multiplied by your attitude toward that time spent. You are perpetually getting better at SOMETHING. The SOMETHING is your choice.

I have friends who play amazing instruments, write gorgeous songs, snap breathtaking pictures, edit tear-jerking videos... friends who bring friends together and make good times great, some facilitate ideas and see the world as Playdough. I have a friend who I have actually never met, who wanted to be an editor, so she spent time and created a website and then asked people to write pieces for her. Now she edits writing like no one else I know. Most of these things, I will never be able to do, because I don't choose to spend my time doing them.

Notice the word choice, I didn't say, "I am too busy for them."

"Busy" is a decision. I've sworn off using the term "I am too busy." I think it is a cop out and a really poor euphemism for "I don't want to do that." 

Often I am asked, "How do you run so far?" - the answer is simple - I have spent a lot of time running, thinking about running, and planning my days/weeks around running. The catch is that I am mediocre at my job, often neglecting friends who like spending time with me, and will never be able to foster a meaningful relationship given the time I put into it- none of this will change unless I change where I invest my time.

This is what makes major life changes so hard and heartbreaking to deal with. Whether it is a break up, loss of a pet or a loved one, change of career... whatever.

You've spent so much time and energy invested with something else (job, pet, person...) and you've not only allowed that thing to to change you and your life... but you've willingly invited them to change it - then welcomed the change - then told yourself it was good.

After the loss, whether it be death or a break up, you are forced to go back and reevaluate why you made the decisions that you did. And it is a vicious circle because are you are reevaluating these things, you can no longer relate or confide in the people or groups that you once found so much meaning in. You can't reach out your person anymore, or go down to the dog park, or, on a very basic level, even find meaning in the fact that another person on the planet values the things you are bringing into the world.

There is resilience and growth in finding new things and people to place value in, though. Appreciating what some thing, some person, some event, or some goal has brought into your life, realizing that it changed you in ways that you wanted at the time, but recognizing you'll learn and grow more in new ways with new goals and new people.

The magic comes in being proud of what you have become and being proud of the journey you are on. Check in with yourself as often as you can to make sure you are on the path you want to be on. You have earned everything you have become... but there is always room to grow... no matter what your starting point may have been.

I think the trick is to recognize that there is actually no "finish line" to your journey. You are never going to get to a magic place and time where you say to yourself, "Ahhh, this is it! I have everything I want and I am done now."

The caveat to that last line is that you can actually have that moment and magic place whenever you want it by simply taking a breath and a quick second to realize all that you DO have and all that you have become.

It's easy to get caught up in someone else and their journey. They have spent a ton of time (maybe even dedicated their life to) being good at things that you'll never be good at or even spend any time trying to be good at. These days, it is easier than ever to get jealous of these things that other people do or have - just flip open Instagram and you'll be bombarded by people telling you how great they are, what they value, and who they like.

If you spend your time getting caught up in the journeys of others, without the same allotted time for yourself, you'll likely find yourself angry or sad most of the time. You'll then spend time taking it out on other people, screaming and beeping in traffic, yelling at people because you're right and they are wrong, or being rude to the Poland Spring delivery man because the delivery was late. This is also a vicious cycle because as you spend time being pissed off at people... you also get better at THAT. So again, I say, check in often with yourself and your intentions.

It takes effort to be happy with what you have.

On a personal note, I wish I could play an instrument, I wish I was better at my job, I wish I kept in touch with people and friends better... I wish I paid closer attention to street signs in Boston so I didn't have to budget $250 a month for my car getting towed or parking tickets.
-BUT-
My appreciation right now comes in a great group of friends, being able to run seemingly long distances, writing about how I feel, and biking everywhere. That's just who I am and what makes me happy right now. It is where I spend a ridiculous amount of my time.

So if you truly aren't happy or proud of you, take a look at where you spend your time and who you spend it with. These are the simplest things and you need no skills whatsoever to change these things... just a conscious mind and active intention. 

A Gag-Worthily, Hopelessly-Romantic, Version of The Boston Marathon 2018

Most of you know me by now, and know what to expect with my stories from events. What this one lacks in length, won't be shorted handed in romanticizing. Everything from this city, these people, and this run; as played up by yours truly, in my true-to-form, hopeless-romantic, endurance-athlete fashion.




Mile 21.5 - I am at the top of Heartbreak Hill. It's down-pouring. I'm borderline hypothermic and doubled over a barricade dry heaving. My run is over; I am in tears. Friends that I had been running with had dropped me miles ago and not even the amazing cheers from loved ones along the grass of the hill could cheer me up. The wind and the rain had beat me down enough; I decided to give up and walk the remaining fives miles to the finish line on Boylston Street.


I gave up on myself.


That scene was the summation of my 2015 Boston Marathon, and I hadn't forgiven myself since. Which is strange because I am usually the guy hoping for more adverse conditions. In harder conditions, a person is invited to take a deeper look into what motivates and drives them to do what they are doing. This kind of introspection supersedes the posts on social media, the perfect training runs that are bragged about, the egocentric Strava segment KOMs, and, most importantly, it forces the disintegration of expectations that have been setting up by someone pre-race. These expectations are what can be heard before the race, "I should be able to finish this run in (insert meaningless time here)." These goals and expectations are an important factor in one's motivation, but they must be for the right reasons. And as I can see it, all too often they are governed by ego alone.

Though I try not take polarizing standpoints in these posts; here's one: There are definitely right and wrong reasons to do what you do. Especially physical tests that involve mental fortitude.

THE WRONG REASON: You want to make people gasp and say, "Wow, that's fast! You're an incredible person and a better human because you can run that fast!"

THE RIGHT REASON: You want to test yourself and see how you react to the world around you even when it presents you with a situation that is not optimal. You want to recognize your surroundings and find the best version of yourself in those surroundings- at that very moment- in that exact setting. Rinse. And repeat for the very next moment.


An unexpected addition to the expected challenge thrown in at the last minute, like freezing rain and 20mph headwinds, will capitalize the ever looming question, "WHY DO YOU DO THIS?"


To quote Seneca, "No man is more unhappy than he who never faces adversity, for he is not permitted to prove himself.


The 2018 Boston Marathon was, on average, the slowest- across the entirety of the participants- in decades. And though "grit" is not exactly measurable by any means, the same marathon saw the greatest amount of it. Through that grit, those 26.2-miles instigated an immeasurable amount of self-discovery.


The winners of the pro races experienced the same feeling of self-discovery as the people crossing the finish line long after the crowds were gone and stands were deconstructed. Though their clock-time was very different, the feelings were equal across the field.


Not only across the field of runners, but these feeling were also shared among the fans, officials, and police details that came out to stand in the inches-of-rain that soaked our beloved roads from Hopkinton to Boston.


The Boston Marathon, as a community, and as an event, and as an "essence," really showed its true colors and magic this year.


As I look back on 2015 and the moment I decided to give up on myself. I realized that that moment was very crucial in my learning process as well.


If you aren't happy with your time yesterday, or if you feel like you gave up. You are now faced with a new situation of "How will you use that to make yourself better?" I don't think you know what your best-self looks like until you know and experience what it feels like to give up on yourself. The key being that you've got to channel the experience and make the best of it.


I once told an amazing person, and I stand by it to this day, "It is more impressive seeing you fight through your worst fear, with a slower finishing time; than to see you set a personal best on a perfect day."


As I approached Mile 21.5 yesterday, it was as though I crossed-over into this indescribable barrier of time and space. I was brought back to the exact moment of three years ago, and I felt the exact feelings that vibrated thru my body then.


I looked over to the same spot where I gave up on myself and started crying in the freezing rain and the ripping headwinds.


Thinking back now, it was all-too-perfect and poetic that the conditions were set up in the exact same way for me to confront my biggest fear in the same exact circumstances.


I had a friend later text me this:




Through the same chilling cold and howling headwind, I felt the very vivid difference of tears running down my face, even among the rain drops. This year I was still in full stride, but I was crying all the same. I ran past the ghost of myself that gave up three years ago. I realized how much I have learned, grown, and changed in the past three years.


This life is filled with moments like this if you check in often with yourself and become aware of them.


SPECIAL SHOUT OUT AND THANKS TO THE BEST OF FRIENDS AND SUPPORTERS ANYONE COULD ASK FOR - CARLY AND PAUL. YOU BOTH MADE MY DAY. SO MUCH LOVE.

30 for 30

A few years ago, a writer that I look up to turned me on to the idea of reflecting back on things each year and throwing them down in a raw list form. It was a way of checking in and having a quick snapshot of where I stood in life and what I valued. Last year was hectic, it was 29, an "odd year" by the number and by experiences. I learned a lot and I liked writing about it along the way.

Maybe this is just a boring laundry list of ramblings; maybe it's an overdone, extravagant, and self-indulgent way of writing a yearly diary, but I don't care. It's for me, not you... and it's my damn birthday, not yours, alright?

Here are thirty facts, or random thoughts, or incoherent meaningless ramblings about me... for my 30th birthday.

1. At 18, I thought I'd have a lot more things figured out when I turned 30. Now, I know that there's a bit of beauty in not having a clue. The phrase "Follow your heart" is overused and under-understood, but it's not a cliche.

2. Birthdays are overrated. I wish people tracked their age by their maturity level. I've met 12-year-olds with more self-awareness than some 50-year-olds that I have met in the "work force".

3. I will make funny faces at your baby, stranger. I do not care where we are or what brought us together. I will not stop until that little fucker smiles back at me.

4. A properly brewed, German or Czech Pilsner is a thing of beauty.

5. You are constantly getting better at something. Every second spent is a second earned. Cherish them all and take nothing for granted. And if you figure out how to do this, please let me know.

6. Kellog's S'more Pop Tarts are the opposite of a "fine wine" in the fact that they taste better not as they get older, but as the person eating them gets older.

7. On work ethic:
   7a) The only secret to success is consistency.
   7b) I take a lot of pride in efficiency.
   7c) My biggest fear in life is stagnancy.

8. Why does it feel so weird to wear sneakers with pants?

9. I live for awkward moments and dwell in them when they pop up. Don't look to me to end the awkwardness if it's currently happening, because I won't. I am enjoying every second of this weird feeling between humans.

10. I will literally run away from malicious moods, narrow minds, or loud noises. I have no room or time to spare for any of this and I still block my ears when a fire-truck goes by.

11. I don't think humans need to eat animals to flourish. I probably won't start a conversation or preach about this, but if you ask my opinion, I will spill my guts.

12. Silence is extremely underrated. I'll never understand people's awkwardness with just sitting in silence. Small talk is painful.

13. On music:
   13a) Jeremiah was a bullfrog, he was a good friend of mine...

   13b) The ballad of my life is an instrumental by Explosions in the Sky titled "Your Hand in Mine"               Take a listen. Please.

   13c) One of the best things about being a 90's kid is hearing the bridge drop in the unedited version             of Semi-Charmed Life.

14a) Go outside.

14b) Dance

15. The best things in life come when you least expect them. And the only way to practice "not expecting them" is living presently, in the moment. The paradox is that the better I think I am getting at this, the more I realize how much of a clue I don't have. The beauty is the practice.

16. I don't have a musical or artistic bone in my body. This is one of my biggest regrets. However, I appreciate my writing and my wanna-be-ability to tell a story and to convey emotion. If there's one thing I could tell my 40-year-old self it would be, "I hope we keep writing."

17. You can tell a lot about a person by what the have magnetted on their fridge and what apps they keep on their right-most iPhone home screen.

18. Happiness comes best (and only?) when helping others be happy or making the world and/or humankind a better version of itself.

19. I have a love-hate relationship with "fairness" - I believe in the world being a fair and equal place for all humankind. The materialistic things that some people think they are entitled to is absolutely horrendous. But the fact that the world is inherently unfair has brought out the best in some people and humankind throughout history. It's sad that most people have to fight for equality in this world. I, as a white, straight, male, born into a loving middle class family, will never fully understand or appreciate others' struggles, I am jealous of those who have had to fight for what I have been given- and I also realize that's wildly flamboyant and gag-worthy to romanticize this struggle. Though I don't know what else to do about this, the feeling comes from sincerity.

20. Any situation in life can be related to Seinfeld, Always Sunny, or Arrested Development.

21. Fart jokes are still funny. Farts are still funny. Always.

22. I've had way too much fun at gay bars (both accidentally and on purpose).

23. A single emoji sent in a text conversation is the end of the conversation. Whether you sent it or received it. Recognize that there's nothing else to be said and don't drag the (probably awkward) conversation further.

24. If we are talking, I promise I will never be looking at my phone. On the contrary, if you look at your phone while we are talking, I will stop short in the middle of my sentence and make things super awkward.

25. Unless it's completely vital to the conversation, don't show me more than two pictures on your phone per hour, please.

26a) I am quick to Facebook-friend you, but only if we have actually met. I still have friends on Facebook that I've met only once; in a Lyft together, or in South Africa bungee jumping, I love making these connections like these and I love using Facebook for things like this- it's bonkers how many people you are able to have meaningful connections. And it's awesome to keep track of everyone you meet along your way- we live in an amazing time.

26b) On the contrary, I loathe how much I am compelled to check social media on a daily basis.

27. You are the product of the people and thoughts that surround you. Choose your surroundings wisely.

28. I envy people with true patience. I am working on being more patient, but the skill is not developing as fast as I'd like.

29. How do I learn better words to use without using a thesaurus?

30. Telling someone "You are my best friend" is infinitely more powerful of an expression than saying "I love you" to them. I've been in love a few times; love seems to be the easy part, but the friendship aspect is more important.

Bike Racing for Dummies - 2017 Green Mountain Stage Race

Preamble - if you know nothing of bike lingo and terminology, fear not. I will define everything to the best of my ability, however, as you will shortly find, I am still learning on-the-fly here. I bought my first road bike this past June. I've never followed professional cycling or any type of cycling for that matter. I do like to ride bikes though. I like it a lot and I am learning as much as I can, as fast as I can.

However new I am to cycling,  I am not new to having fun while pushing myself hard and testing physical and mental limits. I have a lot of experience in this area.

I also don't mention names much in my previous stories but, for reader's sake, I am going to in this one. It might be weird but we will get thru it. Promise.

So let's begin - Lesson 1 - The Green Mountain Stage Race is a 4-day cycling event that takes place in Vermont. I am brand new to cycling so I am in "Category 4/5" or "Cat 4/5" for short. Competing in "Cat 3" is earned by racing more and acquiring points by winning races. There is also Cat 2 and Cat 1. The experience level going higher and higher. Each category races separately.

A "Stage Race" means that there is a number of different events where cyclists earn points and/or time bonuses against their competition, and thus a ranking among their respective category. For comparison's sake, The Tour de France is a 21 day "stage race" where the overall winner is determined by the fastest time in the "general category" (or "GC") ranking. There are also points awarded to competitors for "King/Queen of the Mountains" (or "KOM") challenges and "Sprint" challenges, but we will come back to those later. Click the links for more details on speed and strava files, pictures, and/or videos. Click the pictures to make them bigger.

My Drishti was set on competing for the GC and overall win.

That being said - I also recognize that this is the Cat 4/5 race - I know it is not the Tour de France or even the pros. It is very small-time compared to those races. I promise to describe things as truthfully and as descriptive as I can/know how. I also promise to do my best to keep you on the edge of your seat and make you think that you are reading a description of the TdF.

2017 Green Mountain Stage Race (GMSR)

For story's sake, this weekend starts with a fist bump early Monday morning in Burlington, Vermont. It was Labor Day and three blocks of the city were barricaded off for the final day of racing. The fist bump was unexpected to say the least; an enthusiastic presentation of four small knuckles outstretched upward on a young arm. Though his arm reached only up to my chest, and his closed fist was much smaller than my own, it was rock solid and steady. I was immediately jealous of these attributes as I tapped his knuckles with a loosely closed hand that trembled with nerves.

"I hope you keep that yellow jersey!" he said without inhibition, even though I was a complete stranger.

"Thanks, Big Man. I appreciate that a lot!" I said half-bewildered by the encounter. I was straddling my bike, in full race gear, with a bandanna tied under my matte-black helmet; full reflective aviator sunglasses hid the uncertainty in my eyes, "What's your name, buddy?"

"My name's Everette and my dad's racing right now and he's doing really well in the sprints and in the GC! I hope he wins but there is a bit of gap right now, and I don't know if they'll bridge it up! Not to mention there are only a couple laps to go until the next prime!" he sputtered quickly.

He was surprised when it took me a minute to process all the information. He had all this information at the tip of his tongue, while his head at an awkward height that could barely peep over the top of guard rail but wasn't quite short enough to see under it either. I watched an unapologetic look of disappointment wash across his face when the most intelligent and engaging response I could muster was, "That's really cool. I hope he does good."

I had barely a clue what he was talking about- and the clue that I did have was all learned the previous night- sleepless and frantically trying to figure out how to race a "crit."

Crit - bike race where the course is deliberately short with multiple laps, including lots of corners designed to test cyclists' handling skills at high speeds. One small mishap likely means a crash.

My hands were still shaking with nerves for two reasons. The first was because I had never raced a "crit" before. The second was because I just borrowed a bike pump from a guy who crashed in an earlier race. He had road rash all down his left side. When I asked what happened he said "Yeah, that sucked but at least my head didn't hit the curb." There was an awkward silence and then he followed up with, "Here's my pump. Good luck out there! Defend that yellow jersey of yours!"

I pumped up my tires silently and went out to warm up a bit.

Let's back up again - The yellow jersey, in cycling, is given to the current leader in GC points. It is an awesome honor to wear the jersey, but it also is intended to make it easier for the rest of the racers to know who is leading in points, A.K.A. the guy they have to beat.

This crit race is the final stage of the GMSR. The starting time was getting closer and the racers began making their way to the entry corner of the race.

Before the race, a few of my teammates and friends made a big deal about how I was going to get a "call up" and how that was going to be a big help in the crit. I asked a couple times what that actually meant, but I didn't really understand to be honest.

"It's simple," Tim and Dan both said, "They call you up to the start line first, before anyone else. What don't you get?"

I am not quite sure what I didn't get, but I still didn't understand fully. Everyone was bunched up in the entry area and the announcer began talking.

"One second." I yelled. "I'll be right back." In all the pre-race commotion, I arrived at the staging area with my pockets still full of phone, keys, and a bunch of other random stuff I didn't need for the race. I pedaled up to the opposite corner, took out my headphones and phone, and left them with my lovely lady, Suz. I sucked back a HOTSHOT and made my way back to the group.

"We can start now?" the race official joked as we all stood waiting to be released to the start line. He then started talking about the race and the rules and blah, blah, blah... I zoned out.

Apparently, the announcer called my name. I didn't hear it. I didn't really hear anything until the kid next to me nudged me and said, "That's you, bro."

"What do I do?" I asked.

"Get up there, dude!" he poked fun because he must have thought I was joking.

"Oh."

I slowly pedaled up 500-feet from the staging area to the start line alone as everyone cheered.

I don't do well with boasting and/or inequality in any aspect of life. The solo pedal up to the line was super awkward for me. He then "called up" the 2nd and 3rd place guys to the start line. Then he allowed everyone else to the line. We stood there for two minutes. The longest two minutes of my short lived cycling career.

As it stood, I wore the yellow jersey, so I was in the lead. Trailing me by seconds was a kid named Robbie. Then, ten seconds behind him was Berk. So first place thru 3rd place were all within 20-seconds of each other. It was anyone's race, really. The difference being that Robbie had his teammate, Rees, at the starting line with him; and Berk had his teammate, Dustin, at the starting line with him as well. I, on the other hand, was solo, and had no idea what I was doing.
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Stage 1 of the GMSR is an uphill "time trial." A time trial (TT) is a race against the clock. Each rider is released on to the course in 30-second intervals and the times are recorded individually. Coming from a triathlon background, I have a lot of experience in time-trialing and knew I was going to fair decently.

The effort is totally individual. Drafting off of the other riders on the course is not allowed.

Drafting is when one cyclist will ride close behind another. The rider up front does a lot more work than the person in the back because the person in the back does not have to fight air resistance as much but they both travel at the same speed.

TT in action

The GMSR TT course is 5.6 miles. The first 2.6-miles climbs about 500ft. It took me 8min 57sec. The rest is net downhill for 3-miles and was into a 10-12mph headwind. The only thing you can do to improve your time in a time trial is pedal hard and get into an aerodynamic position (areo). I am good at pedaling hard and getting better at being aero.

I finished 2nd behind a kid named Torin. I wasn't expecting to win, but I also wasn't expecting anyone to go 26 seconds faster than me. This kid had legs. And because he won the 1st stage, he got to wear the yellow leader jersey for Stage 2. My effort analysis for the TT is here if you want more numbers, but for non-bike-nerds, I will save the jibber-jabber. Long story short, it was pretty much right on point with what I expected I could do. I averaged 388-watts for a duration of 15minutes and 40seconds.

A "watt" is a unit of power commonly used by cyclists to quantify effort. It is basically how hard the rider can push the pedals. Think of it as weights on a barbell in a gym. It just measures how much overall work you can do on a bike. 388watts for 15minutes is right on point for me. For comparison's sake, 388watts is equal to half of a "horsepower" when describing an engine in a car. Not too shabby considering I run on infinity miles per gallon, eh?

Torin donning the Yellow Jersey after the TT

On my to the start line of stage two, I stopped at a coffee shop in Rochester. I was in my bike attire, late, and ready to get in, get a coffee, and get on my way. However, a woman came up to me at the register, introduced herself and asked how the race was going. She was clearly excited about it and wanted to chat. I didn't have much time but I ended up chatting with her anyways. I am typically late to anything I do, anyways. In chatting with her, I learned that her son won the GMSR a couple years ago and was now off racing somewhere else as part of a different team. We ended up talking for a little longer than I noticed, and ,though I wish I could have talked more, I was now later than even I wanted to be. I told her it was awesome meeting her and her husband, then left for the start line. After random encounters like that, I now had a big smile, a new friend, and a great feeling overall. I didn't really expect to talk with either of them again despite them telling me that they were volunteering on the course for stage three tomorrow. I have them my racing number to look out for, but, at most, I'd wave to them on the course as I passed by. Nevertheless, Vermonters are some of the best people on the planet.

Stage 2 was 54 miles and called The Bridges Resort Circuit Race. It was my very first race on a road bike and to be completely unfiltered and frank it was not much different than my very first sexual encounter with another human.

At first, much like I did with the opposite sex as a teenager, I built up both experiences in my head to be more than they actually were, and I over-thought a lot of details. I "put the bike race on a pedestal" if you will.

Through inexperience in each, they were both very uneventful, they were both over a lot faster than I wanted them to be, and the both left me wondering, "Did I do that right?" "Was that good for you , too?" I was very unsatisfied.

During the race, there were a few failed attempts to break the pack up (this is when a few riders will power up ahead of everyone else and start working together to "break away" from the pack). This is also when a "gap" forms. When cyclists refer to a "gap" they mean the distance between the leaders and the rest of the pack. Consequently, when a gap forms, the pack usually starts to work together to catch up with them. A break need to be just at the right timing and with just the right racers to make it last.

Torin wore the yellow jersey well for Stage 2; too well, if you ask me. Typically the person in the yellow jersey will shy away from getting up front and doing more work than necessary. He has 26seconds to give after all. It's our job to beat him; he doesn't have to beat us. As long as the pack stays together and finishes together without someone breaking out ahead, the lead pack will all be recorded with the same finishing time. If all the finishing times are the same, he stays in the lead. It doesn't matter how fast or slow we go today if we all stay together and are awarded the same time, Torin will remain in the lead because he won the Time Trial yesterday by 26 seconds. Long story short, Torin stayed up front and did a lot more work than he had to.

Besides a few small and feeble attempts at a break, no one did anything. Everyone finished at the same time.

The only other thing I am going to add to this description of stage two is that there is a "GC Time Bonus" to the first five people physically across the line. So even though we all finished in the same time, in a big pack, there is a bonus for winning. The first person across the line gets a 15-second bonus deducted from their overall standing in the GC time. This doesn't mean much for the single stage of racing but is pretty huge for the overall GC standings.

Robbie finished first across the line.

My analysis is here. To sum it up, I averaged 215-watts and the group finished at 2hrs and 16min. I made a couple of moves, but I lacked the bike racing experience, confidence, and intuitiveness to have instigated any more than I did.

I was so frustrated at the end that I put my running shoes on immediately after the ride and peeled off 4 miles at about 7min/mile pace. Not the best idea when we have another 65 miles to ride tomorrow but honestly, I felt like we didn't even ride at all. To put it in perspective, I could have covered the same distance faster if I had been riding all by myself.

As a matter of fact, the Monday before the race I rode the stationary trainer for five and a half hours at a harder effort level than we rode stage two. 

However, I was still in 2nd place overall for the GC. I was still behind Torin by 26 seconds, and I was heading into stage three with semi-fresh legs.

Stage two finish

Setting the scene for Stage 3:
This course is extremely beneficial to the type of rider who likes going up hill. The person in 3rd place, right behind me,  is from Vermont- he is a phenomenal climber. Torin, still in first place, is also an incredible climber. Had conditions been different on Sunday morning, I am almost positive Stage 3 would have ended differently.

As we signed in at the start line, I was just as surprised as the rest of the field when I noticed that the 3rd place rider, going into his strong suit, on his home turf, did not sign in to ride. I did a mini-happy dance in my head, but then was brought abruptly back to reality a half of a second later when I remembered it was 42 degrees outside and down-pouring.

I went back to my car after I signed in. I needed to stay as warm as I could before the ride started. When I got back to my car I noticed a message on Facebook from a stranger, which immediately warmed my heart again (unfortunately not my fingers though).

It was from the woman I had met yesterday and she wishing me luck.

When I meet someone new, I always shy away from telling people specific times, placings, or speeds when they ask, "How did XXX race go?" Obviously, people want to know numbers and placings, and there is a time and place for that; but, better than that are feelings and experiences and thoughts during the race. The former are all relative, I try to honor that as best I can. The magic is in the effor that people put forward; not how fast they can go. I also try and focus on how much fun I had, and how awesome the people and crowd were at the race more than how "fast" or "slow" everyone went.

When I met Tamme at the coffee shop, she asked these leading questions. Deep down I knew she wanted a number, a time, how fast I went. I decided to dodge the inquiry and just talk about how awesome the day was, how nice it is to be in the gorgeous state of Vermont, and how I am looking forward to racing more.

If I had told her a specific result, the conversation would have been immediately taken over by times and performances (which in my opinion, is not much of a conversation). But, if I talk about how awesome everything else is, and how lovely Vermont is, and how awesome everyone around the race  is, it invokes a "next level" conversation. A conversation about feelings and stories and fun times; rather than comparing results for 20mins. Tamme, her husband, the barista, had a really great conversation. We briefly got to know each other, rather than compare times on a surface level.

Furthermore, if I had told her my time, Tamme might not have decided to look the results up herself and track me down on Facebook to send me this truly lovely message...

After this, knowing they were going to be cheering me, a complete stranger, on kept me happy.

I didn't quite know if Suz was going to be able to get on the course or where she was going to be, so knowing exactly where Tamme and Bill were going to be helped. It gave me a reason to fight the cold and miserable weather and get there.

They told me that they were going to be right around mile 60 out of a 65-mile ride. I wanted to get there and I wanted to be in first. The first 60miles were freezing cold and uneventful again. The only thing I can really recall is getting made fun of for wearing ski gloves and winter shoe covers. They were both heavy and soaked, but I could feel all of my fingers and toes for the entirety of the race, which is more than most of the field can say.

Numb limbs don't climb mountain roads well. Stage 3 consisted of climbing 1,200ft up Middlebury Gap, then riding down, and was to finish on the top of App Gap, a 1,600ft climb. I was warm the whole ride and I sang, "if you like Pina Coladas... gettin' caught in the rain...."

As we started the turn onto the final climb, I stripped off my show covers and gloves and I tossed them to the side of the road (I went back and picked them up later). We were all still mostly riding together again at this point. But about half-way up the road, around mile 58, I heard Torin yell, "This fucking sucks!"

It was right then I knew the day was mine. In my head, I was still singing, I knew that Tamme and Bill were right up the road, and my legs felt great.

The finish Line at the top of app gap

App gap finish line - Robbie up front. Me directly behind him. Like I said, the kid rides with heart.

My good friend and fellow teammate, Dan, started 10-minutes before my group. He was in the 50+ division. He was a big reason why I got into cycling and pretty much the only reason I signed up for GMSR in the first place. My group was closing in on him up ahead.

I had to put on a show. I threw down a couple hard pedal strokes to break away from the group and led everyone by Dan. He yelled, "Go gettem, Haff!"

I replied with, "I am about to light App Gap on FIRE!! WOOOOOO!!! LET'S GOOOOO!!!"

That was all I needed. A few minutes up the road, I saw Tamme and Bill. They started jumping up and down in the rain. "FOUR-FOUR-TWO... THAT'S BILLY! GO BILLY!! GOOOO!" they yelled.

I went. Hard.

I powered up the last 2.5miles of App Gap in the howling winds and sideways rain in under 16min and with more power than I put out for the Stage 1 Time Trial.  Robbie was right behind me most of the climb and we both put a hurting on one another, pushing each other to go faster and to not give up. It was the best kind of hurt.

Robbie rode with a lot of heart and was able to power by me with 200-meters to go. I finished in 4th place for the stage but I got what I wanted: the yellow jersey and the lead on the GC going into the last stage.

I think an unspoken bond forms between two people who suffer like that together. I threw my bike down at the top and Robbie and we hugged it out- I'll remember that climb forever.

The bond was moments later half-broken when we both saw the GC standings. I was up front, he was 2nd by ten seconds and Berk made up a ton of time by winning the stage, putting him in 3rd over-all (remember that the GC rankings are cumulative times from all stages), only ten seconds behind Robbie. The three of us- all within 20-seconds. Fourth place was 1min 12sec behind so despite an epic implosion by one of us, this would be the final podium, but in what order would be determined by Stage 4 - The Crit.

Berk and I rode down the backside of Middlebury Gap together (this was immediately after the first climb of the day's ride) with another strong rider named Luis. Out of all the riders in the race, these two were my kind of people. We would yell and hoot and holler at each other the whole way down the mountain chasing the lead pack down like little kids. Little kids who almost forgot that it was still low-40s, pouring rain, and epic-sorts-of-wet-and-slippery. We topped out at 49mph and didn't blink an eye. We literally didn't blink an eye; to do so would have meant crashing.

"WOOOOOOOO!!!"

"GIDDDDDIE UP!"

"I'M WITH YOU! GO GO GO GO!!"

"YEAHH, BABBBBBY!!

Suz and I invited Berk, his girlfriend, and his teammate, Dustin, back to our place for dinner. Lots of bike talk ensued. I learned that Dustin's brother was killed a few years back in a cycling accident with a truck in Boston. Long story short, I had an eerily similar encounter with a garbage truck going thru Harvard Square. It was early in the morning, I was heading south on Mass Ave and the dump truck was on my left, taking a right-hand turn without a turn signal on. I do not particularly enjoy being right next to a truck like that on the road, so I sped up to pass it just as it began to make its turn. I locked up the brakes and skidded into the side of the truck; specifically, the gas tank. I ricocheted off and onto the curb. Had I been going slightly faster, I would have been engulfed by the front right wheel well; had I been going slower, I would have been underneath the rear wheels.

Being a cyclist in the city is incredibly dangerous even if you do everything correctly. Though a lot of cyclists do not do anything correctly and it gives us all a bad rap. People in automobiles get insanely annoyed with bikers - sometimes because we are doing something inappropriate and we might deserve a honk of the horn. Please, if you are driving, remember that you are in a 2,000+ lbs vehicle and you might not see the huge crack in the road that a biker swerved to avoid or any other obstacles out there.
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The next day we all stood at the start line of the crit together.

I need to set the stage further here so bear with me...

I'll lead off by saying that (almost) all is fair when it comes to bike racing- less any physical or malicious contact or actions a rider can go as fast or slow as they want and they can fight for position behind other riders wheels as aggressively as they can tolerate. 

THE CAST
Though I had an awesome time riding with Robbie and Rees over the stages, and I just shared a really delightful meal with Berk and Dustin; they are both on the same teams respectively. They are going to team up against me and against each other to fight for their team to get the win. Dustin helping Berk and Rees helping Robbie. This is how it goes.

Throughout the stages, I also made a few friends. Torin is out of the running for the GC but is a phenomenal crit racer - he didn't have a teammate in the race so maybe he'd help me a little. We got along great and shared "kudos" on Strava. I gave Arturo an extra HOTSHOT at the start of Middlebury gap yesterday when he complained of cramping. I gave a bunch of lead-outs thru the previous days to people who were no longer in the running for GC. I was hoping to call in a favor or two from these guys but you never know how races are going to go or if you can count on a helpful hand.

THE STAGE
Pictured below. Described by the race director: One kilometer (.62 miles) per lap. A  six corner, very technical course in the heart of downtown Burlington, Vermont. The course has some irregular pavement, cobblestones, manhole covers and grates. Due to the technical nature of this course and irregular surface conditions, participants are encouraged to make a walking inspection of the course. USE EXTREME CAUTION

The Race Rules
25 laps with sprint "bonuses" The first four people across the line on the 5th lap and on the 15th lap get 8,6,4,3 seconds subtracted from their GC time respectively. The winner of the crit over all gets 15 seconds subtracted and then 11, 8, 5, 3 for the next four riders. This ensures for an exciting race. The person in the yellow jersey has to defend and carefully plan moves to not burn their legs out going for bonuses but also keep track of everyone else in contention. For example, a rider could be the first across the line for laps 5 and 15 and then sit back resting in the draft of other riders, then sprint up to take the win on the last lap because he hasn't put in as much of an effort to keep up with the pack. In this case, all other things being equal, the winning rider would 31 bonus seconds PLUS however much time he actually won the race by.

My race was almost over after the first turn... Close encounter with the barrier.

Without further ado, the gun went off and so did we. The "neutral" first lap went by in an instant.

My plan from the start of the race was to hammer the first five laps hard and take a piece of the first time bonus. I didn't need to win the 8seconds but 5 would be nice.  Then I could reassess things with a little more of a cushion.

I knew that these guys weren't going to drop me from the lead group. I'd be within 2 seconds of the winner no matter what, so the only thing I focused on was the bonuses. Berk needed the most bonus time so I knew him and Dustin were going to hammer hard from the start as well. Here is where team tactics come into play a lot.

Not only can Dustin and Rees help Berk and Robbie break away to acquire the time bonuses but they can also take time bonuses themselves, and hence blocking me from getting them. Even though they realistically aren't in contention for a GC position, if they get bonuses, I don't. And that means their teammates can make up more time on me.

Back to the story. As mentioned before, the first lap is controlled and neutral- we will use this as a baseline reference.

0.6miles and 6 tight corners went by in 1:42 or about 20.8mph.

The next three were a little faster at a decent pace- about 1:30ish for each lap.

Much like boxers in the ring, we were all trying to feel each other out before throwing jabs. The fifth lap came and we gunned it. Berk went off the front and I followed with a hard effort it to keep up with him. We flung ourselves around the six corners at 26.3mph. Berk won the lap and took the eight second bonus, I was 2nd across the line and took the five; Robbie didn't contest the time bonus, which I thought was strange.

My GC lead was now 15-seconds ahead of Robbie and 17-seconds ahead of Berk.

Torin and Robbie working well together off the front.

Only a few laps after that, somehow, Torin broke away up front. I was caught offgaurd; Robbie took off after him and successfully latched on to Torin's draft.

This was the absolute worst scenario for me. Torin fell out of GC contention but wants to stay up front and win the stage for bragging rights. Robbie will work with him to collect time bonuses and also lengthen the gap between him and I.

The 15th lap was the next bonus but by the 8th is when I realized how tired my legs were. I was doing a lot of the work in the pack chasing the two men up front. No one wanted to pull thru or help- it seemed like everyone was in survival mode.

I started yelling as I took corners, "Pull Thru! Let's GO! Bring em in!" I got less than a reaction and  realized why when I looked back. The person holding the position right behind me was Robbie's teammate, Rees. It was a really good tactic. He held my wheel tight for a few solid laps. This means anyone who did want to help me out would have to make and effort to overtake Rees and me to get up front. I knew if I wanted to bring Robbie and Torin back to the pack I was essentially on my own. Given their fitness levels and power, this was a near impossible task. I lead laps 12-15 solo at a super consistent but increasingly difficult effort. 25mph each lap. My legs were screaming and the two of them were still far ahead. If this continued, Robbie would undoubtedly take first place.

Rees still guarding my wheel

The Rees/Robbie duo delivered another blow at the end of the 15th lap. I watched Robbie sprint ahead of Torin for the 8 second bonus and though I pounded my pedals at 680watts for 15-seconds to end the 15th lap. My heart broke when I saw Rees sprint by me at the last second (this wasn't unexpected as he had sat in my draft for the past seven laps and now had semi-rested legs).

I not only gave back the 8-second cushion I had worked for, but Torin and Robbie looked strong up in the front. I apparently had no help and my legs were roasted. We took the first corner of the course again and I heard a spectator yell "Nine seconds!" meaning that Torin and Robbie were nine seconds ahead of the pack.

I was fucked.

I was also being fucked with. And I didn't have any idea how to fuck back. I had to do something though.

The sprint contest of the 15th lap mixed up the pack behind me a little bit and Rees was right in front of me after the first turn. I yelled out loud, "FUCK!" three times. I saw Rees grin. When I saw how he reacted to my exclamations it sparked an idea.

I yelled up to him, "YOU OWE ME ONE! LET'S GO DUDE PICK IT UP!"

This is Robbie and Torin pulling away up in the front of the pack.

Now, I've claimed ignorance many instances up until now. I won't, for a second, claim that I was ignorant on this move. I was riding in the yellow jersey and I yelled up to a cyclist on another team "YOU OWE ME ONE!" His teammate was now in the lead for GC, so, yes, at surface value, this is quite possibly one of the most douchy things that could have been said in the moment.

However, I didn't yell to Rees and truly think he was going to repay me for my efforts.

 I yelled up to him in hopes I'd catch him off guard. I was Lt. Kaffee screaming at Col. Jessep.

"DID YOU ORDER THE CODE RED!?"

Rees reactively yelled back at me with a snarl, "I don't owe you shit, dude! I don't owe you a damn thing!!"

Rees covering my wheel tight STILL!

He was absolutely right. And I knew that. But he just did exactly what I was expecting him to do. He slowed down to yell at me just enough.

Out of nowhere, Berk and Alvaro swerved by him and popped out in front. I grabbed right on their draft and the two of them put down some serious power.

Alvaro was on Team Patch. I had met and friended them at the end of stage two as. Team Patch raced super hard and no doubt they were ready to throw down some power with me.

If Rees wanted to put the nail in the coffin, all he would have had to do was keep his cool, accelerate thru and fake me out. Essentially, he could have acted like he was going to help me catch up to his teammate but really sandbag his pulls and slow the pack down.

Instead, he yelled back from the witness  stand, "YOU'RE GODDAMN RIGHT I ORDERED THE CODE RED!"

Leading the Pack

I knew Alvaro, Berk, and I were going to reel those two in. The very next lap, the same spectator at the corner yelled, "six-seconds!" we were closing in.

Another lap. Another shout, "Five Seconds!"

There were eight laps to go and the three of us were in the zone.

The first corner came around again, "four seconds!"

We caught them with five laps to go and I resumed my place at the front of the pack. If I could have beat my chest without crashing right then, I would have.

I completely sandbagged the 20th lap. Then again the 21st lap. I swear I was barely pedaling. A different spectator on the backside of the course yelled, "Come on! What are you doing?!"

Sandbagging

I was double-dog-daring someone else to step up to the plate and challenge the lead. No one stepped up.

Benjamin D Bloom took some epic pictures of this race. The full gallery is here.

A couple other racers jumped up in front for laps 22-24, but not at a pace that could have shaken Robbie or I. We knew it was going to come down the final sprint.

And he knew he had to make the first move.

I expected him to attack with his teammate, but Robbie caught me off guard heading down the hill to end lap 24 and start the final lap. He bombed around that corner hard, and he took an inside line so tight that I thought for sure he was going straight into the barrier.

Still Sandbagging

This kind of move takes a whole lot of heart, it takes even more guts, and it takes a ton lot of skill. I was in awe.

I tried, but given the previous efforts and how the race went, I couldn't come close to matching the line he took around the corner or the power he was pushing. He was off like a bandit. I gained a ton of respect for him and how much heart it took to make that move.

I could barely hold his draft. We started the final lap pushing 734-watts for 12-seconds and then opened a gap on the rest of the group ourselves. We bombed around the course at 27mph taking turns I had no idea I was capable of making.

It was just him and I going in to the final sprint. But, the way he raced, I was happy he pulled up fast and won the stage.

If you need video evidence of any of this feel free to watch the Strava Fly By here. It color codes all of us who uploaded a GPS file. I get chills re-watching it. And I get chills re-reading some of the comments on my Strava files.

The overall gap between Robbie and I was 4 seconds. The four-day race was 6hours and 24minutes and the first/second place difference was by 4 seconds.

Here is a link to the finish line video.

Racing bikes is insanely fun. I walked away with the yellow jersey, more new friends than I could have ever imagined, and a group of guys that know how to dig deep. I also took $280 for winning.

Dan, Tim, and I recapped over a beer and fries. Luis (the guy Berk and I bombed down Middlebury gap with) and his friend, Edison, who also raced, came up and asked to get a picture with me. I held back tears as we snapped a few pictures and they both sat down with their daughters and wives on the patio as we watched the woman's race. I used part of the $280 to cover my table's food and beers and then used the rest to tacitly cover their two families' tab.

This weekend of racing not only brought out the best in a lot of people, but it moved me. Truly deeply moved.