Eating Mud
Northern California has been getting drenched for the past couple of weeks, and I value my sanity too much to go riding every day in the cold rain. So other than some training on the rollers, I hadn’t prepared much for the Early Bird Road Race. It’s a small race, so my lack of saddle time didn’t worry me too much.
After I finished my last final Friday afternoon, went home, and shaved my legs, we left to have dinner at the Old Spaghetti Factory in Stockton and arrive in Patterson the night before. Before going to bed we read a message on the Velo Promo website that county vehicles would be clearing the road of rocks that had fallen down in the rain. Great! Rocks + Wet roads = Flats We woke up Saturday morning to the sight of rain, which we hoped would stop pestering us in a few hours. After a Starbucks breakfast of a maple nut oat scone and a butter croissant, registration, and a short warm-up, we were ready to start and the rain seemed to have given up for the time being. The Pro/1/2 field had nine starters including myself, and my dad and my brother were in the Cat 3 field of about twenty. I was hoping that the officials would let the Pro/1/2s race with the 3s, but the peletons were large enough for that not to happen.
Soon after we started, the rain did too. One of the three Chico Corsa guys in my race attacked at the beginning for whatever reason, and we promptly reeled him in. Then one of the other riders from Chico pulled us all the way to the climb while my face got sprayed with mud. As soon as the climb started, the 3s caught up to us, so all of us were in a jumble the rest of the way to the turn-around. Despite my minimal preparation, I felt good and was the first from my race to get up the climb. Then I tackled the cattle-guard-ridden descent at a comfortable speed. Eventually I was in the lead group along with the third Chico guy and a rider from Reno Wheelmen. But I started to feel increasing resistance from the bike, and a little bunny-hop confirmed my suspicion that my rear wheel was flat.
I wasn’t too bitter about my misfortune. No biggie. I just rode back slowly, destroying the tubular in the process. At least I had the opportunity to take in the scenery: the clearing sky, a small river, grassy pastures, and countless cows staring uninterestedly at the dirty passing rider with the noisy wheel. Eventually I finished (last). My brother’s luck wasn’t too hot either; he hit a pothole, flatting the tire and severely hurting the rim. He still put in a great effort and finished seventh. My dad placed fourteenth after helping Alex. The winner of the 3s was fellow junior Daniel Farinha (San Jose Bicycle Club).
With only one more semester of high school remaining, I can finally relax a bit. At the same time, I’m a bit worried about how I’ll remember my high-school years, whether my memories will be dominated by studying and boring training rides. I’m hopeful that my last season as a junior will be particularly memorable.