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There are two immutable truths in life.
I'm sure there exist other such truths but those listed above are the only axioms to be experientially tested and confirmed to be true 100% of the time, without fail by this writer. If one were to triangulate Indianapolis, Bloomington and Terre Haute on a map of Hooterville, one would find a region of rolling rural roads, overhung with majestic sycamore and oak trees, flowering dogwood and crab apple tree lined streams. It's quite idyllic, really. The region is dotted with towns whose names end in 'burg and 'ville. This is where tiny, white clapboard Churches with names like "Apostolic Tabernacle" and "Word of God Temple" are situated next to ramshackle trailers whose front lawns are adorned with three generations of automobile carcasses dry-docked on cinder blocks. These lawn ornaments are left over emblems of good times past or intentions unfulfilled. Each Sunday the faithful gather in the tiny white churches to sing their Hosannas right next door to the trailer of a man sleeping off his idea of a good Saturday evening, namely purchasing a 750ml bottle of Old Grandad to share with his friends who he later curses and throws out of his trailer before smashing the empty bottle into the wall next to the television, having missed the mark again. This is the Hooterville life that John "Cougar" Mellencamp celebrates in Little Pink Houses and Small Town and most of his other work. In addition to the above, this region hosts a great number of bike races. The subject you're more likely interested in. Masters 40+ This was a master's race weekend. The Promoter did not offer a Category 1, 2 race. The intention of the Delta Faucet team represented by Smurphy, Paco, Stone Pony, Redbeard, Chuckster Legend and This Writer was to take the wait and see strategy. The other teams in the race were the Zipp Factory Team, The Indy Masters (Baters) and a small contingent or Turdles sans The Conscience of Cycling, much to my disappointment. There were about 40-50 riders in all I think. Initial strategy was to let a break with promise develop then pull it back close enough for Redbeard to jump the gap, then he'd win the sprint out of that break and all would be good. The race started aggressively enough as the attacks started to fly up the crosswind false flat leading into the first of two good climbs on the 4.5 mile circuit. Only problem was, every time a Bater would get up the road with a Zippo or a Turdle the other Baters would get jealous or greedy and they'd chase down the break. We never got to the point of allowing anything to develop over the first two laps despite abundant attempts by other teams because the Baters were chasing everything in sight. It appeared the Baters would only be satisfied with a five rider, all Bater break, but I'm sure, they'd see fit to chase that down as well. On the first climb of the third lap a pudgy bespectacled Bater rolled off the front and dangled alone about 50 meters ahead of the field. No one was chasing or trying to catch the guy, the collective, unspoken rationale of the disinterested peloton being "That will never work". The pudgy Bater remained scarcely off the front for roughly a quarter of a mile before an antsy team mate, a youthful looking red haired fellow, could hold back no longer and "attacked" and by that I mean gradually rolled off the front toward his pudgy bespectacled team mate. As the two hooked up over the rollers into the second climb of the lap, the group, mostly because the two off the front were slow, not because the group chased, moved to within 20 meters of the Bater duo. This is where I heard the most delightful exchange between the two. It went like this: PUDGY: (Convinced that the group closing in on his heroic solo effort was a reaction to his team mates "attack" rather than due to his own dawdling pace) "Goddammit every F#@*kin' week you do this!" RED: (Oblivious or in complete disbelief that the group was just off his back wheel after launching his "attack") Huh? PUDGY: Every F#@*kin' week you chase me down! What the hell is your problem?! LOOK BEHIND YOU, YOU IDIOT!! With that Red turned to see the pack right on his rear wheel. PUDGY: (To Red) If you want to ride (pronounced with southern drawl i.e. Rahhd) then Rahhd!! Go! Knowing that Red was slow and Pudgy had just used the greatest part of his VO2max yelling at Red, I saw an opportunity. I attacked up the hill. At the top I turned around to see that Red, another Bater, a Turdle and a Zippo along with. Also, we had a significant gap. In as much as I was supposed to be riding in support of Redbeard, I sat on the break for a lap waiting for Redbeard to bridge. All t while my team mates, satisfied with my position in the break rode defense. Radios might have come in handy in a spot like this but using radios in a masters race is just plain Boering. Just before the set of climbs on lap 4 I heard Red tell one of the other breakaways "He's along for the ride, we're gonna have to shake him loose." I couldn't wait. Into the hills I took my place in line for the first time positioned behind the Turdle, who was riding a strong tempo up the hill. As the Turdle pulled off, I heard Red who was behind me clear his throat and cough. You've all heard the gag noise that a rider in distress makes. With this, I decided to stamp on the pedals a bit harder and before you could say "Rahhd you idiot", Red was gone. With the break down to 4 riders we all worked quite well together. The guys - I believe their names were Gary, Sam and Bruce all did a great job in the break not skipping turns and doing their share. With three to go the remaining Bater in the break started having difficulty staying on in the climbs. He'd fight his way back on the down hill side but his distress was evident. On the final lap, the Zippo, who I thought to be the strongest in the break, attacked the hills hard. This finally shelled the Bater, but the Turdle and I were able to mark the attacks. On the long downhill cross wind leg of the course the Turdle ended up with the Zippo and I on his wheel. He was looking for us to pull through, but I wasn't going to go anywhere unless the Zippo was in front of me and he wasn't coming off of the Turdle's wheel until the sprint began. We rode this way for about a mile until the Turdle noticed that the Bater was hot on our heels, having fought his way back to near level again. TURDLE:
The Bater is almost back TURDLE: He can sprint ZIPPO and I: (Silence) TURDLE: White Flag, I'll take 3rd. With that, the Turdle pedaled again to hold off the charging Bater, while the Zippo and I assumed positions for the tailwind sprint. Zippo jumped first and I got into his wake. Having learned a lesson two weeks ago from Carter, I had installed a 54t chain ring on my bike. Once I got it turned over with that tailwind, it was all she wrote. Redbeard ended up 2nd in the bunch sprint for 6th spot. Masters 30+ Stone Pony, Redbeard and I were slated to start the 30+ race 20 minutes following the conclusion of the 40+ race. Just before staging, I felt the need to move my bowel. This was a most definitely an inappropriately timed development, but there is no resisting the call of nature. Damn. Upon rolling back out into the parking lot at the school, Smurph spotted me and said "Druber, they're getting ready to go and you still have some TP sticking out of your bibs. You might want to take that out before the race starts." I made my way through the horde of women and Cat3 (three) racers to where the 30+ riders were staged just in time to hear The Promoter say "Go". With that, Scary Harry and Pat O'D from TX Roadhouse attacked and took 4 Heroes and some other dude with them. Sill in the euphoric, sleepy state achieved only as a result of a quality Bowel Movement, I wasn't ready to go fast yet. Stone Pony and I worked for a lap to pull the break back but it was gone. We had 16 more Heroes remaining in the group defending the 4 up the road. It was futile. We cut off the chase. For the next 5 laps we let the Heroes bitch slap us. Little did they know that while they were wasting their energy knocking us around and flexing their muscles, Stone Pony and I were doing the Rope-A-Dope. With half of the race to go, one of the 4 non Hero riders left in the grupetto attacked up the second hill. Stone Pony and I followed with a Hero who because he was used to having his way with us, counter attacked. Stone Pony and I got to him and I attacked. The Hero pulled up to my wheel and Stone Pony blasted off on the long downhill cross wind section. As the Hero drove after him, I sat up as the gap opened. There were still 4 money spots not up the road so we were keen on at least getting one of them. As the gap widened, one of the Heroes, to my amazement flew past me, intent on chasing his now assured of money team mate. I got to the Hero's wheel and remarked that he should be racing for the Baters rather than the Heroes as he was so intent on chasing his own team mate. Eventually the rest of the Heroes were able to gather at the front of the grupetto and convince their mate that it was a good thing to let the break of two go and he cooled his jets. The grupetto remained status quo for another lap as Stone Pony and the Hero disappeared off into the distance. Again, in the downhill crosswind, the Heroes inexplicably began throwing down attacks. As I marked each one, I remember becoming increasingly agitated by the tactics. "What are they thinking?" Eventually I made my way onto the wheel of their final attacker when he countered the previous attack of a team mate. As we got off the front the Hero looked at me: HERO: C'mon Druber, let's go for it. ME: Why? HERO: I dunno, for the workout? With that, I accelerated away and spent the next four laps putting time onto what I found out later was a 4 Hero pace line. Up the road Stone Pony dusted off the Hero for 8th place, I managed to hold off the Hero chase for 10th. I have always been one to voice an opinion when I see something that is disagreeable. Happily I have the opportunity to give credit where credit is due this week. First - The Promoter did a fabulous job in providing police escort, police marshals at potential danger points and volunteers at minor intersections to keep traffic clear. Full prize lists were paid and the event was staged on a challenging course with ample parking and real restrooms. Well done, Sir Second - To The Lovely Kathy and her band of Rum Runner's who completed the 80 mile (Mississippi to Ohio) River to River Relay Saturday, over hilly topography in Southern Illinois. It was an epic effort with each runner tackling three 2.5 to 4 mile legs over the course of the day. Bryan, Clay, Steve, Mark, Dayna, Kim, Paul and of course Kathy…AAAARRRGGGGHHH!
Next Time…A stage race That's enough for now, Druber
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