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USCF Masters National Championships
This
is how it happened… C'mon. Fast start. Don't embarrass yourself. This announcer didn't say anything about me. Sprint! Left turn…don't overcook it. Shit that was close! Downhill, big gear. Push it. Where is my 30 second man? Okay, remember this hill is 1.5k long. Don't kill yourself to get over it. God, I'm exhausted and it's not even 2 miles. I'm glad I don't carry a speedometer; I bet I'm only going 16 mph. Gear's too big, don't bog down…spin. Over the top…now false flat…don't worry if it feels slow, cadence. Shit Lemke's gotta be bearing down on me. Where's my 30 second man? Sprint over the top and hit the down hill. Damn…too fast. Off the aero bars; into the drops. Don't take risks. Okay now find a rhythm on the rollers. Go. There's the 30 second man at the rock pile. 5:46. has it been 6 minutes already? Wait, started clock on minute man, that's right. Pass the rock 6:06. Cool, picked up 10 seconds. Keep it going man. Damn I should have brought a water bottle. It's really dry. Breathe deep, keep the rhythm. She grew up in an Indiana town, had a good lookin' Mama, never was around but she grew up tall and she grew up right with them Indiana boys on an Indiana night… Can't see the 30 second man with all these twists in the road. I wonder where Lemke is. Don't look back! What are you thinking!? There's the 30 second man by the big scrub brush. 9:40. Scrub brush, 9:56. Still gaining. Was that the same brush pile? What the hell? She moved down here, age of 18, blew the boys away, it's more than they'd seen. I was introduced and we both started groovin', she said I dig ya baby but Igotta keep movin'. On. Keep movin' On Where did that damn headwind come from? Oh, I can see up the road. Hammer! The 30 second man is gaining on the minute man. C'mon, catch them. Lemke's gotta be gaining on me. 10 seconds. Ooooh, looks like those boys up the road don't like this headwind. C'mon Druber you ride in this shit every day. Cadence. Too slow. Up a gear. That's better. You're picking them off! Over the rise past the 30 second man. Wow, the minute man is only 5 second ahead. Is that the 1:30 man too? Awesome. Faster, Lemke's gotta be gaining. Adios dude. Don't draft me. Hit the pedals hard for 15 seconds. Okay, clear back. More riders up the road. Go! Damn, this wind is strong. Not like that one day at Garden Prairie though. Man that sucked. Focus! Cadence. Last
dance with Mary Jane, one more time to kill the paaaiiiin. That's the gate. 2.8 miles to the turn around. Ignore the dry throat. Remember the long false flat to the turn around. Boy those guys don't like this headwind. 3 more guys. Catch them before the turn around. Damn, don't blow up. 1 down. C'mon. 2 down…uphill to the turn around only 1 more k. 3 down. Out of the saddle now, Catch the tail wind…Easy does the turn, don't overcook it. Take a look at the oncoming riders…They guys I passed. Where's the green? Where's Lemke? Holy shit, it's the old style Giro helmet. That's Corcoran. He's ahead of Lemke. He's smoking! Has he gained a minute on me? No wait, he started a minute back. He's about 40 seconds up then. Don't let him pass you. Man this tail wind rocks! I wish I had a 56 front. Almost spun out in 55x11, that's close to 40 per. My balls hurt. Slide forward. Better. I wonder how fast I'm going? 15k to go. Stay ahead of Corcoran! Lemke's got a 56. Don't let up on the pedals. Pressure on the pedals, don't float. There are pigeons down on Market Square, she's standin' in her underwear, looking down from her hotel room, nightfall will be comin' soon. Oh my, my. Oh hell yes. Got to put on that party dress That song's too slow now, faster. 10k to go. 5k gone already? How long. 5 minutes or less…Go, Go. Runnin' down a dream that never would come to me. Goin' where ever it leads… That's better. I feel strong. No one is passing me. Push. Gear is too big. Must have turned out of the tail wind a bit. 12. That's better. Don't get bogged down. Holy shit, Corcoran. Where did he come from? God, he's flying! Stay with him. 2 seconds. Stay with him. Opposite side of road, can't draft. Don't give the blue coats a reason to hit you with a time penalty. Opposite side. Dammit Corcoran stay on one side or the other, quit drifting! Damn he's smooth. 3 seconds. C'mon Druber, Lemke can't be far behind. 5 seconds. 10 seconds. Push! Bringing it back! 4 seconds. God this is hard. 5k to go already? Another 5 minute or less 5k. Big hill coming up. Slower rider up the hill and another at the top. Don't lose sight of Corcoran. Don't bog down. Spin. Push. Spin. Don't stand up till after the curve, you'll blow. Corcoran gaining again. Stand up, what the hell it's nationals! Go! You're gonna blow, back off, save some for the false flat, 4k to go now hit the false flat hard. Get on top of a gear. Cadence! Where the music? Go. Go. Go. How the hell is Corcoran going so fast? 15 seconds. Go! 3k to go, all down hill! 11…churn the big gear! Stay focused, don't break aero position down this hill. Can't pedal any faster. Tuck. Road's flattening, pedal! Up and around the last corner, 500m. Sprint! 200 meters. Announcer going crazy about Corcoran's time. 44 something. Holy shit! Lemke never caught me. Hit your stop watch. 47:15…Dammit! No, wait, you started your time on the minute guy. 46:15…That's better. That's faster than last year. The
board for the 40-44 men
I would like to extend props to Brian Lemke for the motivation (fear) and Tom Petty for the cadence.
This is easily one of the most disappointing races of my life. I felt about as strong as I can remember in a while and rode aggressively yet within myself. Just before the feed zone, roughly 15 miles of racing to go, the pawl in my rear hub broke and I had no gears. I was at the front of the race trying to bridge the gap to the lead group of 6 riders containing most notably Brian Lemke and Robbie Robinette. The Vampire and I had been launching attacks trying to shake the wheel suckers and it looked like this one might have worked. After the wheel change I was a half mile behind the group I was riding in, well ahead of the second group who were minutes back. I chased hard but the gap grew until the set of 2 climbs on the road back to Park City. At the top of the first climb I began to catch riders and get back inside the caravan. It's all I could do. The leaders were well up the road by then. It's a shame. Ah, well. Upon finishing I rolled to my rental yacht called The Lovely Kathy and broke down and bawled like an 8 year old girl. Prior to that, the race was the same negative bullshit that Masters National races are known for. The Vampire was very aggressive and had several riders who whistled alerts and chased his every move. I seemed to have had my own collection of barnacles, whose only race was to my back wheel. You guys know who you are. If I raced my bike like you dickheads I'd sell all of my cycling shit and buy a bowling ball. You have no pride and you are gutless. I can hear you now at next weeks coffee shop ride… "How
did Natz go?" Of course I have no objection to getting on the wheel of an attacker, but for Chrissakes PULL THROUGH WHEN YOU GET ON YOU FECKLESS WEENIES! Again, I'd sell all of my cycling shit and buy a bowling ball. I extend props to John Bagley who rode aggressively in the group and tried to make things happen. The
podium Flail
On,
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