So, I was in California house-sitting. Amy's advisor and her husband had recently moved from the U of C to Stanford, and they needed someone to look after their house, and their adorable dog Dorothea, while they were away. We jumped at the chance to spend some time in the Bay area. I brought my street-track bike, because I wanted something I could both ride around and compete on, Hellyer Velodrome being relatively close by.
I decided to see what the Wednesday night races at Hellyer were like. We loaded the bike and the dog into the car, and drove from Stanford to San Jose. It was a beautiful summer night, and the park was lovely. The velodrome was nice too; not as flat in the turns as Northbrook, not as steep as Kenosha, and somewhere between them in length.
I had only been in a handful of other races prior to this, and I was really nervous. It was also very strange being in the infield, putting the bike together and pulling on the distinctive pink and black kit of Team Pegasus without any of my teammates around. Amy was watching from the stands, and the people were friendly, but I felt really isolated without my team.
Wednesday night racing at Hellyer is split into three groups: A is Pro, Cat1, Cat2. B is Cat3, Cat4. C is Cat4, Cat5. There's considerable overlap between the groups, as people decide to compete levels higher or lower than they might usually. I decided to race in C. I was in no mood to go up against Californian Cat3s, considering I was still only Cat5 back in Chicago.
First up: Scratch Races. A heat, a semi, then the final. In my heat, I came third. I remember absolutely nothing about it. It was a blur.
The semi I remember much more clearly. We started with about 8 riders. I was doing well, sitting in second place, drafting the guy ahead of me and letting him do all the work as we came up to turn 3 of the last lap. I was in the sprinters lane, and getting ready to try to pass on the outside. All of a sudden some guy flies past me on the inside of the turn! In the cรดte d'azur! I couldn't believe it, he actually gave me a fright! Before I knew it the race was over. I had finished second, behind the guy who passed on the inside. I didn't care because I progressed anyway, but someone else complained and the guy was disqualified. I talked to him after the race. He hadn't know it was illegal to pass on the inside like that.
I had made it to the final. I was a nervous wreck. Honestly, I don't know why I race. It makes me so nervous that I always swear I'll never race again... Then I get out there, and I love every second of it.
I remember the final with perfect clarity. There were three of us. It was to be a three lap scratch, but it ended up being more like a three lap match sprint. Holders steadied us at the line. The whistle sounded. We started moving forward slowly, gingerly. I tried to get into third place. I could hear people cheering as the small crowd realized that we were trying to outfox each other. We were moving so slowly, not trackstanding but riding slowly, weaving gently up and down the bank as we came into turn 1. I got into third place. The woman in first kept looking over her shoulder at the guy in second and me. We all exchanged grins. She knew we weren't going to pass her, and we knew she didn't want to lead us out... She slowed right down. We were still in turn 2 of the first lap at this point. I had an idea. Very, very slowly, I moved to the front. I picked up the pace a little. Not too much. I wanted them to think that I was willing to work, but that I wasn't trying to break. We settled. I led. Through the straight, in the sprinters lane. Into turn 3 of the first lap. I pulled high, slowed, and looked over my shoulder, as if to invite them past. They didn't bite. I knew they wouldn't. They slowed. We came into turn four... and I dived down the bank. Out of the saddle, sprinting like crazy, diving from the top of the turn to sprinters lane, I passed the start line at full pelt like I was doing a flying 200. I hammered at the pedals. My lungs were burning, and I flew through turns 1 and 2 of the second lap, leaning in, feeling the gravity. I knew I'd surprised them. I knew they had thought the cat-and-mouse game would last for at least another lap. I didn't look back. I couldn't hear them behind me. Into turns 3 and 4. I heard the bell ringing for the last lap. I crossed the start line. One full lap to go. Christ! Out of the corner of my eye I noticed people watching from the infield. I kept going, but I was getting ragged. I'd been sprinting flat out for a full lap, and I knew I couldn't keep that pace up for another full lap. I was just hoping that I'd got enough of a jump... Out of turn 2, into the straight, in the sprinters lane, and I heard the crowd get louder; someone was catching up with me. I bit down, and tried to spin faster. Into turn 3 of the last lap and suddenly I could hear the rider behind me, so I really tried to give it one last push. It worked. I pulled away. Coming out of turn 4, I could see the line. Head down. Cross. Finish. Win. Scream. Laugh. I was ecstatic.
In the grand scheme of things, winning the Group C scratch races on a Wednesday night at Hellyer Velodrome doesn't amount to much, really. But I felt great. I was proud to have won far from home and still representing my team.
I rolled around the cool down track. Other races happened, with riders going twice the speed I had gone, but I didn't care. Eventually, we lined up for a miss'n'out. I don't remember much, but I came third. I missed the final race of the night, a points race, because I thought it was all over and I'd already taken the pedals off my bike. Honestly though, I'm not sure I could have done another race. Like George Costanza, I just wanted to leave on a high note!
Even though I missed the points race, I placed third in the overall Omniun. It was a great night.
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