The Last Night of Track Season

For the last night of the track racing season I went up to Kenosha with the team. I was looking forward to racing there because it’s just a more exciting velodrome than Northbrook. It’s shorter, steeper, and usually has a better atmosphere. I hadn’t raced there since Velocity, so I was pretty excited…

Except that I wasn’t feeling fast. Racers will know what I mean, but I’m not sure I can really explain it. Sometimes you show up at a race and you just don’t feel like you have it. It’s not about confidence, necessarily, it’s a weird, almost physical feeling, like your legs feel imperceptibly heavier than usual. I just felt off, but maybe I’m just saying that now, looking back? Nevertheless, I registered and somehow managed to score 666 as my race number. Yeah, it looked pretty cool but I’m fairly certain it was cursed.

Damn you!!

The MKE crew of Team Pegasus was there, of course. I hadn’t raced the Tuesday night races at Kenosha before, so I talked to Cale and Andy about what to expect. The main difference from Northbrook was that there was no Cat5 group, you started at Cat4. But not to worry, they said, I would do fine. I think Andy even said I would definitely win money. Clearly, my over-inflated reputation had preceded me. Doing pretty well at Northbrook, and then coming 4th at Velocity and winning a bunch of races out at Hellyer had convinced everyone, especially me, that I was fast. This night would be an object lesson in not believing hype.

Locals were setting up their little folding chairs on the green hills and slopes that overlook the track as we lined up for our first race. It was to be a win-n-out, my least favourite type of race. A set number of laps, with the winner of each lap dropping out: whoever wins the sprint for first lap is 1st overall, whoever wins the sprint for the second lap is 2nd overall. I’m not much of a sprinter, but I’d seen someone come 2nd to Jeff Perkins a few weeks before, at Northbrook, so I had a plan in mind: get to the front, grab a wheel of whoever breaks, keep it going after they drop out and hopefully take second or third. We started, and I did exactly that. Except I wasn’t the only person with that plan. A few of us broke at sprint speed from the jump. Guy won 1st and dropped out. I was on the wheel of the guy who was now at the front. “If I can hang on,” I thought to myself “he’ll take 2nd and I’ll try to keep it going to take 3rd.” I kept spinning, fast through the second lap. Guy took 2nd and dropped out, leaving me at the front for a full lap. Coming up to the line for 3rd and I was absolutely sure I had it, when suddenly someone passed me to take it. I think it might have been Lyle, who came down from Madison for the night just to crush me.

By then I was exhausted. Not getting third sucked. The winners had all dropped out, but I was still in there and basically I’d been sprinting for three laps straight! Still, I tried to keep it going for 4th, because now I just wanted the race to be over. At the front again, I was getting ragged and sloppy. I came out of the last turn of lap four and I saw the line. I was almost there. It was almost over. My lungs burned. My legs screamed. And, right on the line, someone got ahead. Just a few inches, but enough. They took 4th and dropped out. In a moment of petulant anger I screamed and hit the flat of my bars with my fist. All that work, sprinting from the start, trying to stay away so I could drop out early, all for nothing. I was absolutely dying. I couldn’t breathe. I can’t even remember if I finished the race or if I just dropped out immediately.

Photo of me after the win-n-out, by Jamie.

I was done. I had put it all out there, in the first race, and couldn’t do it. I was too slow, and now I could hardly breathe and my legs were shaking. Dejected, I sat there, trying to get my breath back. Other races happened around me. Eventually, it was my turn to race again, but I couldn’t do much. A pro-level Madison, the night’s main event, was fun to watch, but all I could think about was how certain I had been, how certain my team-mates had been, that I would win something. It was the last night of the season. It wasn’t how I hoped it would end.

And yet, I had a good night. Hanging out with the team and seeing the MKE crew is always fun, and I learned a lot. I learned that the racers at Kenosha are fast. I learned to not let expectations fool you. I learned that being at the front is not always the right move. I learned that 666 may look badass but is almost certainly cursed. And I learned to never, ever race win-n-out. Ever.