Tail gunner

Photo by Dan Farnham

One of the really good things about getting destroyed at Wednesday Night Worlds on a weekly basis is learning your place in the grand scheme of things. That's not to say I don't aspire to be better — to be faster — but I know what I'm capable of accomplishing. Perhaps more importantly, I know what everybody else can do, too.

To say nothing of current form or readiness, just reading the start list for this weekend's Le Tour de Husker (results here) gave me a pretty good idea of what was in store. Of the 16 starters, eight were Cat. 1/2 riders. And seven of the 16 were from one team. It was fairly obvious how this was going to go down.

Saturday morning dawned cold, cloudy and windy. With a small field and 60 miles or so ahead of us (and a TT in the afternoon), I figured we'd chill for a lap and then open it up. In reality, we chilled for about five minutes. It was nuts.

Up the big hill that marked the start of the race loop, a few guys rolled off the front — pretty standard — but then a few more guys jumped across. And they jumped hard. I was boxed in at the time, but when I got loose I tried to follow them across to the lead group. I knew full well that I probably wouldn't be able to stick with them for the entire race, but given what we were up against (three Cat. 3s against a loaded field of Cat. 1/2 riders), I felt like I had to at least try to bridge.

That did not work.

Like any good Cat. 3 arsonist, I tossed matches all over that first hill in a pretty futile effort to get across. When I realized it wasn't going to happen, I re-integrated with the chase group and sat in for a bit. We started rotating with a heavy tailwind on the back side of the course and appeared to be minimizing the gap. When we got to the dam — infamous for crosswinds — we were still rotating. On the tail end of a pull, two or three guys pulled through hard, gapped the group and tossed a couple of riders off the back. Including me. Thanks, guys.

And then they guttered the bunch. Even more awesome for chasing back on. That's not to say I could have done anything to begin with, but it wasn't helpful.

Eventually, I caught up with Vaughn and we cranked out the final laps together. My back was killing me most of the way, but it got better toward the end ... somehow.

(Three hours of downtime.)

Time for a late-afternoon TT. Still windy, but quite a bit warmer. Considering the very, very minimal amount of time I'd spent on the TT bike before the race, I was pretty happy with things. I felt comfortable and efficient and fast. I had an OK time — nothing special, by any means — which was encouraging after that road race debacle.

Sunday morning also dawned cold and cloudy and windy. Two years ago (almost to the day), I ended up in the hospital after a crash on the same crit course. I wish I could say I blocked it all out and drilled through the race, but I didn't. I thought about the crash every time through the corner. Mostly, looking at the semi-sketchy surface, it went like this: "How did I blow it through this thing again?"

I wasn't scared — as a few thought I might be — so much as focused on staying with the bunch and riding a technically smooth race. I knew I didn't have the fitness to be up front, so I stayed in the back.

About two-thirds of the way through the race, Spence slid back and told me to get up to the front — thinking I was hanging in the back to stay safe. Actually, I hung out in the back because I didn't want my lack of high-end fitness to cause gaps for those who were better equipped for a 60-minute crit. I really just wanted to stay out of everybody's way.

Regardless, I did try to take a flyer with about 20 minutes left, hoping maybe they'd let me float away. Again, that didn't work. But I had to try, at least.

Overall, I finished probably second or third from last, which I'm not too concerned about. I got some good race work in, and identified a few weaknesses that will be improved upon before the next go-round.