Taking one for the Team

I'm not a big race reports kind of guy so bear with me on this one.  If I do a good job, maybe I will turn this more into a story than a re-hash of yesterday's events.  Just a little background on this race they call Lincoln Road Race: I raced this last year and flatted at about mile 8 of the 48miles, got a wheel change and then was paced just up to the group only to be popped with a slight acceleration.  I spent the next 30-some-odd miles on a paid training ride.  I hooked up with another rider and spent most of my time with him.  Thanks Nate, misery indeed loves company.  Rough day in the saddle.

This year I was looking for a different result, but no one wanted to touch this race.  Marty was in when I told him I was going, but no one else.  I tried to guilt other teammates into going but to no avail.  Saturday morning I got to Robin (couldn't handle the guilt) and he was in.  Robin even knew what he was getting into, he raced Lincoln with me in last year's suffer-fest.  Daniel, who is ever-ready to race, got the day off from working at the shop.  We just doubled our size, things were looking good.  Mike even threw in his hat to go along for moral support and to remind us what a real man looks like (cast, hardware and Indy-hat).  Mike -you rock.

No flats -thank you Saint Madonna del Ghisallo, but I did find myself off he back of the break and chasing with three others, one of which was Robin.  It's always good to see another Tom's jersey in the mix.  Robin was racing like I had never seen him race, he was taking pulls that were putting me into the red.  I told him to settle down (for my sake), and to keep our band of four together.  I knew we could not catch the group of ten or so up the road with just the four of us, so I dialed it back and put the group into survival mode.

Daniel was in the break, Robin and I were chasing having shed our help we were on our own.  Marty was on his way to Fayetteville, lost -out of food and water and ready to hijack an Arkansas family on their way to Sunday dinner.  True story, one that I will never be able to tell properly, so buy Marty a pint or two if you want the eyewitness account.  It is well worth the money.

What I take away from yesterday's race:  Things don't always go the way you plan, what seems like a bad day on the outside just might be a good day with a missed turn.  Peel back all the layers and you have a bunch of grown men riding children's toys.  Really?  How serious can you take yourself when you are dressed in spandex?  This sport is beautiful, and to be a part of it is a privilege that we take for granted, cyclists can come off as elitist because we are part of something special that most people will never experience.  Take the time to enjoy every pedal stroke, remember that what you have is special and unique.