Sunday, March 18, 2018

Squirrely Harvest Incompetent Move (Update)

That's what it was. There are people who would say that if you crash, it's your own fault. Of course, this is a hard pill to swallow because there is some truth to it. But let's not forget that there is luck at play as well. There are times when you crash, there is little you could have done to avoid it.

The moment I knew I was going to crash, I didn't see what caused it. I saw the bike and rider 2 places in front of me go down hard. Immediately after that was the guy right in front of me. Then me.

I found out later the first to go down was Sam Fritz. Next was Jordan Miller (I think).  These were arguably 2 of the strongest guys in the field.  They were both in the mix for the win at the end of the race (I hear).

The thing that confused me about the crash was the fact that it happened at all. We were going uphill.  What the fuck?  How does a bicyclist just fall over going up a hill?

I found out later that the rider didn't just fall over. He got knocked over as the result of a Squirrely Harvest Incompetent Move.  You know what? I'm not going to keep typing that out. I'll have to try and think up a clever abbreviation for it.

So 6 miles and 20 minutes into a 60 mile road race, my first cat 1/2/3 race. I'm standing beside my bike in great pain. I may have a cracked rib. I have a huge nasty swollen left hip.  I hit my shoulder hard enough that I thought I might have broken something there. But after a moment, I realized that the pain in my hip and back was way worse.  Bad enough that as the others got up and rode away - I could only stand there, groaning.  I was bent over my bike, watching the race ride away from me.

I knew it was already too late to get back to those guys.  I stood there helpless as the dropped riders now started going by me.

Wait a minute. Dropped riders? Oh yeah.  Unlike most of the road races I've done, this one started full out from the very beginning. Attack after attack. It was horrible.

If you're old enough to remember matchbooks, maybe you've played with them before.  There was always this fun thing to do with a book of matches. You'd take out a match and with your finger, press the head against the flint and swipe it toward your friend, sending a tiny flaming missile their way. Sometimes the match would ignite and stick to your finger.  That was usually the end of the game. Sometimes, you'd pull all the matches out first and line them up, so you could go into rapid fire mode.

That's what the first 20 minutes of this race was like. So I was hanging on but we still had 54 miles to go. People had been dropped and I had crashed. I honestly don't know how much longer I could have hung on anyway.

 After about 1 minute and 45 seconds, I climbed on and started gingerly pedaling, not sure if I'd continue.  I got into my own rhythm and went by a dropped rider after a few minutes. I could see the other 2 who had crashed way up the road. I saw them going by another dropped rider way up the road from me. I made that rider my carrot. I didn't know who it was. Yet.

It took me a little bit more than a full lap, but I eventually caught on to Rich Anderson's wheel.  He was going fast enough that I knew I wouldn't drop him, so I suggested we each do one minute pulls.  Which we did for about a lap.

At one point, we turned east with a tail-cross wind and I saw there was another rider up ahead. I was pulling, but motivated to catch that rider, so I got aero and pulled hard. By the time I caught the rider, I had dropped Rich.

So I went into TT mode. Again.  When I looked back again, Rich was not in sight, but I could see that the Cat 4 race was catching me.  With just under 2 laps to go, they caught me. I let them go by as I believed I was supposed to.  And guess who was with them?

Rich Anderson.

So we were reunited.  I didn't think that you were supposed to be able to get a lift from another group, but others seem to think that's ok. I don't know. Sounds like cheating to me.

If I had known that was legal, I would have just jumped in with them rather than letting them go by and slogging it out alone.

Update: I was told after the race that it was ok to draft with a group from another race as long as you don't "work together".  This was not correct information. I consulted the rulebook this morning:

3B5. Taking pace or assistance from any outside means is
forbidden, including holding on to a motor vehicle or taking
pace from riders in a different race that is concurrently on
the same course.

Good old rulebook.



I asked Rich if he drafted off the Cat 4 group and he said "No, I was just riding behind them."

I'm not sure what was confusing about my question.  (Just kidding Rich - it's cool. Not Really).

Anyway - I was starting to get worn out and thought I'd better let Rich pull almost 100% of the way after that. He was clearly fresher at that point than I was.  So I was sitting behind him wondering if I'd be able to stay with him if/when he kicked it in at the end.  I was kind of disgusted because I had chased him down once and dropped him again. Then he was able to get back to me. Jerk! (Just kidding - not really).

But he paid his dues at the end.

So I was sitting on his wheel with about 5 miles to go when I noticed that my front tire was going flat.

Just fucking fabulous.  "See you later, Rich," I said, "I've got a flat."

So now I had no choice but to ride on a flat tire.

Oh wait, I had a couple of choices.

1) Get off the bike and wait for a sweeper to rescue me. And get a big old DNF after all the bullshit of the day.

2) Continue to be a man for another 15-20 minutes or so and finish this goddamn thing.

I went with option 2.

No matter what though, I didn't want the tire to come off (clinchers) or to damage my wheel. So if the tire had come off or I wasn't able to keep my weight way back, I'd have to quit.

So for the last 5 miles, I had to take the downhills slow. The turning was almost at a standstill. The climbing was ok, but every crack in the road, I had to lift the front wheel off the ground to avoid hard impact.

I finished and hopped off my bike immediately. That's also when I realized how much pain I was in. I just about fell over from the stabbing pain in my back.

The first guy that hit the road (Sam) in my crash came up to me and explained what happened.

He said, "One of the Harvest guys was riding real squirrely and he kind of veered into me and took me out."

I wanted to know which one, but Sam wasn't tattling on anybody.

So I hobbled over to the car and grabbed my stuff to change.  On my way, Shim called over to me, "Did you hear what happened?"

He told me that somebody next to him moved toward him and he had to move over and when he did his wheel went into a crack and it made his back wheel swerve around or something and that's what took out Sam.

Oh - I just figured maybe Shim thought he saw a soda can and tried to tail whip it out of everybody's way.  You either know Shim or you have no idea how funny that last thing I said is.

Anyway - I consider Shim to be the cause of the wreck.  I'm sure he disagrees and that's Ok. I'm told there's two schools of thought on the subject.  I'm not mad.  Shit happens.

I've told a few people before and it's true. I consider all of those Harvest/Trek guys to be kind of like family. Like if somebody who's not a harvest/trek person starts talking shit about one of them, I get a little defensive.

So yeah - fuck that guy. (Just kidding, Shim - not really).

In Shim's defense, he did offer me some Advil. He didn't have any - but it was nice of him to offer.


2 comments:

bryan said...

At the state road race in 2009, I was dumped off of the back of the 1/2/3 bunch. This was mostly because I had broken my damn spine three months prior, but also because (foreshadowing!) I wasn't that good.

Anyhoo, the race is gone. Like, GONE. I'm not going to catch up with any of these people. This would have been, like, 20 miles into a 72-mile race. So I'm clearly going to finish last, right? Right! The Cat. 4 race comes up and passes me, so I just get onto the back and keep my head down and try to survive the next 2.5 hours. The official told me to back off and made me ride about 15 feet behind the group. If I got closer, they moved up and told me to back off. I'm clearly in last place, never going to catch anybody. It's over. Doesn't matter.

It's been a rule forever.

Flintstone R Cube said...

Yeah - I always thought so - but since it was Savery who told me otherwise Saturday when I was bitching about it, I questioned my beliefs enough to look it up.