First Century of the Season and Past Racing Memories

Yesterday morning I was pleasantly surprised to find an email in my inbox telling me my outrageously long take home quiz for my seminar class was canceled. I decided to celebrate by riding my bike all day long. The temperatures were supposed to be in the mid 50s, but it was very windy and closer to 40 when I left the house a little before 11. So I made sure to bring some extra food and my wind jacket.

I started riding north and west out towards Oxford. It was slow going and I felt sluggish, but I just kept spinning and eating. From Oxford I continued on to the Amana Colonies via the "Highway 6 Trail." In the middle of a weekday, the traffic was not bad at all, but how it got the description "trail," I will never know.

I went through main town Amana (skipping the brewery this time) and continued on north. I had never ridden this way before. Highway 151 was a little busier than Highway 6, but it had a much bigger shoulder. I only rode it for a few miles before turning back east and enjoying a wonderful tailwind. The sun was also feeling warmer and I was finally able to unzip my jacket.

I was on the main road heading into Swisher and then Shueyville, and after a few miles I came across the mile markers from the time trial Conn Day holds out there. This was the sight of my very first bike race. It happened way back in October of 1999. Lee Venteicher had befriended me on the Iowa City group rides and gave me a ride to the race. On the ride up, I distinctly remember him saying, with all seriousness, that I could possibly win the race. I don't remember what my response was, but I do know it included a very puzzled look, as I was yet to finish a group ride with the actual group.

In the out-and-back 20k time trial, I had one of the middle start positions. I was riding hard in the beginning, mostly to warm by body up, and I was feeling pretty ok. But at some point before the turn around, when I was shifting from the big ring into the small ring, the chain fell off the ring to the inside of the frame, was snagged by the big ring and looped all the way around the crankset, finally jamming into the chainstay. I know it is hard to picture, but the chain basically made a figure eight. It took me about ten whole minutes to wrench the chain free. Luckily the frame only received a few minor scratches, and I was able to finish the race. Needless to say, I did not win.

Thankfully it was one of those three-part Conn Day races, and we still had match sprints up a big hill and a circuit race left. I remember being very pleased with the hill sprints as I made it into the final four. In the circuit race I finished somewhere in the top 10. I don't remember my overall race placing, but I do remember that Lee won.

With Friday's strong tailwind, I was probably riding into Swisher faster than I was in that race. It was a good feeling. But I was starting to get quite hungry, and I had eaten all of my bars. I took a left at the Shueyville intersection hoping that it led to the Casey's (and pizza) that I remembered. It did not. The Casey's must have been in Ely. So I just continued north and looped around to hit Ely while heading back south. This, incidentally, was the loop of the only road race I have ever won.

Also a Conn Day production, the Ely Road Race was an all category race of maybe 40 miles. It was sometime in the Spring of 2001, and my Cannondale-Midwest teammates and I decided to ride out from Iowa City. On the ride to the race, Lee, Thad, Josh, and Jim all decided that I would be the team leader for the race. This was a little surprising, since all of those guys were faster than me, but they pretty much left me with no choice.

The first lap started off at a hard but doable pace. After a couple of miles someone attacked and got a good gap. I felt pretty good and, having no idea what it meant to be a team leader, decided to bridge up to the lone breakaway rider. I made without anyone following and we were actually able to extend our lead over the next few miles.

But as we were nearing the end of the first lap I noticed that my front tire had a slow leak. As this was a small race with no support, I drifted back to the pack to see if my teammates had any bright ideas. We figured I could make it to the next corner, and hoped that some kind of wheel would be there.

And right we were. One woman came thinking she might race but decided to volunteer instead. I rolled up to her and begged for her wheel and she was more than happy to donate it. Lee, being the extraordinarily unselfish team rider that he is, decided to wait with me. Trying not to panic, I changed the wheel, and we proceeded to chase.

It took a few hilly miles, but we were able to get back on. At this point, my teammates proceeded to launch attacks. One by one they would jump away from the pack, and the rest of us would wait for someone else to chase them down. This was usually Jim Cochran. With a few miles to go Josh got caught, and I jumped very hard and got a good gap. I was able to hold it, but just barely. I won by about 8 or 10 seconds and I was followed by Thad and Lee, making it a 1-2-3 for our team.

But on Friday there was no rush, so I just cruised through the finish line and opted to forgo the victory salute. I had just finished some pizza and a coke, the sun was shining, and I had plenty of miles to occupy the rest of my afternoon. I took a detour through Lake McBride State Park, rode out to Sutliff and its 111 year old bridge (again, I skipped the beer), and then headed back home through Solon and then good old Sugar Bottom Rd. 101 miles and 6 hours of reliving the past.