The Dirt Field

Before I knew that I was going to the Delray Beach crit, I planned to start my season at the Black Hills Circuit Race in the men’s 1/2/3 field. It seemed like a good, low-pressure way to knock out a first race. That plan seemed out the window when Colavita scheduled me to race in Delray, but that race was on Saturday night and I had a 5:45am flight home from Florida (GAH! SO EARLY!), scheduled to land at Dulles Airport at 10:30am on Sunday.  That meant that if everything lined up schedule-wise (and I wasn’t too exhausted), I could make it out to Black Hills and use that race as my training for the day.

Between post-race events in Florida, late-night packing, insomnia, and a 4am wake-up, I got an hour of sleep and felt less than great when I got home. But I was set on racing anyway, because it sure beat the idea of riding in the chilly gloom alone. I made it to the race venue on time, registered, and headed out for some warm up laps that made me [a] deeply miss the warmth of Florida and [b] deeply question what the hell I was doing trying to race on tired legs and no sleep.

Once the race started, those doubts were largely forgotten. I felt surprisingly good, even on the kicker of a climb. Since I wasn’t sure how I’d handle more aggressive riding on so little sleep, I stayed towards the back of the field and out of the fray up front. It was fine back there – I was comfortable, feeling strong enough to finish without problems and actually having fun. There was a breakaway that escaped at one point and, at least from where I sat, it seemed like the field didn’t put up much of a chase but instead settled into a steady pace.

On a few of the trips up the climb, some of the guys were having trouble going in a straight line. There were occasional bobbles and bumps and one near miss where somebody unclipped aggressively and almost went down, but I was able to avoid the mishaps and stay out of trouble. That was until three to go – somebody in front of me collided with somebody else, I tried to make it around them, and they toppled over onto a guy who fell into me. I was lucky to land in the grass, but slammed my head into the ground in the process.

It hurt like a bitch, but a kind spectator was there in an instant, helping to untangle me from people/bikes. When I immediately lurched up to get back into the race (MUST. FINISH. MEANINGLESS. TRAINING. RACE.), he helped me onto the bike and gave me a push. I was too disoriented and rushed to even notice who was helping me, but if that was you, thank you – I’m sorry I didn’t take an extra moment to thank you for your help at the time, but I do appreciate it.

The field was turning the corner at the top of the hill while I was trying to get moving again and I figured I had a 50/50 chance of catching them. I stomped on the pedals and tried to chase, but even though the gap seemed so manageable, it proved to be too much. I was tired and hurting and had to throw in the towel on chasing and finish the final laps alone. It was a disappointing end to what had been a good experience, but hopefully that qualifies as my Official Crash of the Season and now I’m clear to ride unscathed for the rest of the year.