The Streak is Dead. Long Live the Streak!

No podium today for the 1108 boys. Hey, it was good while it lasted. The Mt Tabor Crit was a very cool course, and it would have been one of my favorites if not for the slick wet roads with patches of oil-slick algae. The S/F is halfway up the winding 6% climb and had a tight, slippery hairpin at the top where riders fell on the first lap and continued to fall regularly thereafter. Here's a little tip:when everyone standing is washing out, stay seated.

I tried riding the front with the GC guys for the first part of the race, but, surprise surprise, Paul Mach climbs better than I do. I shot a lot of bullets staying up there before I figured out I could lag climb the second pitch and then coast to the front on the downhill... that is if no one was washing out int he moss-covered downhill sweeper. I lost my rear wheel about a dozen times at various points on the course, which is not confidence inspiring, but hey, no one's got a gun to our heads; we chose to do this.

In the middle of the race was hurting pretty badly and wondering if I'd make it at all, but I just hunkered down, spun out my gear and kept on cranking until I saw 10 laps to go and then started thinking about how to win a prestigious, and very sketchy, crit. Well, most of my blood was pumping through legs so I couldn't come up with a very good plan. I pushed myself to stay towards the front and found Adam up there willing and able to do everything in his power to help me. On the last lap he took me over the top of the climb and we sailed down the descent and up even with the UHC leadout train across the flats. We weren't really strung out, and I was afraid if I tried to push into the UHC train we'd get swarmed, so I told Adam to hit, or started yelling like a deranged recluse on a wine binge. He gave it everything he had, but I had to hit it from almost the bottom of the hill and I just couldn't hold on for the win. Schmitt, that wily dog, came flying around with only 50 meters with De Maar in tow and then I almost held on for third, getting pipped at the line by Tyler Trace of Red Truck.

Now don't get me wrong, 4th in this company is nothing to shake a stick at, but if I'd had one more guy to help with the leadout, or if I were more of a man, I know I could have won that race. Its tough to be so close to an amazing result and let it slip away, but that's the breaks sometimes. Poor Phil crashed again, twice, and even though he was bleeding everywhere and trying to breathe through a broken rib he still murdered himself to get up there to help and almost made it.

Oh well, what can you do. That was a hard race and I'm happy that I have the legs to be competitive. Maybe next time we'll line it up and take a stage. I think I was able to ride extra hard today for two reasons. First, when the team, and your teammates/friends are going to work for you you simply cannot let yourself get dropped. When they're counting on you, you have to deliver. The second thing that had me going was a cameo appearance by THE Art Walker. The legend of Art has propagated throughout the land by word of mouth and lo, though it has grown, the man is still greater than the myth. Art was the coach of the Stanford Cycling Team when I was just learning how to race a bike. Art single-handedly managed the team, coached riders, took care of all logistics and proffered up nuggets of philosophical wisdom that some alums are still pondering. I could definitely hear him during the race and it was a rare treat. I wish I could have won it for him. I'm always happy to see a true legend. That man shaped the cycling experience for generations of Stanford riders and played a huge part in nurturing and building the club the taught me to be a real bike racer. He also snuck me onto the Nationals TTT team my Freshman year, and I think that taste of the "Big Show" was what got me totally hooked. Big thanks to you, Art, for so many years of hard work and for coming out today to cheer me on. If I'd had one of your whiteboard race breakdowns I probably would have won.

Time for bed. We actually have a real start time tomorrow and a real race. Up at 7am for a 103mi RR. Yeeeeeeeehhhhaaaaaaaaaaaaaaawwwwwwww! But for now, sleep.