Had a little adventure at the Nevada City Classic this last weekend, the three amigos flew in from Aspen to wreck all. having been notified via twitter, the hordes descended upon the quaint town turning it in to a roiling mass of fandom, half tailgate party, half papparazzi. As for me, i was wrecked from racing for four weekends straight and so i took the entire week before off the bike, a few rides on my single speed MTB the only thing keeping me happy and the legs turning. i was just looking forward to hanging out with a few friends, maybe going down to the river, and then having a fun father’s day with the family.

 

waiting for the start, i was chatting with a few racers and one was like “you know, Lance and co. are just going to hit it straight out of the blocks, just try and hang on” and i was like “man, you really don’t want to be that guy who’s the last one hanging on, they’re just going to make you look stupid.”

 

three laps into the race I WAS THAT GUY. i thought we were just racing, typical fast start to NC, then you reevaluate after 5 laps or so as some guys start to get tired. i look behind on the downhill and saw a sight that will forever be burned into my retinas: a yawning chasm of clear pavement. in this moment, i started to think of all the factors that would contribute to my getting dropped, and literally, i was gripped with fear. you know when you wake from a dream with a jolt and a big adrenalin boost (mine is right as i start to fall down the staircase), well i had one of those and it kept me going for about an hour, which is good cuz we were going fast enough that i couldn’t think to get a drink so something had to fuel me.

 

Lance and Levi were like machines, hitting lap times within a few seconds of the previous, shifting in the same spot, standing in the same spot, sometimes going hard on the hill just to mix it up but right back into the previous (brutal) pace as soon as it leveled. having raced with Levi on several occasions this spring, i know his style: perfectly poised and showing nothing regardless of what speed he is carrying, like a sports car on cruise control (at over 100 mph). Lance, on the other hand, was like a muscle car with LOUD pipes, all torque-y and letting you know about it too. he was standing, tossing the bike around, tugging at his shorts (if you watched the Cinque Terre TT in the Giro you know what i’m talking about) and gapping Levi in the downhill corners. there were tells everywhere, and unfortunately you have to be ProTour to read that language so i was more casual observer then anything. My main observation was that those two are F-in’ fast.

 

we came into the last few laps and when Lance went it took a second to comprehend he was attacking ME. yeah there was a big group around us (they were all lapped riders), but i was a bit confused because i was sure they had forgotten i was even there.  as the reality of the situation dawned on me i knew the best i could do was second; if i somehow chased down Lance then Levi was sure to go, and besides did i really want to be the bonehead who sat on the whole race and then contested the finish? everyone i know has a story about one of those and as a species this type of racer is considered especially vile. did i really wanted to be hated by Lance and his 1,169,913 twitter followers? It was Manifest Destiny all over again in the gold country of California, so i turned to Levi and said “I know who’s supposed to win today.”

 

With that statement, i also knew i’d be free to race Levi to the line, and if he couldn’t drop me the last time up the hill my chances were good in a downhill sprint (a 40 lbs weight advantage didn’t hurt my chances). true to form Levi had the fastest uphill run of the day on the last lap and it was everything i had to stick with him. I’m most proud of that last half lap actually, of anything i did the entire race. because it was hard, because he was really trying and so was i, and i made it. i felt a little less like a remora and a little more like a bike racer, and so gunning it for the line felt natural again.

 

Afterwards, i got some nice congratulations, a big round of kisses from my wife and kids, and then a lot of dirty looks as i tried to get towards the podium.  It was an absolute mob scene and there was no way anyone was going to let me through, they were jostling enough among themselves to get a glimpse of the big dogs. I felt like an extra, as whining about getting up there would have held no sway to these people when the only person they came to see was already up there. Patience pays though, and i eventually made it up front for the podium and a few interviews.

 

All in all a unique experience.