Lookout Mountain Pillar to Post Hill Climb: 5/6/06

I had Scott on the brain starting last night. I made a pact with him that I would tear this race up, cross the line first and then celebrate the spoils with him. Race morning, things were feeling pretty good. As Jonathan and I rode out to the race to warm up, it was one of those "no chain" feelings - effortless pedaling. I knew my effort was going to be a very strong one; I was confident I could win. I recalled the added carrot that both Kelly and Diran put in front of me - to beat Scott's time from the previous year of 19:45.

At the start line, I was at the very front with Jonathan and Andrew. As the starter called out "5 (4-3-2-1) minutes to go," I collected myself. Given the race was only 4.5 miles, the anticipation was that some riders would burn rubber, kill themselves and then drop like flies. And those naive boys did not disappoint. My strategy was to bolt out of the gate, but quickly settle in behind the initial rush.

The whistle blows and we're off! The first mile is one of the steepest parts of the race, but is by no means steep. Lookout Mtn. is a small ring climb until the final two- to three-tenths of a mile. About 15 guys rushed past me, so I settled in at the back of that initial pack. There were about 80 people in our race, so I knew the selections would be coming from in front of me. It did not take long for people to blow. When one group of three right in front of me started to allow a gap to open, I jumped past them. And then there were 12. . .

Various riders invariably decided to jump to the front to try to be the hero of the day. While that served to up the tempo and shell some other riders, the tactic proved self-throttling as well; those riders also managed to drop themselves right out of contention. Two guys did come past me from behind. I upped my tempo, rode past some others, but remained in control. About 1.2 miles into it, there were about six of us left. I wasn't sure where Jonathan or Andrew were, but there was no time to look or think about anything else but marking whoever was in front of me.

Now, I'll admit that the pace was faster than I expected and had I worn a HR monitor, I'm sure my HR would have been a good 5-10 beats higher than I had planned to ride. But, I felt strong and was definitely in control. I knew right then that I would win this race. Suddenly, one guy takes off the front. Only one guy tries a half-ass response. No one else moves; they are already on the rivet. So, I know they are all toast. Time to dispatch them, so I kick it down a gear and jump out of the saddle. Pass them up and settle back down in the seat. The guy up front has about 20 seconds on me. But he's just hanging out there, so I know I can reel him in when at 3.1 miles - my pre-determined place to floor it - I will be ready to give it all I've got.

Behind me, I hear someone hyperventilating and realize the race is down to 3 of us. Everyone else is shot off the back. I hope Jonathan and Andrew are riding well. I want the guy on my wheel to help me bridge up, but he's worthless. He's cooked but is in complete denial. I veer out and force him to pull through once for a brief respite, but after about 5 pedal strokes realize he's going to be no help. This, at around 2.8 miles. My point of final attack is within sight, a series of steeper switchbacks just after a small pull-off parking lot at the 3-mile mark. When pre-riding the course with J-Rod a couple weeks ago, I punched it here and found out that it is only another 7-or-so minutes of riding from the parking lot to the finish line.

Before I launch my final bid, the guy behind me has exploded. He's done. The guy up front is still hanging strong at 20 seconds up. But I'm not worried. I know I can catch him. Without a doubt.

The time comes, and I wind it up. I accelerate through the first 2 switchbacks. Suddenly, the time gap is 12 seconds, then a couple tenths of a mile later, it's down to 8 seconds. I am just about ready to throw my entire self into this. I'm gonna catch this guy quick. But I'm not going to sit on his wheel and recover, no way. I'm going to launch myself right past him and never look back. The crosshairs are on his back and they are lit up like a Christmas tree.

Then, disaster strikes. . .

I would have won the race and am confident I would have smashed Scott's time (based on Jonathan's very respectable time of 20:50 and how far ahead the guy out front was; I'll have to see the official results tomorrow to know for sure). I was absolutely flying and no one was in sight behind me. The guy in front stood no chance. With less than a mile to go, I was going around one of the switchbacks to the left when a group of guys were coming back down the mountain (they had raced in an earlier wave). They were coming way too fast and two of them crossed the yellow line. One of them plowed right into me - about a 40mph collision.

My fork was sheared off below the head tube. My helmet cracked and I suffered a 2nd degree AC separation of the left shoulder. Basically, that means the two ligaments that hold the shoulder muscles to the collar bone area were "shredded" (as the doctor put it after examining the X-Rays). Different than a dislocation, my collar bone looks like it is sticking up about an inch because the muscles of my shoulder have DROPPED down that much. Arm's in a sling right now, nothing they can do, and I'm off the bike for up to 6 weeks. Of course, I will ride the trainer or the stationary at the gym, but it sucks to not be able to climb for a number of weeks. That means that if I can race the Mike Horgan Hill Climb on Father's Day - 6 weeks from tomorrow - I'll have done little to no climbing during that time (depending on when I can get back outside on the bike).

But, what really sucks is to not be able to race Scott's memorial race in 2 weeks. No chance in hell of that happening. That's the real rub of all this. Accolades are great but ultimately don't mean shit. My shoulder? It will repair itself and I'll get back on the bike. Life goes on, and all that. Remembering and paying tribute to Scott is greater than his newly-established memorial race, but it is still the most important race on my calendar. I'm sad that I will be missing it. Of course, I will be there to cheer on the team and participate in other ways. That goes without saying.

Finally, I need to give a BIG "Thank you!!!" to Andrew. He was awesome. Right after he crossed the line, he spun around and came down the mountain to help me. He's a former volunteer fire fighter and knows a thing or two about first-aid. He drove me to the hospital, filled out the paperwork for me and sat with me for about 3 hours while the doctors and nurses came and went. I kept telling him to go, that he had better things to do with his time. But he never waivered. A true friend that I am very glad to have.

Well, from a racing perspective, this blog will be pretty light for the next several weeks or months. I'm sure other rantings and ravings will find their place here. Whew, I can feel the Percocet working its magic. Time to go night-night.

Zzzzzzzzzz. . .