Date: December 1, 2002
Event: Central Coast Cyclocross Race 5
Category: Master 35+
Place: 15
Field: ~40

With my turkey trip to Chicago still lingering among my insides, I slowly arose Sunday morning to drive down to Prunedale for the 5th Central Coast Cyclocross race. Now you might be thinking “Prunedale? Do they grow prunes there?”. Well, no, but someone unsuccessfully attempted and the name stuck. How fitting to stuff myself and then head to a town with prunes… Oops, no prunes. Ok, I will replace prunes with a nice fast gut busting cyclocross race. Both prunes and cyclocross work miracles for cleaning out the system.

Two of my teammates, Stephen and John R., were also along for a cleaning. Stephen obviously wanted to truly test the miracles of cyclocross and had us stop so he could purchase an egg and sausage breakfast blob. Imagine the taste of that mid-race bubbling up from below.

Soon we were at the event and Stephen and John proceeded to warm up while I took my time. They were racing the B’s while I was racing the Masters and hour later. Ah the joys of a late start time. I got my gear together and then checked out the video equipment. I intended to film the B race but a few minutes before their start time, according to my watch, I heard the whistle and the had just started. Oops. Ok, I’ll just film the women’s or A’s race.

My race was next so I put the video gear away and got ready for my race. I cheered on Stephen and John as they tag teamed around the course. I whooped it up for Matt, Mike, and Brett as they screamed by. Glad I wasn’t chasing them.

I had bigger fish to chase. The masters category is stacked with some of the fastest and I intended not to be lapped. At the lineup they were all there. But I knew they all had turkey in their blood. Maybe an extra 3 or 4 helpings! The whistle blew and the turkeys flew… Er, racers flew from the start.

I actually felt good and rode hard from the start. The group piled up a bit on the first set of switchbacks and run-up, but there was plenty of opportunity to pass. By the second lap we had spread out, like a flock of turkeys running from a fox.

The chase was on and I was looking for the attack. Where can I pass? Where can I take another position? Should I hop the log? Mixed in among these thoughts were the yells from the peanut gallery. Stephen, John, Lauren… All around the course paying me back for my “support”. But, as the saying goes “any support is good support”.

Around the 3rd lap to go, I got myself in a spot where I had two guys chasing me and nobody close ahead. This was tough since I had to try to focus on attacking ahead and try to ignore the attack behind. I needed the John Funke “Attack, sit in. Or attack… Yourself!” yell. Then a rider was on my tail. Where did he come from? I kicked up the pace. Was I slacking? Dang, he passes me on a short uphill.

Now I’m chasing and rounding the corner for the finish line, getting ready to begin the final lap. I pour on the steam. The sugar from the extra cranberry sauce fueling my drive. Up the hill I fly, intent on putting a final gap on those behind and capturing more places from those ahead.

But what was that ringing? Was I blanking out? The effort to high? Oh shoot, it was the finish bell. I had been lapped by the leader just before the finish. I knew I should have taken him out :’)

Cheers!

p.s. Thanks to Stephen, John R., Lauren, Brett, Mike, John F. for their support.