July 4th, 2008

Well, today was a day for fireworks and explosions I guess.

I'll just cut to the chase: DNF. I'm done for the weekend.

Everything was going splendidly until the last lap. The field was huge (almost 150), but it wasn't giving me too many problems. I was moving up consistently, and although the climbs were tough (real tough) they weren't giving me too many problems. I'd say that up until the end of the race, I'd felt better than I ever had in a race before.

Then we started the fourth and last lap. Headed down the descent (hitting upwards of 55mph every time) my chain popped off to the outside. No biggie right? It's not like I was pedaling. Thats what I thought. Then I noticed my chain dangling somehow dangerously close to my spokes. Uh-oh. I gently tried ot shift it back onto the ring, but it jumped down off on the inside, and somehow got jammed up on a chainstay, locking my cranks up. I tried wiggling around and doing all I could, but there was nothing getting it out of there. Guys are flying by, trying to figure out what the heck I'm doing. I end up having to brake and slow down as quickly as I can (which, as it turns out, is not all that fast) and, of course, I came to a stop right at the base of the hill. Great. A quick clip-out running dismount flowing into a quick one finger chain fix, and I hopped back on, keeping a full 5mph of momentum. It turns out that wasn't enough. There was enough of a hill left to get me up to about 40mph, but when the field is moving at 60...

I semi-consciously decided to chase back on. It seemed like the obvious answer. I did consider riding tempo and just making the time cut (which I was sure I could do), but let's face it: I was 19th in the GC, and I was looking to move up. I knew I wasn't going to win the stage (10 extra pounds anyone?) but I was sure I could put some time into a few guys in front of me, and there was only 46 seconds separating me from the leader.

I pushed as hard as I could, time trialing through all the rollers, and took it easy only just before the wall. I hit the wall, and got many, many pity claps and cheers. I hit the steepest part right before the corner, and I was ready to call it quits. I figured if I could just make it to the feed zone at the top, I could keep going. I was starting to realize I wasn't catching back on. I made it to the feed zone, and kept climbing (albeit more gently) for another few miles. Then the bigger rises leading up to the base of the mountain hit me. They hit me hard -- too hard. I had nothing left at all. There was a delightful granite pit off to the right, so I "decided" to pull out and have a delightful cookie tossing contest with myself. Nobody won.

Still facing the climb up the mountain, and a now approaching time cut, I called it quits, and barely made it back to the parking lot.

I'm disappointed, but I'm fairly certain I'd make the same decision to chase in a heartbeat. Maybe next year.