NSRRC: The Birth of (Wrong) Turning into CAT 3

Nebraska State Road Racing Championships. My first CAT3 race. Oh boy.

After getting to bed Friday (Saturday) after midnight, I awoke at 5. While waking up, I blinked once, and it was 22 minutes later! I ate a hearty breakfast, loaded the car and grabbed coffee to drive to Branched Oak. Nervous, excited, and tired; I drove out, very distracted by my thoughts, actually missing one turn and driving through the median to get back on track!

The low lying fog I encountered upon leaving the interstate was very pretty and while heading North, I gazed into the rising sun, catching heavenly compositions while not veering off the road. I passed by a country road and knew I could pass up the moment no longer.

Flipping another b!tch, I sped back to the gravel road, slammed on the brakes, and whipped out my camera and tripod. This gallery is what I captured.

This is that gallery I mentioned above.

Those that deal with photography know that exposing for the sky and foreground of something as high contrast as a sunrise can be difficult. These images are a mixture of proper exposure edited in post production and HDR images. High Dynamic Range images are a mixture of 3 or more images bracketed together, each specifically shot to capture the highlights, shadows and midranges of an image. If you have seen them before, you will be able to tell which ones are HDR images - Or can you? Out of the set, only 2 of the images are HDRs, the rest are exposure techniques in post production. The images actually do the sunrise justice too.

Moving on, I arrived at the race venue after missing yet another turn. I was early. Which is good for me. I was able to hang out, set all my stuff up and stretch out before the race. The majority arrived later and numbers ended up being pretty good for the event. Roll out started at 9 AM.

With the 2 mile roll out, moods were light and smiles were abundant. Talent was saturated with the pack with what seemed only a few key people missing from the group. It was gonna be a good race - or at least I thought it would be at this point.

Our pace was easy going with only a moderate attack to start out with on the KOM (King of the Mountain) checkpoint. We meandered around the 11.2 mile loop, steadily paced. I was feeling a bit antsy with the pace and there were a few attacks here and there, but they were always drawn back or settled in.

I needed to burn in my legs in so starting from mid-pack, I pushed away (you can't call it a sprint, but it had some speed - its kinda what I do) and took to myself for the next hill climb. No one followed, no one cared. Punks. I just kept my heart rate below 190 while chugging up the hill, it felt good, and I wasn't angered by my lone-wolf move. Earning my pretty much worthless KOM points, I coasted and slow pedaled until the peloton caught back up to me. That seemed to take many minutes.

Some time soon after this, a guy in a Monkey Wrench kit took off before the feed zone and no one followed. This is until Kevin Limpach (Midwest Cycling) launched after him. Had I noticed, I may have gone, but I didn't. They stayed way out through the next KOM and then I got stupid again and did a hard pull off the front for many minutes, practically the entire North side I think. I reeled the two of them in, and everyone else stayed on my wheel.

While recovering, Tim Farnham (Bissell Pro Cycling Team) launched off the front and that would be the last time we would see him with the rest of us. A few times we'd work together to bring him back, but our soon fizzled and he was gone for good. Tim's younger brother (Matt Farnham Team Chaos) was also there to throw water on our fire as well -- like a good brother would do (props).

Throwing one more lap in there, all was uneventful up to the final few miles. I was well cooked by this point, and could feel I would have to push myself to keep it up for another lap. Greg Shimonek (Midwest Cycling) jumped off the front and began putting distance on us. I was riding behind the Ciclismo boys and since they were CAT1s, and Shim was a 3, they did nothing about it. Kevin was there too, and since they were on the same team he did nothing about it. I think one of the Ciclismo riders kinda looked around and glanced back at me. I did nothing.

Then I jumped on it. Full rocking sprint then sat in the saddle red-lining up to Shim. We started up an incline and I went by him, as he locked in behind my wheel. He came around me as we crested the hill and we were off. I did what I could do best -- do what Shim told me to. It took me a few minutes for my heart rate to come back down as we settled into our pace.

Rounding the final corner, I had found my rhythm and I knew it'd be killer, but I could hold on for another lap. And I looked up the long hill that was the KOM climb.

"Right turn here!" Shim yelled through the wind.

"What? No... We still have another lap" I yelled back.... "Really? Are you sure?"

"Why would I lie to you? Do you want me to turn first?" -- I breathed a sigh of relief as I leaned into the turn and we headed back in toward the finish line two miles away. I looked back to see how we were doing. There was no one in sight. Another sigh of relief. If I would have been there alone, I would have gone straight *(A problem with both my counting abilities, and the race officiates). That would have been my last, and biggest wrong turn of the day, er, lack of turn.

A couple more hills and we turned into the home stretch. I lead into the corner, pretty much exhausted. My chest hurt from breathing and I tried to focus on some energy. Eyeballing the finish line beyond the trees I already knew how this would end. If Shim is ever on your wheel going into a sprint, there is a very very good chance he will beat you. We have ridden together long enough to know how we each worked...

I kicked my burners on full throttle (probably too early) and he wound up after my small gap. I countered his closeness with a few quick moves, but he was just waiting to pounce. As I figured he came around me and beat me to the line. I shot him in the back with my finger as I crossed the line. Damn that was fun!

Race over, nuf said. We had enough time to coast out, turn around and watch the rest of the guys sprint for 4th. 72 miles in three hours and some minutes change.

Thanks for the ride gentlemen. It was fun.