Toed the line for the second time this season.
Went alright. Learned some lessons, gained some fitness, did some decent work towards the end of the race.
Basic synopsis:
Race starts. Attack, chase, attack, chase. Repeat for 10ish minutes. Real break goes off, I miss it. More dudes go, I miss them. The two White brothers are in, so, I'm not exactly looking to drag more people up to the break, which is already large.
However, opportunities will present themselves, and you have to go with it. Get off the front with two. Roll with them for two laps. Take off on my own for 2.5 or 3. Make it up to the back end of the break as they're heading up the hill.
And then, a Baraboo Sharks junior, who I'm sure is not a Cat1/2, pops off the back. Right in front of me. At first I don't even notice, and then, suddenly, there's a 20m gap. At first, I can't even react. I mean, I'm so far into the red that I can't go above LT to save my life.
So I crawl over the hill, bomb down the back side spinning out my legs, and try to latch back on. I get within 20m of the tail end when I run out of steam.
Now, in the past, I have always said "Well why didn't you sprint to catch onto the back end of the group?" when I hear someone complain about not making it all the way up to a break, or latch back on to the main field. Well, I learned my lesson. I tried. I tried real hard. I don't think I could sprint at that point. I apologize to anyone I've said this to before; I now feel your pain.
The rest of the race was basically me being dragged around by Great Dane, who were monitoring the front of the field, waiting for Frankie Dierking to lap the field with the break. When they did catch us, Frankie tried to get off the front again, and a White brother cracked the whip behind me. 30+ seconds of chasing hell, from the S/F to the top of the climb. Job done, I returned to my place as the Grim Reaper at the back of the severely depleted field.
A White brother won, the other got 3rd. I finished somewhere in the 20s out of 40ish starters.
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