I could be wrong but I think my last race in Masters category was in fact my first race in Data#3 kit, a Fusion criterium back in November 2010. I won that race and was keen to keep the momentum going, if there was any momentum left after such a long break. However long ago it was, I was looking forward to this particular meet. I was beaten by Bayliss last year at the State road race and thought getting it right this time would be a good idea.
A wet and somewhat cool morning didn't worry me too much, in fact, I usually perform well in the rain so my mood was great. This, however, changed quite dramatically when I got out of the car to fuel up about 20km from Warwick - I suddenly realized how freezing and windy it was outside. This, I thought, is going to be fun.
I set up my rollers inside the hall and went into the usual business of warming up. In this kind of weather, a solid warm up will be crucial to having a good race. When I rolled up to the start line, sweat dripping off my face, hot and ready to go, I looked at the bunch I was going to race with. A lot of guys were shaking from cold like homeless dogs. "These guys can say goodbye to this race right now" I thought.
My race plan was very simple today (well, all my race plans are simple, always) – nobody was going to go anywhere without me, and I mean nobody. To do that, I was prepared to cover every move, every attack and everything that even looked like an attack. Mentally, I was ready. Legs? “Shut up legs” was my motto for today.
We started quite boisterously, evidently some people needed a warm up. I knew there was a hill somewhere, I didn’t know how hard it was. It didn’t take long to meet the hill – kind of short and not too steep but the pace was such, set by a dude from Ipswich, we lost most of the peloton right there on the first lap. After a short descend and a sharp left, I looked back – a bit of a mess and gaps everywhere. “Put some pressure on?” I thought. “Nah, too early, I need some company.” Once we bunched up, I counted how many of us there were left – 10. Good enough.
Next lap, same hill, we were down to 7.
When we came to the hill for the last time and with about 20km still left in the race, I wasn’t surprised seeing Bill Ayers (Ipswich) going hard at it, he looked like he was in good form. He wasn’t done yet as David Costanzo (Murwillumbah) went past him. These guys were on fire and they didn’t even hide it. The race was on. I knew who I was up against.
I accelerated a bit to keep pace with these two without going into the red, everything’s under control. I turned back at the top to see what kind of damage they have done – we had about 10 seconds already on the nearest chaser. “This is it” I thought, “This is the winning break.” The very next moment I hear a loud bang! - Bill Ayers punctured.
Descend, sharp left, it’s me and Dave Costanzo, everyone else is gone. And so we got into it, two of us against a possible chase behind. I reached into my pockets to get my fuel out – 2 Honey Shotz, washed it down with water. Another pull at the front, repeat. I needed carbs right now, the next 15km will squeeze every bit of energy out of me.
The first few kilometres were the hardest for me, I was on the limit and simply tried to do as much work as I could to keep the break alive. Dave was working hard, looking back after every pull to see how far the chasers were. Judging by his constant yelling, they were quite close at some point but then I found my legs again and we managed to raise the pace somewhat. When I looked back myself later, I didn’t see anybody. It’s just me and Costanzo then.
It is at this point, with about 10km to go, I started cramping. Nothing too bad but I had a few painful bites already and the legs started screaming “Stop!” at me. “Shut up legs” I said, “I want this win. I need it. Please?” I changed my pedalling, heels down, to keep the cramps away. It was working but one wrong move, and the muscles could seize, I knew that.
That last hill before the finish, I was almost sure I would crack so I wanted to go at my own pace, hard enough to discourage Dave to attack me and yet not too hard to cramp. It worked. I reached the top with functioning muscles and Dave didn’t attack. In fact, as the finish was so close now, I started to feel very good indeed.
I welcomed with great joy the 1km to go sign. I was smashed and very tired but in my head, I was as fresh as a cucumber. I wanted Dave to attack me, I wanted a fight and I wanted him to punch me first so that I’ll have an excuse to go at him. 500m to go, we still swapping turns. “Crap!” I thought, I ain’t going into a sprinting match here, I want some blood!
I shot from behind him and went for it. Far, way too far but who cares. And then I felt those bites again, the cramps were back. I looked ahead, still plenty to go. I looked back to see where Dave was. 10m back. WTF? I waited. He got back on my wheel and now it’s a freaking sprint match after all. Well, I’ve done this before, on the road and on the track, let’s see who is Abdujaparov here.
I waited for about 150m to go and then went again. Perfect gear, plenty of juice in the legs, I went faster and faster. And then I stopped. I saw this was it, Dave was too far behind, way too far. I grabbed the tops of the handlebar and freewheeled to the line slightly raising my hand as I crossed it.
I felt tired.
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