A cold rainy course awaited us at Sturbridge. Mike and I decided to do the 3/4 race alongside of Rod, Adam and Jim on his new jazzy bike.
The course was too easy. From the start, you knew it was going to be a harrowing mass downhill sprint ending in a crash. There also was a 180 degree turn early in the course which took a few victims. The course had spots where we had the whole road (although a little unclear). These roads were extrememely narrow and it was tough to move up. It took me a whole lap to move to the front and check out the action.
Upon getting there, I immediately tried to attack. Too early. Cat 3s will chase everything down early. After recovering, I tried again. More or less to get them used to me attempting to go off the front and getting caught.
Jim was feeling ill and had to drop out while Rod flatted, leaving us a little undermanned. Mike got stuck in the back and took a long time to see the front while Adam patiently watched and waited. On the one meager climb, I lead the group over several times attempting to break it up a bit, but it was too short and not steep at all. Fat guys were bombing by me on the downhill. I kept testing the field and making minor accelerations to see where on the course I could get away the best. There really wasn't any. On the last lap Mike attacked at the start/finish and stayed away with another guy just off the front for a bit. I countered the move just after another did. It looked good. We had quite the gap. I really had to work hard to chase him down and when I did, I was totally blown. Unfortunately, we hit the 1/2 mile climb. I figured it'd be easy and with a gap we really could open up a lead. But, I failed miserably and couldn't even hang with the other guy as the legs and lungs said NO MAS!
It was dissappointing and I got swallowed up after the hill and drifted back into the field (too far).
As the long drag to the finish came up. we thought we had the whole road, but were mistaken. It was scary seeing cars come at us as we are hammering at 35+ mph. Mike and I were near each other moving up when a crash occured with about a mile to go. I got around and he sat up. The group in front gapped the field a bit and I figured I could keep rolling. As the sprint began, I was in the mix as we musta been about 20 wide at the finish. One knuckle head didn't feel he had to keep his line and took out a bunch of guys. I had just sat up figuring I was out of the money and bodies were sliding towards me. I figured to be safe, but a guy near me wasn't and he went down and I was the next domino sent flying over my bars onto my head and shoulder. After slamming into the wet pavement, I was ok except for a deeply bruised shoulder and a cracked helmet. It took four days before I could lift a beer to my lips to ease the pain. Thank goodness we had plenty of straws.