Little Out of My League

My father, a really smart guy, with many words of wisdom always told me " Don't ever show up to a gun fight with a slingshot" Well, I listened to him usually, and took his advice for most things. For some reason, I didn't listen to him yesterday at the Superweek Evanston Criterium, Masters 30+ 1,2, 3's race. Or let me re-phrase the category as follows: Guy's who happen to turn 30 something this year, and are national caliber cyclists, former Olympic team members, recently retired professional cyclists, national champions and a couple of category 3 racers, who squeeze in about 150 miles per week training.

This is what my competitors "weapons" looked like on the starting line.

Started off as planned, stay in the top 10, and ride wheels. Well, the 30 something+ miles per hour up the front & back stretch started to take it's toll. I kept saying, when is this going to slow down? It didn't. Actually, the race promoters were throwing out $100 primes, to make it even faster! AAAGGGHHH!

Mid way through the race, I was struggling to hold last wheel. Just couldn't physically do it. I have been racing masters 30+ all year, and finished in the top 1/4 of the field, most every time. I actually wish I had an excuse, but did not. I knew that pre-race, all was good, bike OK, lungs OK, legs OK. I even put my Big Boy underpants on that morning.

Got popped off the back. I quickly remembered what Edgar, President of my fan club & alter ego told me: "winners never quit". So, I got together with 4 other "off the backers" and we trudged on. We dropped three of them, and kept on at about 25-27 mph, nice painful pace. Coming into the final lap, we got pulled by the officials, as the field was rounding the corner behind us. Dang! I couldn't give anymore. When you give 110% and still get pulled, nothing else I could do.

I guess I should have listened to my Dad. "Don't ever show up to a gun fight with a slingshot".