Eden Road Race

The third and final week of the "spring classics" for me.  Legs sore, body tired, and sense keen for the Eden Road Race, knowing that coming across the finish line affords a much needed week off of travel and racing.  To allow my body to catch up to and adapt to the stress of training and racing that has been placed on it since the beginning of November with all those base miles and work outs on the CycleOps Fluid 2 trainer when the snow made travel difficult if not treacherous and the mercury dipped into the single digits and below (those are Fahrenheit degrees). 

As we approach Great Falls, MT, the home and start of the Eden Road Race we are afforded a brief insight into what the day will hold with hitting a major detour in the road which draws us 20 additional miles and 30 minutes of travel.  However, knowing that the detour is traveling into similar terrain and direction of what the race will proceed, I keep an open mind to see what the surrounding grades are like and how the road rolls and moves, almost as fluid as the creeks and rivers that bisect the landscape.  Studying the course profile on the race flyer, while about the same as experiencing a prime dining location by reading the menu, gives the indication that there will be some climbing today, however from seeing the profile from many of my training rides I know they can make the course look deceptively steep, so I am comforted in knowing that, while there will be some climbing, it probably will just be a "steady, gradual grade."  "Lord, thank you for the opportunity to spend this day in Your beautiful creation, riding and racing bikes, and thank You that there seems to be no wind!!!  Father, You are the amazing God!!!"

Upon arrival at the start, business sets in.  First it is to get signed in, and out of curiosity see how many CAT 4 racers are singed in and expected for today.  At that point I am the only one with 5 to 7 expected to show.  "Lord, I know we need at least 5 racers in my category for upgrade points to be awarded, please give me peace about this, I know You are in control.  Thank You."  Then it is off to get the bike set.  Today is the first day that I will be racing my new bike.  A BMC SLC01 ProMachine with a full Sram Red gruppo, carbon bars and stem, rounded out with the Enve 65mm wheels that came through CycleOps and has a PowerTap G3 rear hub.  All together it weighs in a little over 15 lbs, which for a 61mm frame I am quite pleased with.  Having it built and fitted the previous week at the Spoke Shop in Billings, MT, and about a 120 miles put on it over the previous week, I was more than ready to see how it would perform in a race.  "Thank You Jesus for the opportunity to ride and race a professional level bike, I know it is completely by Your hand that I am here today!!!" 

After a good warm up on the trainer it is off to the road for a few different warm up drills that I had gotten from my coach at the Flamme Rouge website.  Feeling that "just a little bit of burn" to let me know I am firing on all 8 cylinders and that everything is primed for a great race.  With building anticipation as the night greets the morning sun, I come up to the start line.  "Thank You Lord for today, that You did provide 5 racers in my category, today is Yours."

With that the group of Cat 4 and 5 riders, about 15 of us in total, depart the start line and begin the gentle cruse up the Missouri river.  Nothing exciting, no show boating, yet it is pretty clear who the players for the day are right out of the gate.  The 5 Cat 4 racers and 4 of the Cat 5's are keeping a good tempo and all taking turns in the front.  Five miles in the course takes a sudden departure from the Missouri river and begins to climb into the high and rolling prairie at the base of the Little Belt Mountains.

The first attack thrown is not by rider but by the road with an abrupt change in grade from gradual to work.  The peleton feels the pull as we are gradually stretched to the point where there is a break.  Without looking back, the hill subsides having done its work and gives a just reward, howbeit short to those who faced the challenge and did not back down.  Soon this is learned as the nature of this race, good climb, short descent, good climb, short descent and thankfully almost no wind  "Thank you Jesus."

And then it happens, while sitting 2 wheels back on one of the longer climbs, someone goes for it, legs wound up as a snake ready to strike its prey.  The first real attack is launched.  Knowing that it is better to join and hang his wheel than to try and bridge the gap later, a quick drop of a gear crisply shifting into place on the new Sram Red rear derailleur, an explosion in the cadence and the 15 meters are quickly consumed as fodder for the road.  The sound of labored exhales, quickening breaths desperately cling to my ear as the peleton's grasp on the break begins to fail.  "Only a few minutes, just like all those hours on the trainer this winter, just like the CycleOps fluid 2 trainer, you beat that this winter, beat this break now!!!" 

After a duration perceived to occupy more time than in reality a bend in the road affords a quick glance and the knowledge that a break is truly established with myself and the attacker, Jesse.  "Thank you Jesus, to You be the Glory!!"  A brief discussion yields a plan of 30 second pulls to build a more sustainable gap, with the concerted efforts being in the down hills while still maintaining an aggressive pace on the up hills.  Each time I take my turn, there is a strong focus on the not just maintaining a good pace and not relaxing but trying to push, knowing that in a few brief moments I will be back in the slip stream enjoying the pace that was just established with significant less resistance.  As the miles are pressed out under the narrow band of contact of tire and road we find ourselves not just climbing but of the sensation of reaching for the sun.  For in the high Montana prairie there is no cover, no protection from the source of visible light radiated from the sun (Christ Jesus being the true Light of the World!!!).  Yet without so much as an acknowledgement of climb well down the road falls away on an earthward plunge ever accelerating us away from heavenly loft that the final climb had deposited us on. "Enjoy it now, we are going to be climbing back up this in just a few short minutes." 

Again I find myself thanking the Lord for the ignorance of not scouting the course more than a course profile. For the intimidation of a hill of this nature, an average grade of 4 climbing to well over 6 percent for a duration just shy of 4 miles, quite possibly could have done me in.  At the bottom after an all to short of a run out, is a cone with a course official directing us that we are at the first turn around and time for the suffering to truly begin!!!  Yet as we engage the initial battlements of the climb we pass the 1st chase group about 35 to 40 seconds up the road.  This I know is encouraging but no cause to let off, as this tempest before me will need to be scaled not once but twice!!!  As the grade begins to come as an onslaught against my legs in the form of lactate build up, causes a scream for reprieve.  Yet, rounding a slight bend brings a view of the top and a fresh wave of hope and renewed strength washes over me and by the Grace of God carries me to the top.  A breath is allowed but the pace is not lightened as we mercilessly give back to the road that which it just gave to us, fighting to gain seconds between ourselves and the chase. 

 

Almost as soon as the crest of the hill is a thing of recent history, the second turn around in the course comes and casts us back toward the precipice of the climb.  The only relief that is afforded is the descent in which tucking and allowing exerted muscles an opportunity to regain a portion of that which was spent.  The six miles from the second turn around to the third and final turn around comes as the a morning alarm after too short of a night.  Again it is back to the climb, yet this time with the knowledge of what is to come.  Once at the top of this hill the race will be on for who will claim victor of the day, with a gradual rolling descent back to the finish, this climb is not one to loaf or take easy, but to ensure that not only do I not get dropped but to climb strong with the least possible outward show of suffering.  About two thirds the way up, a quick drop of the gear, stand up out of the saddle, and continuing to crank through the steepest pitch of the climb brings be to the front of two of us fighting for top podium honors.  However, the advantage to being the second wheel is that you have a mental goal of staying with the lead, of not getting dropped.  The goal no longer is the top of the climb but rather hanging on the wheel.  And true to form this is what happens, while the pace has livened up no gap is established (however in the post race discussion, it turns out that while I thought I was on the brink of not being able to keep up the pace, so was my opponent, "if only I could have dug a little deeper, been willing to suffer a little more..."). 

 

Upon cresting again victoriously, not in breaking away, but it gaining the summit, which in itself is no small feet, the race takes yet another turn.  I know that in a short 10 miles the uphill sprint to the finish will be upon us and not fully trusting in my ability to win the sprint, an attack to turn the last miles of this endeavour into a time trial is launched.  Up and down rollers, blowing through the point where we previously turned around, watching the mile markers on the side of the road slip past.  I afford not a look behind, knowing that even that could be the difference between 1st and 2nd.  "Lord Jesus, thank you already for the victory of bringing me this far in this place, You are amazing!!!  Please carry me through the finish."  Passing the "3 mile marker" the road shifts that I can catch a glimpse of a shadow bearing down on my rear wheel.  Knowing that at this point pulling away is unlikely at best, a decision is made to pull back on the reigns and allow the legs a few brief moments to recover before the final test of the day.  With the slowing come the return of conversation.  Talking of family, kids, the race and the finish to come. 

 

Yet without the notice of the passing of time, the 1 Km sign is passed and unspoken we both know it is time to go back to work, we can continue with the conversation after life giving oxygen has returned and refueled the muscles which are about to be used until empty.  Desiring to be the second wheel back I fail in my bid, yet still find my final pace.  The final 200 meters is a good up hill sprint, about 3.5% and the sight of victory just beyond.  Knowing that I can not hold a full sprint for 200 meters on this kind of grade and not wanting to wait to be reactionary to an attack, I launch in at about 125 meters, cranking up the rpm's, getting back on top of the wheel, coming up out of the saddle, not aware of anything else in the world as the sole focus just beyond the finish line consumes all that I can muster, yet the scream of my legs is deafening.  With 25 meters to go, truly an imperceivable amount of time and distance in the view of the previous 46 miles, I feel my legs begin to fail, and see the shadow that had been tagging at my side catch and just pass me as we cross the threshold of determining the final victor.  "Lord, I wanted to win, but I know You have a plan, and I know I gave it all I could.  Thank you for showing me where I need work in my training.  And 2nd is still points, so thank You!!!  To You be the glory and praise and honor both now and to come.  Amen"   

Peaks to Prairie 2013

Honestly this was a race that is not high on my priority list.  With my goal go upgrade to CAT 3 by the end of this cycling season.  This is done by amassing a total of 20 points in USAC sanctioned mass start races.  Points are gained by placing well, and the bigger the field of equal or harder competition.  At this point in the season I have gained 7 points by the grace of the Lord for winning the Rocky Mountain Roubiax the day previous.  This race, the Peaks to Prairie Adventure Race is a local event, that while it does draw a crowd from the surrounding region, is not a sanctioned race, and to top it off it is a time trial.  The true test of a cyclist.  Rider against the clock and no one else, no drafting, no final sprint to determine the winner, just rider, the wind, the road and the clock, which while is a test of a cyclist does not amass points for upgrading.  This time trial however will be a little different, in that while we each will have different start times (as our runners come in) the first to cross the line and hence get their team's paddler into the water, wins. 

Peaks to Prairie Adventure Race is a 3 stage race.  Starting partway up the Beartooth Pass with a 9.3 mile down hill run into Red Lodge, MT.  The second stage, where I am staging, begins in Red Lodge and assaults highway 78 for 48 miles to Columbus, MT, where the final stage begins.  Here the firmament is left for the swift flow of the Yellowstone River.  A 10 mile paddle, a quick jump out of the boat and sprint up the bank to the finish line.  It is almost par of the course for there to be some level of inclement weather along the race route.  The first year I competed, doing all three legs solo, it snowed on the run, blew a stiff head wind on the bike and a nice head wind with a freezing rain to finish the course.  This year I am competing with two other elite athletes to make up Team Steepworld, representing the Steepworld Climbing gym in Billings, MT. 

The runner, Brian Potter, a former college distance runner, whose times and training distances makes my knees and lungs and respiratory system emit a scream that can only be described in the death throes of a prey being overtaken by its predator.  Our paddler, Dave Bankley, is not just the strong paddler that will pull the final leg of the race and ensure that we are on top at the finish, but is also the brains of the team as it was his idea to bring a group of us together for a shot to win the entire event.  Knowing the expected times, baring to much inclement weather, Brian is expecting somewhere around a 5:20 minute mile for the duration, while this may not be the fastest on the course it will be a showing that will place us in first ten runners in and bikers out.  Dave is confident that as long as he is in the water within a minute or two of the first will be able to over take and overcome to bring home the victory.  That leaves me to make up as much time as possible on the bike.

The morning air is cool, yet not crisp as it often can be this time of year.  There is a softness to it that comes with a rise in humidity over the dry mountain air.  Humidity with a over cast sky is an indication of moisture to fall at some point during the morning.  Taking the bike off the top of the van and quickly setting the frame upon the CycleOps 65mm tubular wheels, the rear of which is build around a G3 powertap hub, to give both a gauge to exertion and knowledge of how much more I can push; these are the definition of speed.  "Thank you Jesus for the opportunity to race on these wheels, yet all the equipment in the world will not make a difference if you are not the one in the driver seat, so Lord today is Yours, take it and use it for Your glory!" 

After a good warm up it is to the staging area to await the anticipated call of each team's number.  The first time the teams are stacked against each other and the first time the world knows where the initial standings are.  1st number called out, signifying that the runners are about a mile and a half out, not our team need to keep waiting.  Yet like the first drop of rain from a storm, the frequency in which they come increases rapidly.  A duration of only about 45 seconds passes then our number "407" goes up on the board.  "Here we go..."  warmers come off, knowing that what ever cool there is right now will all but vanish within the first few miles of the course.  Standing their, while the duration is in the order of less than 10 minutes seems an eternity.  The wait, wondering where they are and beginning to sense that maybe I should have left the warmers on a bit longer.  Passing the time is spent by chatting with other racers and checking out their bikes.  We all are a bit cool.  "keep your composure it will start soon."  Finally, the first runner comes in and the excitement which had us on pins and needles instantly intensifies.  "This is real, we are really going to do this.  Lord Jesus, to You be the glory, please help!!!"  Then the second and third runners come in and then the fourth.  "Where is he...there"  "Game time." 

As Brian comes through the gate a quick call of his name directs him through the hypoxic fog that I am sure he is in, and the pass of the timing chip is made, a 10 meter dash across the timing mat and onto the bike.  "settle in, it starts with a hill."  Two 90 degree corners right out of the gate and I am climbing the first hill of the day 10% for a little under a mile "OUCH!" and with that it goes from 4 in front to 3.  The first 19 miles of the course are rolling hills ranging in grade and duration from easy to hard yet always with a reward of a fast down hill on the back side.

With the fight on, the road throws its one ally at us, the wind.  Not only does it buffet the 65mm deep rims, which keep with their form to help the air slip over them with as much ease as possible, but also rider and bike.  "Lord Jesus, I know everyone else is fighting the same thing, but this hurts"  As the miles push on so do riders 2 and 3 slip back behind.  A look down at the Joule GPS indicates that I am sitting around 365 watts and feeling pretty good.  With only one rider ahead and him coming into view it is time to figure out a stately.  I know that as soon as I pass him I will have a target on my back but will also be gaining needed distance between us.  I decided to taper back for about a mile leaving a gap in the order of 50 meters or so.  Not that it provides any physical advantage but what it does provide is a mental wheel to follow and a slight rest decreasing my wattage down to around 295.   Coming into the next hill, 5.5% for about 1 km "Okay, lets get it.  Jesus, please carry me."  With a steady build of speed, the dropping of a gear and a "nice work, keep pullin' hard" as I pass I know that I have just put a large bulls eye right on the back of my jersey, "never mind, just crank and do not let up." 

Refusing to succumb to the temptation to glance behind and see how the gap is looking a quite voice begins to grow as I am coming into the last hill of the day.  Without even giving it a chance to reach the audible level "SHUT UP LEGS" dispels it or at least drowns it out to where its cry of pain is not heard over the rushing wind.  Cresting the top and into the final 29 miles which averages about a 1.5-2% decline with a few rollers but mostly straight.  "What was that.." something had hit my helmet, another one.  Sure enough it was the leading edge of a rain storm dropping down to the valley from the heights of the Beartooth Mountains.  "Lord, thank You for Your perfect provision."  The valley had been and is in a drought, yet the Lord in His great mercy is blessing us with some much needed moisture.  Never mind that it is in the middle of a race.  Just as Isaiah 55: 11-12 says "As the rain and the snow come down from heaven, and do not return to it without watering the earth and making it bud and flourish, so that it yields seed for the sower and bread for the eater, so is my word that goes out from my mouth: It will not return to me empty, but will accomplish what I desire and achieve the purpose for which I sent it."  "Lord thank You for the rain and thank You for Your word the Bible, which You have given us and use to bring forth new life and fruit in the lives of Your people as You have desired and designed it to do!!" 

To say that I am familiar with this portion of the course would be a gross understatement, as it is part of my regular training route, know each hill, bend, turn and even crack in the road.  Yes, every crank in the road as there is one about every 20 to 30 feet for 3 miles in one stretch before the portion of the road that was redone 2 summers ago.  While it is a bit frustrating I use the breaks to my advantage in that I know the lines though them that afford the least bumps and therefor the most speed.  It also means that I am almost to Absarokee, the only town on the course of any size.  Approaching town, I half expect to see my wife and possibly a few people from my church standing out to cheer me and the other competitors on as we battle against each other, the road, the clock and the wind.  With this knowledge, and by the grace of the Lord, a few extra watts materialize out of my legs and are transferred through the pedals and chain to the rear wheel and down to the road with the hope to bring it under submission.  Yet, to my surprise, it was not my wife and few members of the church but the entire church was there with signs and shouts fit for a European classic.  "Thank You Lord for an awesome church filled with awesome people."    As most athletes will attest to, fans can give you energy and strength.  While the encounter with the church was only about 2 seconds it was enough to not only carry me through town but also up the final hill of the day with out even a sensation of fatigue hitting me. 

12 miles to go.  The wind builds as a constant foe endeavoring to keep me from the finish line, rest, yet knowing that is where rest is, the battle against the wind and the road rages on.  With little event in these last miles, except for the growing weight in my legs that strains to slow both cadence and speed and an ache from being in the aero bars for the past hour and a half.  A final push across the bridge that spans the Yellowstone river a better than 90 degree right hand turn and a dismount right at the timing mat (which is required that "all bikes are walked across the timing mat..." really?).  Somehow in the following seconds the timing chip is transferred from my ankle to Dave, I shout "Go!" and hang the bike up in the rack.  As I collapse onto the ground the tail of my aero helmet props my head like a dandelion atop its stem.  With a slight readjustment and removing the helmet I am out, having left nothing out on the course and a time of 1:43:52 for 48 miles.  "Thank You Jesus." 

A few minutes later, with most of my faculties regained and a warm cup of coffee offered it is time to cheer on the rest of the racers coming through the gate until my wife and kids arrive to drive down to the finish line for the boating leg. 

Once on the road in the comfort of a van with heated seats to ease the leg muscles a call from Dave comes in to see if we are coming down..."'Dave how did you do?' 'Did okay' 'Well were you the first out of the water?' 'Yeah I was'  'Well then praise Jesus, as nothing else matters on how it went, first out is first out, that means we won!!!'"  Thanks be to God for an awesome weekend of racing and a great team to race the Peaks to Prairie race with.

 

Rocky Mountain Roubiax

Why is it that when you live near the largest city in Montana you have to travel the farthest for most races?  Anyways, it was another early departure, leaving the house at just about 4:00 a.m. for the pull up west of Missoula, MT.  While the sleep desperately tries to cling to my eyes, fighting to keep their lids shut as a warm blanket covering in the dead of winter, the excitement of race day over comes and keeps us moving the 5 and half hour drive.  One of the biggest consolations of the day however is getting to watch the sun greet the day and the new, freshness of it all sings of the Glory of the Creator!!! 

Being a Roubiax race, having sections of dirt and gravel roads, along with paved, I am not really sure what to expect. The prerace anticipation of how the field will fall electrifies everything and seems to make both time and motion float past with minimal effort.  The time on the trainer, the road warm up; while I know they are doing their job do not induce even the slightest bit of exertion.  Finally the call for CAT 4's to approach the start line.  "Thank you Jesus, for a beautiful day, for the chance to ride, be with us today, that You may receive the Glory, and not us, may we compete as sportsmen and with character; protect us from injury and above all Lord, to you be the Glory both now and forever. Amen!"

With that the peleton of 12 riders, ranging from Fishtail, MT to Spokane, WA all simultaneously pick up their balancing foot and the familiar "click" of cleats engaging pedals is heard from front to back.  Initially the road is flat, following the highway and our pace is easy, almost too easy, yet it is not time to try and show off, there is going to be plenty of time for that to come in the next 46 miles.  After the first mile a pace line begins to develop and already it is apparent that there are going to be two different groups.  After 5 miles the course turns up hill and away from the interstate, into the quite mountains where the sound of tires rolling over pavement is all that fills the air; that and the BBQ that is cooking at one of the house we pass "Wow that smelled awesome, I'm hungry, whose hungry, let's say we all stop for just a moment and see if they would be interested in sharing..."  However, good that sounded, it was at this point that the road took a sudden leap and with that the race was on.  The cheerful banter of the peleton quickly subdued into steady work, the first hill, not hard but, wait, dirt. 

Knowing from studying the course literature prior to the race the first hill only gains about 250 feet and we were already about half way up it so doing some quick figuring it would be worth it to jump my power output for the rest of the hill to maintain the same speed and see where that takes the field. "Lord please let this work."  At the crest of the hill, while the legs are letting me know that they were engaged, it was more of a "let's get this" rather than crying out of oxygen.  With a banking left hand corner on a gradual decent we are on to the 10 mile loop which we are to circumvent 3 times before heading back to the finish line, 4 miles beyond where we started.  A quick look around we have dropped from 12 to about 7. "Thank you Lord, please keep me moving, and not bonk like last week."  Working together the 7 of us accelerate down the hill off the dirt road and on to pavement, or what at least passed for pavement at some point in history.  There are more asphalt patches than original road. As we descend to the first corner of the course, we transition from mountain pastures into giant pines that tower over the road, standing like soldiers at attention, shoulder to shoulder as we proceed down the middle of their ranks. 

As has been the usual thus far this year, wind has been a constant and today is no different, while we are shielded by both terrain and trees the constant nemesis finds every opportunity to remind us of its presence.  "Okay, lets see what the this pack of 7 is made of.."  My turn in the front, open up and take it from an easy tempo pace up to a "comfortable" lead out pace.  While my intention is to only maintain this for approximately 45 seconds or so, no one else in the group is aware of the plan or duration.  After a short exertion ceasing before the deficit of energy is experienced, we settle back in to a nice tempo pace, yet as I drift to the outside to relive my turn at the front, the peleton follows suit.  It seems that my 6'5" frame is desired to hide behind.  After some jockeying, finally the next rider takes his turn in the front but the precedent has been set when I'm in the front prepare to work.  This becomes the routine over the next two laps, take my turn in the front, proceed with a good lead out for a varied duration, settle back in and let everyone regroup albeit feeling their legs a bit more each time.

Accelerating the tail of back end of the first lap it is back to the dirt and an ever steepening climb.  Being still in the primary lap, there is no gesticulating, just a steady push, allowing the lungs to fill with the primary fuel of any race, oxygen, and respirate out all that tries to weigh down the legs.  Coming over the top a nice "S" turn and back to the start of the loop and as a chick emerging from the egg so an idea begins to form as to the final strategy.  "That wasn't that bad of a lap, 2 more, they seemed to go pretty quick.  Thank you Jesus."  Back into the down hill portion and a quick look around finds the ranks of the peleton have dropped from 7 to 5, 1 loss due to a flat the other was claimed by the hill.

Rounding the corner at the bottom and settling in back on the climb it is time to take stock of who all I am riding with.  Of the many ways to determine this, I choose to begin conversation, hoping to see who is straining and for them to know that the tank is still pretty full.  All in all most are in pretty good cheer, or at least they are putting on a good front.  Honestly this race is turning out to be a lot of fun, still there are a few guys whom I am not sure of how they will be at the end of the race but praise the Lord for the good competition, the beauty of His glorious creation in the mountains of western Montana, and for biking.  Really who would have thought that being precariously balanced atop two thin tracks of rubber taking full advantage of their gyroscopic motion so as not to fall, spinning my legs at a level of which is carefully calculated to leave nothing left on the course would be fun.  Something this crazy, the Lord must have had His hand in.  Thank you Jesus!!!

 

With little change in the field coming into the hill on the back end of the second lap it is time to turn the suffering on a little.  While I need not be the first up the hill, I do strive to be at or near the front so as to be sure the pace is both steady and uncomfortable when we crest the top, knowing that on the back side there is a nice reprieve which will allow for any required recovery.  As we exit the dirt on the third and final lap the break group has dropped 2 more leaving us to 3.  "Thank you Jesus, 1st, 2nd, 3rd right here, as always Lord it is completely up to you as where we all fall."  Miles 4 through 9 of the final lap sees little different than the first 2, however my 2 riding mates are striving to keep me in the front, both to wear me out and also to shield themselves from the persistent head wind that is buffeting us mercilessly.  Yet, as hard as the wind is, the pace is lifted to inflict an equal level of suffering for those in the slip steam behind. 

 

Okay, so knowing that the last time up the hill on the loop gives to a short down then a short up then an 9 mile run past the start line and up to the finish, it is time to be sure that I am at the front at the top of the hill.  Coming in the familiar scream for the life giving oxygen is once again ignored "shut up legs!!!" as both focus and excursion come into a synergistic harmony with preparation and strategy.  Coming over the top, knowing that I am the front wheel, that nagging voice keeps saying, look back, see the gap see how far back they are, yet the persistence is to no avail, to look back to rob precious watts, speed and focus and may lull me into a false sense of security (as the only thing that is secure in this universe is the Lord God and never can be me in myself!).  "Keep going, its a time trial from here on out, you know what to do, hang in the drops, keep the cadence up, and look ever ahead beyond the finish."  Finally at the top of the final climb on dirt for the day with about 9 miles to the finish line and 3 miles into the attack I afford a quick look back as the road helps to facilitate it with a sweeping curve "THANK YOU JESUS!!!"  About 200 yards back is the next guy and the third is out of site.  

 

The next 8 miles go by in a blur, passing the end of the CAT 5 racers pursuing the finish line only adds to the adrenaline which I am certain is fueling my legs more than oxygen at this point, yet still the effort is perceived as minimal.  As quickly as the start line comes it passes and a half mile later a hard left hand turn (I love left hand turns, I don't know why but they are better than right hand turns) and it is a straight run to the base of the final climb.  While not getting out early to see the finish could and usually is counted as a detriment, in this case ignorance was bliss.  This climb was worthy of the Tour of Flanders, not necessarily long but just when you began to be lulled into the a sense that the grade was going to have mercy on you, it would come as a ravenous wolf to attack its prey, the rider, as each struggled and fought for seconds to the finish line seems to bear the weight of eternity. 

 

Finally it is within sight, only 200 meters, a quick very half hearted sprint, more for myself than anything, and letting up to rise in the saddle and cross the threshold which separates work from leisure, suffering from the jubilance of knowing that it is over, my eruption of praise to the Creator of all things comes forth and echos through the country side.  "THANK YOU JESUS!!! THANK YOU JESUS, as always it is Your victory and not mine, may You receive the glory for it and not me.  Thank you for bringing me to this spot!!" 

 

Once the flow of oxygen is returned to the craving muscles it is time to cheer on the rest of the field as they battle up to the finish and then to return down to the van.  As many are doing the same, conversation strikes up and a fellow racer from another category finds that we share a similar bond, in that we both love the Lord and he used to race under the same club I know race.  "Lord not only did You carry me to the finish, but You brought a fellow brother to share the ride back to the parking lot with!!" 

 

 

Tomorrow... Peaks to Prairie Adventure race, where I will be racing the 48 mile time trial...