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...
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