Again a day ends. The race, it happened, there were wheels and primes and spandex-clad ladies. What more is there to say? Surely something.
Tonight's race was the Iscorp Downer Classic, a nice little sort-of rectangle plagued with wind and winter-weathered Wisconsin roadways. DANG LOOK AT THAT ALLITERATION.
Ahem.
So, yeah. We departed later than usual, fought traffic tooth and nail to reach the course, and I suited up. Today I would be wearing my spiderman skinsuit, because damnit, I DO WHAT I WANT. I knew instantly what a good decision I had made. I had people cheering for me the entire length of the course. "GOOOOOO SPIDER-GIIIIIIRL." This was the theme of the evening. Plus, I was sure at least one person was going to buy me beer.
I rode aggressively right away, perhaps overplaying my hand in terms of sheer watts--but, considering where I am in the omnium, what do I care? I'm more concerned with seeing myself up there doing things. I mean, it is important to hold position in the last lap, yes. Maybe this is just my way of making myself feel better--but the truth is, finally I don't feel sad after finishing a race. Because 1) I know I am strong enough to finish and 2) I am doing things! I am making the suffering!! Or, at least, I think I am.
From the whistle, it was the same game we'd all come to expect--not terribly fast, and so it became a whole different sort of game. Who was stupid enough? Who can take the greatest risk? That, I think, is what TOAD is. Because to win, you have to be willing to risk everything. What did Jade Wilcoxson do at Nature Valley? She put it all on the line; she gambled her body and she lost. That is the sport we play.
So. Anyway. I was unconcerned with placing, or points, or anything. I was thinking about position and primes because this is where I still stood to gain.
The announcer called out some sort of merchandise prime in the middle of the race; I thought I heard that it was for a powertap and I attacked on the left. I looked down and I saw a wheel, but I had gapped it a bit and I pushed harder. But then! I realized it was Cari Higgins on my wheel, and she came around me with a huge burst that I could not match. We were far from the field at this point and she continued. I gripped my handlebars and followed. She seemed content to hover just up the road. Suddenly, an Iscorp rider and a Colombian rider jumped up to us; I caught back on and we were four.
At this point, Cari seemed unmotivated to work anymore (it had been a couple laps). I did one more big pull (though, I probably should have just attacked them all--but I was weary) and nobody would come around me. I resolved to be caught.
Much sketchiness ensued. A girl cut swaths across the road with her bike, seemingly looking for the forward-moving swarm; another chopped me in the turn and scrubbed my front wheel. I like to think of creative things to yell in these instances but, unfailingly, the only thing I can muster in my panic is a crass "HEY WHAT THE FUUUUUUU MAN!!" There are so many better insults! "WHAT IS THIS!? TIDDLYWINKS???" or "I DON'T REMEMBER SIGNING UP FOR FULL CONTACT RUGBY," or even "YOU HAVE A BIG OLD FAT BUTT."
I think it is still important, even given the spirit of the race, to be nice. I mean, there is a difference between racing and just being a big old bag of dicks. This is a thing that should make us feel happy--look at everything we invest into it. If it is only an outlet for all of our rage, then--well, I could do better robbing banks or pyromaniac-ing, I think.
I did feel quite good in this race; the two days off while I was nursing my sick wounded self seem to be paying me dividends. But--for all my strength I am not there in the finish. I am so far back! It is one thing to say, "you have to fight," but it is entirely something else to actually do it. I don't know. If I win, I want to win because I am the strongest; not because I chopped some person and closed their line to steal a few positions. That is not how Marianne Vos wins. That is not how the people I respect win! It is something to think about, truly.
Our race finished and we cheered for Diego; while this went on I met a very nice lady and her niece from Idaho and they bought me beer. They were quite friendly, and I don't know if they will read this but I thank them for their niceness and conversation!
Diego was caught in a crash with only two or three laps to go; his race ended in a stroke of bad luck. But that is the nature of the game. We loaded the minivan and went on back to Wauwatosa.
Tomorrow is the final day! I can hardly believe it. I feel a different sort of person when I am here. It is a very simple existence and I am so happy to do it. I will be sad when I have to think again on the bigger mysteries of my life, about the purpose of the lizard and so on and so forth. But--I will think on that when it is here. Tomorrow I race again like a lizardy demon, aggressive to the point of foolishness. For that is my style, I think.
Anyway. Until then!
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