The Housatonic Blues

Housatonic Road Race
June 18 2011
Masters 50+
45 starters
80 degrees Humid
27 mile hilly loop X2-54 miles

Housatonic is one of the iconic races on the NE calendar.
I have never raced it, but always wanted to. This year, since the form is good, the weight is down, it was time.
It is a really hilly 27 mile loop, done twice that really sorts out the riders, or so I have heard.
The bad news is the start time was 9:15 and Southbury CT is 3:30 drive from my house, which meant the alarm went off at 4 and my groggy ass was out the door at 430.
Bike racing is grand sometimes, like at 430 in the morning, when everyone else is asleep, you wish you were, and yet there you are loading bike crap in the car, most everyone you know, that is not a rider, thinking what a nut job you are as you toil silently in the dark.
All was going according to schedule until I neared Chester, VT. Bridge closed. Detour. OK then, lost about 20 minutes. Like any veteran rider and traveler, I build a bit extra time into my planning, so not a big worry at this point.
 Down down south I go, into Mass where at least the radio stations are a lot better and there are more than 3 to choose from. Sun is up and I am waking up, so that is a good thing. The funny thing is this is considered a BIG drive by NE racing standards and yet this is about the same time and distance that I used to drive at least twice a month, Casper to Denver to race, back in the day. That seemed like not a big deal, this seems like a LONG way.
Into CT, getting closer and the legs are feeling really saucy, or not, then, round a corner about 10 miles from the start and oops, left lane closed on I-84 and a long line of traffic stretched in front of me barely moving. Not good. Tick tock, tick tock. Now I am watching the time slip by, as we slowly exit the interstate, then wind for a few miles in a long line through some Southington CT backroads. The guy in front of me is apparently really late as he is on his phone, waving his arms about and generally looking like he is about to orbit inside his car. Could be worse I suppose.
 Lose almost 30 minutes and now sweating it a bit, finally free and back on the highway and heading in. Arrive at the S/F and wow look at the line for registration! Perfect. Finally out of there, stick on number in hand, about 30 minutes till my start and man, I need the portables in a bad way. Wow, look at the line for those! Maybe 40 riders deep, 6 potties.Perfect. Standing, waiting, sweating. Hopping on one foot with all kinds of interior pressures mounting.
 Finally and I mean finally, in and out, quick to the car, dressed, pump up the tires, mix the drinks, stick on the number! no pins! wow, this is living.
On the bike about 10 minutes till the start, feeling not really in any kind of groove to bike race, but what the hell, time to go.
Line up, visit with some old friends at the start line and we are off. Up the big climb neutral then turn us loose. I had already decided I was going to race this one really aggressive as the field was really stacked and I hoped the John Funks of this race would watch each other and let me get up the road. Ah, what a plan!
Two miles into the race, we crest the neutral hill, start down a descent and OOPS,the chain throws to the outside. No worries, I have raced a long time, it ain't my first rodeo and it ain't my first chain throw. Pedal gently, shift to the small ring and get it back on. No problem eh? Except it did not go back on, it jammed, I could not pedal forward or back. No amount of shifting or pedaling could free the linked beast.
Fuck. Only word to describe it. Have to stop and fix it. Pull over, get off and quickly try and get it back on. Jammed chains can be a real bitch sometimes and this one looked like one of those rope tricks that has all those knots in it and it looks like no way they will come out. My chain actually had a couple of loops in it. How the hell does that happen? I mean really. WTF. I yanked and pulled and miraculously it was on and straight. That was the good news. The bad news is I had lost maybe 2 minutes. It seemed like more maybe an hour or so, but in reality was maybe 2 minutes. On the bike, full and I mean full gas and chasing. I can do this. I need some help from the field, some PIANO and I can do this. I see them on the top of a rise ahead, some hope there, but christ it took me forever to get up said hill and that would be the last time I saw them. I chased and chased and chased. No PIANO on this day, apparently.
Eventually, my lower back began to ache, a sign of nearly an hour in full TT mode, crunched low on the bike, to no avail. I reached the S/F area, turned to start lap 2 and asked the marshall how far ahead was the field. He said I did not want to know. OK then, my allergies were kicking up and this day has CALL IT written all over.
Back to the car. Kind of weird to be at the car when everyone else is still riding. Sort of an eerie quiet. Oh well, get the hell out of dodge and wait for next time. No worries, it could always have been worse, this time it was just not my day.