What is a stage race? As many events as you can do packed into a small period of time? That is the version that I am the most familiar with. We, as working individuals – read amateurs – do not have the time to make something stretch for days, or weeks. We will leave that to the PRO’s.
One year when I did the Fitchburg Stage Race (Cyfac Racing) we reached the final stage, the Crit, with our man Sears in the points jersey. He was a sprinter, a scrapper, and we were about to find out just how much. I remember going into the last corner and seeing him taking it a little hot. This was about half way through the race mind you. I did not have to look all the way at him to know that he was going down. The audible sound of plastic scraping on concrete was enough to fill in the details. You know the feeling, when your sphincter muscles all contract so fast that you are afraid your ass swallowed your saddle? (I borrowed that one from Steven Hunter). Even so, you squint your eyes to bring back in focus what is really happening in front of you, not behind you. I remember this moment of being incredibly bummed and incredibly relieved at the same time.
We were supposed to be Mr. Sears’ leadout train sure. That much was a given, but the other duty that us and the rest of the team were supposed to do was make sure that he won every intermediate sprint as well. And that meant that we were to switch off getting that compact little man to the front of the race so he could do his job. Which was sprint his face off. So when he goes down four or so laps before the next intermediate sprint I am left without a job to do, and “that is just fine for me” I think as I wriggle myself comfortably back into the pack. And that is when I hear it.
“Hey J, lets do this.” My mind says excuse me and my mouth says nothing as I risk a glimpse to who is next to me, because, fuck me if it does not sound just like Jason Sears. I have absolutely no idea how this has happened, but, he is right, we need to do this and we need to do it now. And somehow, despite my bewildered state I drag Jason from about half way through a pack of three’s straight to front, narrowly missing the same turn that moments earlier I saw him go down. Or at least I think I saw him go down. He wins that sprint, and the next. Which is a little unfathomable to me, but now that I am seeing a little more clearly I think to myself that he just might pull this off….
That is what I think about when I think about Stage Racing. That, or the time that Pete Rubi and I went up to somewhere in the middle of no where New York to do a two-day three-stage race. My girlfriend drove as we kept our legs elevated, or slept off hangovers on the fold down cots mounted to the back of the rickety van we were driving. Summertime after all. These are good memories of Stage Racing. Here are other things that are interesting:
1) Learning to use a TT bike about ten minutes before the start of the Workingman Stage Race (it was Matt Decanio’s Red/White/Blue painted Hot Tubes). I almost crashed about four times.
2) Losing weight it was so hot in upstate NY. Gaining it back with cider donuts.
3) Run in with a self professed “Cop of these Parts.”
4) Finding a coinciding state crossing bike tour – they all have breakfast prepared for them in the mornings. Who knew? And when we rode off in the other direction. They were none the wiser.
5) The more tired you get, the better the next stage will be. It really is always the first one that is the worst. We are talking about nerves here.
6) No sex during. Just kidding I break that rule as often as possible (with myself.) And I have not done a stage race in years, which could run parallel with the sex situ.
So, what is a Gentlemen’s Stage Race? Simply put, just an agreement among friends to see who can outlast the others. The Rapha Gentlemen’s Race is happening this weekend and as I reviewed the course, and looked over the days that fell before and after the Gent’s Race, as we have come to call it, I noticed something interesting. On the Friday before the race there is what, in some circles might be known as a “Criterium,” although for the sake of brevity we will just call it a “Crit.” And then, to make matters worse, or better, or at least tempt fate a little bit there was another event on the far side of the Gent’s Race and this one is indeed the event known as Contra la Montra, the race against the clock, a “Time Trial” or “TT” if you will. Except this one is a little special as it is a six mile UPHILL time trial.
When I took a step back and looked at the weekend it looked a bit like this.
Crit (Downtown Park Blocks Crit)
Road Race (Rapha Gentlemen’s Race)
Time Trial. (Up Mt. Hood).
Seems easy enough? But I am sure that it will not be. I have been talking this up to almost everyone that will listen. And I like to talk, so you can imagine how that goes. Some people have said that they were crazy enough to try it with me (Patrick Wilder?) but I have not heard from him since his initial “Oh, let’s race for Pink Slips” rant. I thought he actually meant a women’s undergarment made of a really light red colored material. Not in the old fashioned drag racing way, but, apparently he meant nothing at all, because I have yet to hear back from him.
And now that you mention it a Stage Race should have more than just three stages, that sounds more like a Stage Rest than a Race. So, I figured that a little beefing up would be in order. This should also serve as your funtimes-party-bike-racing-action-schedule for the weekend. It might look something like this. And it definitely would not have anything to do with “gentlemen” if it did not also involve some “Some Drinking.”
Friday
12:30 Rapha Office Ride
18:30 Downtown Park Blocks Crit
AFTER – Some Drinking
Saturday
08:30 Rapha Gentlemen’s Race
15:00 Hotdog Serving with Cobra Dogs in Chris King Parking Lot
20:00 Rebecca Gates & The Consortium
20:30 – Some Drinking
Sunday
08:00 OBRA Hillclimb Championship (this one will hurt I think).
09:00 SOME SLEEPING
11:00 Some drinking.
I think the key will be to just not let yourself get Psy-Opsed out there. But then is that not the key to everything? To life? To love? To Bike racing happiness? PS – can you tell that I am a little geeked out about my bike? Just wait till you see the new bars on there. Whoo boy.
