Following Good Friday

So, the first O-Cup of 2009 is history, and it felt tougher than last year. There was some premature "excitement" in the first lap, as El Capitain pulled the peloton after the first corner, I dutifully made my way up to rotate with him. I didn't mind setting the pace at just under 40 kph, taking smooth lines through the corners, comfortably between Zone 2 and 3, but after the third corner the first climb came, and Capo took off. I mean, I wasn't fully warmed up yet, and my legs were burning in my futile attempt to match his pace, so he got an early start to his [theoretically] winning strategy.

After that, I resorted to sitting in and conserving whatever form I had coming into that race. J and PhD staked great positions in the peloton, and it was easy for me to stick around for for the most part. However, there's plenty of nerves in the S3/Junior pack: competitors cutting you off, overlapping wheels, and weaving about. Sometimes, you give up your position purely for your own safety, or fear of disqualification by crossing the yellow line. As the race progressed, the climbs seemed to hurt more than they did last year, and by the final lap I was cramping just above the knee...  I can't remember the last time that happened.

So, with Capo feeling knackered on account of playing the pack with his flyers, J pulling out with legs seized by cramps, and my legs sending unprecedented distress calls, only PhD felt fresh enough to challenge the final sprint. As expected, things got hairy after the final corner, and we couldn't form a train to lead him out. With a kilometre to go, the yellow line rule was lifted, and the bunch used the whole width of the road, with me caught up behind and nowhere to go. I was content that PhD was well positioned ahead of me, but when the pack made their final surge toward the finish line, he cramped up too.

That's when I knew I had to make a move, pain be damned. The group strung out enough for me to swing from the right side and pass on the left. Now, I've taken bunch sprints before, but only from a position ahead of the pack. I've never seen how mine works from the rear. So, not only was I surprised that I passed about 20 guys with the finish line in sight, I was downright giddy when I realized that I was still closing in on the leaders. With a final few meters to go the pain was searing, and I struggled just to hold my position against the sprinters to my right. Good enough for seventh place. Better than last year. Can't complain.

All of us are looking forward to Calabogie, with some lessons under the belt.