White Plains, Rockleigh and The Harlem Skinscraper Classic

My #future_wifey said yes this past week so things have been a little hectic, but here’s the long and short of the past 2 weeks.

Rockleigh – 4 Venezuelans showed up. Leftovers from Somerville, it seemed. Also Gavi. Gavi attacked, Zach went with him and I followed suit. Nothing, but it was cool to be in a move with Zach and Gavi. Sat in the rest of the time and waited for the sprint. Threw it at the line with Zach and Gavi. Venezuelans took 1-4, Zach took 7, Gavi 8, I was 9.

White Plains – Road Results predicted I would take 4th here. Coming off 5 top-10’s, I guess that made sense. I was, however, at the end of my peak and was uncertain whether or not I would perform. I got the negative thoughts out of my head quick and decided to race. Chanee invited her brother and his family, which was a huge mental booster. I was able to physically feel the effects of the end of the peak on my body. I was close to pulling out more than once, but knowing I had friends and family rooting for me kept me in. No moves got away, so I sat to sprint. In the final corner, Jesus Martinez of Triangle Cyclists (who would later go on to win the 4 race at Harlem) sat up heading into the final corner and slid inside. The inside line I had just moved to. I slammed on my brakes and  swerved wide on the outside, sprinting to get back up to the “lead 5″….but that was my sprint. I came in in 6th place, just behind Craig from kissena.

Harlem – I decided to race twice, because of the discount and because I started to ride my bike again outside of racing. I had no base milage and just top end fitness in the past 6 weeks, so it was time to ride again. The first race was fine. 27.5 mph avg made it safer than previous years with only a few crashes. I stayed towards the front watching, waiting. The corners were fine, the ground was potholey – it was Harlem. With 5 to go position jockeying got a little rough, but I managed to stay up there. Out of the final corner everyone opened up their sprint. I surfed wheels until I chose the wrong one. 75 feet from the line, Herman Requena, of Montecci, who I was following, decided to stop riding and coast in. A guy to my left, a curb to my right, I had no option until they sort of drifted over and let me inside. I sprinted again, but it didn’t matter. 8th place. I went over to have words with Kissena after the race. I couldn’t tell if he didn’t understand my English or he couldn’t hear me because he had his headphones in. Is that even legal?

The second race was the 2/3. Much more dangerous than the 3/4, but I chalk that up to people wanting to win more, or something? The average speed was slower here, making it plenty easy to drift around towards the front 20 or so. Which is right where I wanted to be. With 8 (or 9) to go, I was moving up on the inside, by the barricades, when I got pinched. Walsh looked left, saw me, probably assumed I would brake, then slid left, knocking me into the barricades. Unconscious, I lay on the floor for a few seconds as the field rushed past me. Wilson Tarbox went down with me. The ambulance whisked me away to find out my wrist was simply sprained, my kidney was simply bruised and my concussions (2 hits to the helmet) were minor. My bike, however, was toast. 3 cracks to the frame, a cracked front wheel and no more air attack. Good bye, June.

Let’s see if my #professionallyamateur butt can figure out how to get myself on a bike by August.