CRYSTAL CITY, VIRGINIA
This was my third consecutive year of riding the Air Force Crystal Classic. Two years ago, I rode on my own, and my timing chip on my shoe didn’t work. It had recorded just two of my eight laps.
Last year, I rode with friends from The Bike Lane, and at the start of the second lap, my Garmin mount broke, my Garmin went flying, and I had to retrieve the Garmin and lost contact with my group. Also, no one waited for me.
Today, well, today was going to be different. Meeting up with some riders from The Bike Lane, we were planning to average 20 mph over the course. But we were at the back of nearly 1,000 riders at the start. On Lap One, we had to pick and weave past slower riders until we came to the turnaround near the Iwo Jima Memorial. There, a girl had crashed, the police were attending to her, and one line, not lane, got by. It seemed we spent about four minutes with a foot on the ground.
Adam Lewandowski, James Mortson, Dennis McDonald, Rich McAfee, and I formed a “team” that was going well. After a slow first lap due to a bottleneck where the girl crashed, we hit the second 10-mile loop at 22 mph. I looked down and saw we had recovered and were averaging 20 mph for the ride.
There were times the heat was starting to get to me. Almost from the start, I wondered how long I could hang with the big boys – all racers for The Bike Lane. But I hung.
We finished the fourth lap, and Rich needed a natural break. James and I continued on, although we soft pedaled. We decided to pull over for water at the Air Force Memorial. As I was climbing the hill, I flatted. That made my decision easy.
But then I blew the repair. I used my one tube and one CO2 cartridge, and it popped. I popped.
At this point, having ridden 45 miles (4.5 laps) and thus having qualified for a silver medal, I was pleased we had averaged 20 mph. I had had enough. I looked for a SAG vehicle to take me back to my van. But I found none.
I started to walk. As I walked, I thought about where I was going. Back to the van. And back in the van was — a spare wheel. I did a quick time calculation. As luck would have it, I had parked near where I just flatted. If I ran to the van and made a quick wheel change, I could get back on course and finish the six laps in the required three hours and earn a gold medal. I took off my cleated shoes and ran barefoot to the van.
Back on course, I rode the last 1.5 laps at 18.7 mph, solo. On the last lap, I probably passed 100 cyclists and got passed by no one. Well, not technically true. My hamstring cramped with two miles to go, and while I was soft pedaling, someone passed me. Once I learned how to not make it worse, I pedaled by him.
I came in, picked up my medal, and had time to reflect.
I wore my FUCANCER kit today. Perhaps if I had worn any other kit, I would have accepted my fate that a flat ended my day. But when you represent FUCANCER, you do not quit.
BEFORE THE FLAT
MILES: 43.5 (70 km)
AVG. SPEED: 19.9 mph (32 kph)
The first 45 miles until the flat.
If you were riding with a lobbyist or a politician you would have had a supply of subtle hot air which would have carried you to the finish line!