2005 Mt. Diablo Challenge - Chapter 2

Running Late
- by Don L.

The day didn't start off exactly as planned. In other words, a typical day for me. I woke up late and took a quick look at the clock. A green 6:20 stared back at me through the dark. I didn't have time to cook my Trader Joe's oats on the stove because being unemployed I no longer eat the quick-cooking variety. Hmm.. so I decided to give the microwave option a try. Following the instructions on the package I punched in 2:00 and start and walked out of the kitchen to put on my favorite pair of Castelli's and a jersey. *beep* ahh, smells like oatmeal... To my dismay, I opened the door to find the contents of the bowl exploded out of the plastic wrap and coated the interior of the oven in a smoking crust. OK, scratch that. No time to clean it either. Luckily I live one block from a McDonald's and it just so happened that my sister had sent me out that week on a scavenger hunt for Happy Meal toys for her collection, so I elected to fuel up on a Hotcake breakfast. I used the entire syrup packet. More carbs. Satisfied, I glanced at the old geezers gabbing in the corner, got into my car and headed for the San Mateo bridge with my new Buzz Lightyear Happy Meal trinket sitting shotgun.

In a statement on how unavoidable fast food eateries are in our world, I'd already pre-arranged to park at a McDonald's in Danville, ride in to meet Willis and Jeff, the other Wheely Cool people on the road, warm up my legs and then line up. I was still late though in spite of abandoning the mess in my kitchen and I missed the others. I also badly miscalculated how long the line for the port-a-potties at the starting line would be. Next time I'm using the McToilet. I stopped by the registration desk and took some safety pins for my bib. No sign of Willis or Jeff so I decided to strip and pin the number up myself. A race volunteer told me to put my shirt back on. O-kay whatever, lady. By the time I rode to the start, the queue for the race was stretched out past the little field where the registration desk was, and I took my position in the back of the pack.

People in the back were chatting and I looked around at the other riders. The guy next to me was on a brand new toothpaste green Burley racer, and a bunch of people wearing Peet's coffee jerseys were in front of me. I'd explained to dinner company the night before my rationale for riding hill climb races. It certainly isn't because I'm faster going uphill since I consider myself more of a flatlander, but it has more to do with my fear of crashing out in a criterium or road race at high speeds. In my experience, a steep hill keeps things calmer and the likelihood of being taken out in a wreck are minimal. Unless you're standing next to a guy with a brand new toothpaste green bike who doesn't know how to clip into his pedals, that is. Once we were rolling to the start I could tell he had no clue what he was doing - he put basically every part of his shoe over his pedal except the cleat and my whole world seemed to narrow down to watching this strange dance. After what seemed like forever, I ended up having to stop and stick out my arm to hold the guy up as he fell over. After we sorted ourselves out he rode away while I quietly cursed him and clipped myself back in. I rode past him and told him he owed me twenty bucks for keeping him off the pavement.

Luckily for me, after the crazy chaotic start I quickly settled into my spin and I was able to focus on maintaining a steady pace ignoring the faster riders passing me at the beginning. I noticed some people riding enormous unicycles up the hill. We can debate whether they have some sort of internal gearing mechanism a la Shimano Nexus in their hub or not - I think they must because those guys were able to ride faster than I thought a unicycle could go. I asked them if there were any jobs available at the circus and they didn't know what I was talking about so I rode on. Being a middle of the pack rider, many people sped by me like I was standing still while I overtook others laboring on the grade. As the course flattened some near the Rock City area I stood up to gain speed and dropped some riders I had been shadowing for a few minutes. I remembered to eat and drink and kept a close watch on my heart rate. After the halfway point I rode down a little kid, maybe 12 years old. "I'm going to catch a draft off of you - with you doing all the work like this this will be my fastest time ever." The kid stared back blankly and didn't know what I was talking about so I rode on again and decided I had to stop chatting with the other riders. Nearing the top I dared to flip the display on my heart rate monitor to show me the time. A couple of months ago I had switched my race day goal from "not finish dead last" to a more reasonable finish in 1:30 or under. But in keeping with the theme of the day I was running late again, and had less time than I thought to reach the summit, so I pushed on and passed some people who jokingly accused me of sandbagging it, and psyched some other riders out by jettisoning my remaining water. "Jet planes dump their fuel before they crash land to prevent an inferno" I explained. The last 1000 ft of the climb are always the worst but I was able to withdraw some of the reserves I'd saved up lower on the course and I heard the announcement at the finish for the 1:30 mark so I think I made it. As I crossed the line I heard Willis say "hey that's Don!" and we were joined in short order by Jeff and Alicia at the top for free Jamba Juices. In all, a great day to race. Yes, I was also late for all the other obligations I had lined up later that day, but none of those were races so who's counting?