Going fast & having fun

Written by: Chris Hahn

After the road race, I wasn’t sure how I felt about the crit. I thought I might be too tired, physically, to do well. I was definitely tired mentally. I had held the road race as a goal for much of the year. And even though I’d kept that goal mostly quiet, holding that goal – even in the back of my mind – required a commitment of mental energy for all those months. And to go the start line with the commitment to suffer as much as it took to win, and maintaining the belief that I actually could win, took more mental energy. So part of me wanted relief from the pressure and to just take it easy. But Elizabeth pushed
me, saying I had come to race, there was no reason to back down, and I should give it everything to try to win again.

Warming up easily, I did not feel great. Then it was time to warm up seriously, with my
pre-race interval routine. I cranked out the first one and was surprised. My power numbers were as good as I’d seen all year. That boosted my confidence a bit. I decided to let well enough alone, abandoned any more intervals, and just rolled around, trying to prepare for the suffering and drama ahead.
One thing I was clear about. If I was going to try to go for the repeat, I was going to have to race aggressively. It just wouldn’t be right to try to sit in and wait for the sprint. If I were to win again, I would have to have shown that I earned it. Besides, Craig Miller was there, and I knew from experience against him the if it came down to a field sprint, the odds were 80% that he would beat me.
It turned out lots of other guys wanted to race that way too, and the race was aggressive and exciting. A guy attacked from the gun and stayed out there for a couple laps. Then someone else. I started keying off the attacks. When the field brought back a break and slowed down, I would attack on the long tail-wind section before turn three. I did this a few times, and was off the front solo for a lot of the first third of the race. Of course there was no way I was going to stay away solo. But maybe I could initiate a break this way. In any case, I had a statement to make.

One time, Norm and Jerome separated from he field and came up to me. But we had trouble getting organized and were soon caught. In reality, since the course was just one big, fast rectangle, it was pretty unlikely that a break would stick. With about 25 minutes to go, I knocked off the solo attacks. I started monitoring the front, looking to
get into a move that looked promising. But though the aggressive racing continued, nothing got more than 10 seconds up the road. I started thinking about a plan b: finding Craig Miller, getting on his wheel and hopefully finding some way to come around him in a field sprint. It was around this point, when I had drifted back into the middle of the field, that the day’s only real break got away with 15 minutes, 8 or 9 laps, to go. Four guys rolled off and got a gap of up to around 20 seconds. The field kept them in sight, but no one wanted to really commit, and lap after lap the break hovered out there. At three laps to go they had 15 seconds. Even Craig Miller was worried and came to
the front, looking for a way to get across.
Soon after, Norm attacked in the gutter, Norm style. One guy was able to stay with him and the rest of us were instantly gapped. I hesitated a little, hoping for a wheel to follow, but then it was time to go, or lose the race. On the backside with two and a half to go, I saw Craig Miller on the right side of the field, so I attacked hard up the left. Jerome was on my wheel, which was not ideal. He is a very good sprinter.

We both wanted to get up the road to Norm, but we both were marking each other at the same time. At two to go I sat up a bit, so did he, and we got caught by a few guys. But the race was up the road, and I put my head down and went again. As we got the bell on the final lap I could see that Norm and the guy with him had already ridden right through the break. I got to the tail end of the break in the first turn, got the tiniest bit of a draft for a couple breaths, and started coming around them in the second turn. For some reason, the guy at the tail of the break kept swinging to his left after completing the
turn, even as I was trying to come up his inside. I yelled, “left, left!” till I was able to squeeze through.
The “clank, clank” as I bounced over the feet of the barricades might have given me some adrenaline and made it hard for the guys to follow. But I couldn’t worry about them anyway. A lot of times, to win you have to be willing to lose. Maybe they were going to sit on me the whole way and come around at the end. But if I didn’t give everything to get up the road to Norm I was definitely going to lose. I caught Norm after the last turn, in the final straight. It was clear to the finish line in front of me. I was giving it my all, seated, in my tightest aero position, like I had been for a while. I was almost blind with
pain and just wanted to be able to hold my pace and hope the finish line came soon enough. But something told me I had not won yet and I’d better stand and sprint. So I stand and do my best. Sure enough, Jerome is coming up my right side. I dig and dig and he is gaining, gaining, almost even with me. I dig, dig, and then … he starts to fade. One more dig, and I pull clear to the finish line. I did not dare celebrate till I got to the line, and by then I was too tired to even raise one arm. I saw afterward from the photo that Jerome, Norm and five other guys were all bunched right behind me.