I decided early this year that this would be the season of the groin punch, from an athletic standpoint. I would race the 1/2/3 race at FBF, and would stay away from 3/4 races. This would mean I’d be "racing up"—doing events that would be near or most likely above my capabilities. In the spring this sort of notion is a fine and noble one, but as the season wears on and one experiences one groin punch after another, it gets a bit old. My early season successes as a barely legal 45+ racer (masters races don’t count in the world of groin punching, check the rulebook) seemed like distant memory recently, as the season has worn on and other racers who didn’t train in the ridiculous cold were busy racing their way into shape while I went on a sausage binge in the Hawkeye State.

Recently there hasn’t been much to be happy about in my pretend bike racer world, but things seem to have taken a turn for the mighty, as I have been feeling better as of late. Saturday morning’s CRCA Points Race was my first taste of not being groin punched. We linded up for the most filthy of race formats, a power points race with sprint on both Harlem Hill and Cat’s Paw on every goddam lap. The field was a bit under-stacked due to a race in Prospect Park also occurring at the same time, but there were some speedy racers there nonetheless. Zach K, Chris L, Kevin M and others had shown up to do the 55 odd sprints we’d be contesting that morning, and I made a mental note to watch out for those fellows.

The race started, and we were soon sprinting away, soon it seems that there were two sprint games going on, one pack of guys were contesting Cat’s Paw, with the other contesting Harlem Hill, with one set of poor doomed souls trying to contest both. I was in the Cat’s Paw crowd, and I soon started my dalliance with 5th place. I attempted to sprint at Cat’s Paw but after about 3 or 4 assaults on 5th place (points are recorded down 3 places), I came to my senses and abandoned that strategy because I am not a complete idiot. I tried after that to counter the sprints, but was only able to get about 100 meters worth of separation for very brief durations, but those attacks did keep the speed up and the pressure on, you know, so we could race bikes.

After God knows how many sprints, we came to Cat’s Paw, where Zach K took the sprint and then just kept going. He got away solo, treating the race like a dog treats a fire hydrant. My teammate Pascal made a bridge move after the penultimate climb of Harlem Hill and joined Zach at the front. I then decided to not do anything. because Pascal. We rolled along for a while and some guys popped off the front while I stayed near the front of the field watching Chris L, the only guy left who would be dangerous. He decided to try and make it up front, and attacked near Engineer’s Gate. I went with him and got a fine look at his backside along the East Side. Once we got to Harlem Hill, Pascal and Zach were in sight, so I pulled through, and we joined a pack of about 10-12 guys on the rollers after Harlem Hill.

It felt great to be able to make the break, but there were moments where being in the break felt like the aforementioned groin punching. We rolled through to keep our gap, and as we got to the line Robert L jumped, Zach followed and I tried to keep things together for Pascal, as he scored points while away with Zach. I rolled in after the sprint in 9th place, which counted for absolutely nothing in the points, but I counted the experience as a moral victory in a non-groin punching sort of way.

FBF 1/2/3 Race August 6, 2013

Buoyed by my recent non-terribleness, I was hoping to extend my streak of mightiness to the FBF 1/2/3 race on Tuesday night, but my allergies were acting up enough to make me want to carve my sinuses out with a butter knife, so I wasn’t especially optimistic. I arrived at the race feeling sluggish and prepped my groin for some speed bag work, so to speak. There was a classic FBF head/cross wind between turns 3 and 4, so things looked to be painful and there would probably be a split in the race as well. We pushed off, and immediately set about attacking, counter-attacking and trying very hard to kill one another. Teammate Jim got into the early break, which was great, as it allowed me the opportunity to follow moves, but mostly it allowed me to use my natural wiliness to avoid the wind.

There haven’t been many nights at FBF this year with the "Classic Wind", so I think that’s why many people seem to have forgotten how to ride the wind in a way that’s not ridiculous. Not that it bothered me, mind you, their cluelessness was to my benefit, as I could always find a spot out of the wind. The break stayed together until the last green jersey sprint, and then disintegrated, leaving three riders off the front. They would stay away with Adam A taking the win just ahead of the charging pack.

But back in the pack behind, things were forming up for the field sprint. Mengoni was closing down moves, so there didn’t seem to be much point in trying to get away from them. So I put myself near the from and resolved to stay there, as the tailwind at the finish meant that there wouldn’t be a lot of overtaking at the end. We rolled to the finish and I sat in the top ten, and when we hit the final corner, I tried to stay with the faster wheel in front of me, but I am me after all and I came in a few seconds behind the field sprint. I tried to do the "post race who finished in front of me?" count, but I was a bit groin-punched to get the count right. I figured I was probably 11th, as that’s the way my season has progressed.

So you can imagine my surprise this morning when I opened the results sheet and found that I had scored seventh place. Actual. FBF. Points. Astonishing. I realize that for many racers getting points at FBF is a lot like well, Tuesday, but for a fellow who’s been on the groin-punch roller coaster all season, it’s a big event. It also means that I’ve moved up to Hand of the King to Stephan S in the Game of Thrones that is the New Jersey cat 3 road race rankings. Watch your back, Stephan.

Side note from the night

Stinky dude—seriously. Do you need quarters for the laundromat? Is it a money thing? I’ll help you out. But it’s got to stop.

I also took my newfound fitness and totally rocked the SRBP. I am awesome.