This Saturday was allowed me a second consecutive weekend of racing as a "barely legal" masters 45+ racer. As explanation, my racing license lists me as being 45 years old, and therefore legal to participate in 45+ races, but my real age is 44 (with my birthday in November), so that gives me 11 months of "barely legal" masters racing. I plan on taking advantage of this calendar blip for as long as possible, because soon I will no longer be able to pull off my status as barely legal. This status will be added to other things I cannot pull off either like: skateboarding, dub step and super skinny jeans (actually no one can pull these off, anyone wearing them looks like like an elven jeggings-clad fool, trust me, in five years you’ll look back and cringe to see that you fell for super skinny jeans, they are to this generation what acid wash was to my people, I warn you because I care, don’t become like an acid [wash] casualty).

I managed to wrangle a ride from neighbor Larry, and after getting lost (again) pulling off exit 148 on the Garden State Parkway, we finally got turned in the right direction and set about preparing for our races. I was in line for the porto-john (note to those using the porto-john, that’s a pretty big hole in there, how is it possible you can miss?), I happened upon Robert L, local fast rider and friendly fellow. He approached me with a plan (I get approached at porto-johns a lot, I’m just that sort of person), he theorized that since there were nearly a score of Wonder Wheel riders there and that Doug O seemed eager to won as many of these Branch Brook races as possible, we should combine our resources and attack to get ahead of Doug and see where that sort of collaboration took us. I agreed, as my attacks and efforts went for naught last week against the Wonder Wheel armada.

We lined up and started racing. There were a few attacks and jumps, and Robert and I even got into a group of five with Doug that seemed to have promise, but we were brought back because we were riding slower than whoever was behind us. More jumps of varying seriousness followed, and just past half way through the race, Doug was near the front in a small group, with Robert in the mix also. Doug pulled off and Robert attacked. This was a very smart move, and, not being a complete idiot, I went with Robert. Looking back on my Strava data, he attacked at 30.4 mph, which is a good way to attack. I clung on for dear life and when the opportunity presented itself, I came around. Robert and I settled in. Well, Robert settled in, I just tried to help when I could and not poop myself in a public park (remember, bike racing is fun). I would say the ratio of work between us was 1 to 4, with Robert doing the majority of the work, and with me taking long looks at the logo on his keyster. (Jamison Capitol Partners, for all you capitol partner-ing needs!).

We came to the line and saw we had two laps to go. I’m a planner and an information guy. I like to know what’s going on, so I would occasionally look back, to see what sort of gap we had. Robert, not being inclined in the same manner, remarked that it wasn’t such a good idea to look back. I stopped (for the most part), but still peeked back occasionally, when he wasn’t looking. We came past the line and got the bell signaling that we were on our last lap. There was no question in my mind that Robert was going to win, he was pulling like a locomotive, and if I sat on his wheel and sprinted past him at the finish (also, not likely), he justifiably could have stabbed me shortly after the race. If we came to the line together, I wouldn’t have contested the win. As luck would have it, I didn’t have to worry about the finish. After we came through the last corner, Robert maintained his pace, and I didn’t so much.

Robert was gone, on his ay to a well earned victory. I was planted in no man’s land. Behind me there was a chase group of five, led by Doug and containing another pal Chris. I looked back again (sorry Robert), and decided to try to cling onto their group and finish as well as I could. I slipped in behind the five, and tried to jump start my bodily functions. We came to the line, Doug jumped, I couldn’t react, I followed wheels and ended up fourth, just barely beating Chris (yes, that is what friendship with me is like…).

Here is video of the finish.

I also raced the 35+ race, it was windy, everyone stayed together, field sprint, zzzzz….