If my other racing seasons have proceeded like a metronome, then this season’s click track has been more like a toddler trying to play along with a Motorhead album. (Motorhead tracks are trending as the new "brain music" for young minds, supplanting Mozart, because, well, Lemmy.) I find inspiration and fitness in bursts and brief intervals. This is probably due to me kicking ass this year in my competition to catch every virus being passed around by all the popular grade schoolers. Last week I was able to increase my infection tally by getting a head cold/throat thing that was the toast of the third grade. I employed my usual treatment methods of denying the existence of any malady and regular alcohol doses. This brought my cold to end after a few days, and being in semi-sound health, I decided that I should push my luck and race bikes again.

Since there were absolutely no other options that fit my schedule, I decided upon racing in the Spring Series, my traditional race of last resort. My life coach Mihael was also interested in racing on Sunday, so we agreed to race the masters race. Traditionally masters fields are considered a safer alternative to other races, as they are allegedly filled with more experienced racers (although sometimes this isn’t the case, because all you need to race masters is a distant birthday), and the field assembled on Sunday seemed to be an able and competent crowd.

Masters racing can be a world unto itself. Many of these fellows have been racing with and against each other for years, sometimes decades, and if you aren’t aware of the latest developments in the masters universe of these he-men, the racing can seem mysterious and confusing. As we lined up, I tried to get the lay of the land. The Wonder Wheel and Axis teams seemed to have approximately 45 races in attendance between the two of them, (this is no doubt due to their savvy strategy of recruiting all the ambulatory passengers from the busses bound for the buffets in Atlantic City) so I surmised that they would be controlling the day’s happening to a great extent. Axis had the series leader in their ranks, and from the beginning, it was evident that they were playing for a field sprint. I could tell this was the case because they chased Matt S of Rapha as if he still owed his share of the 10% tip they agreed to leave at Denny’s the preceding weekend. It must’ve been a frustrating day for Matt. I also tried to get away, but my attacks were brief and toothless, like so many nursing home kisses.

And this is how we proceeded, Matt would jump. Wonder Wheel and Axis would chase, and we’d all get back together again. We passed the time this way for eleven laps, and then the bell chimed for the last lap. Axis moved to the front of the race, and had two guys pulling on the back straight, with their sprinter sitting third. Not being stupid, I sat behind their sprinter. We maintained this order on the downhill and through the turn. That’s when things got messy. Normally, if I am to be successful, I need about a mile leadout. The Axis leadout was in the half mile range—a little short of my optimal distance. The front of the pack clumped together, and my race towards the line devolved from a chess game to a crapshoot. I lost the wheel of the guy who would eventually win the race, and wove my tapestry of futility to a finish somewhere in the top ten. A middling result that was only made better by the fact I I beat Mihael.

I had my Strava transponder/tip calculator turned on during the race, so I am able to share with you the dynamic and compelling data that follows.