500 meters – that was the difference between agony and ecstasy; everything and nothing; anger and happiness.
***
The U23 National road race was held in Clear Spring, Maryland, at 11:30AM on a Friday. Our race consisted of five, 20-mile laps, on rolling, twisty, and open roads – for the most part. There were a few short, steep climbs, but nothing that would shatter the field. Five laps would take us over four hours – I was wrong.
My teammates that day were Thorsten, Camden, and Cooper, all strong, smart, and more motivated than ever to get a National-level result. Our plan was to cover the breakaways; anything with Aevolo, CCB, and 303 Project – we need to be in there too. The first lap of the race was chaos – 15 guys decided to take the ‘hot route’ through someone’s lawn, and there were more crashes in the feedzone than in the entire rest of the race.
At the end of Lap 1, there was just one guy off the front, a solo breakaway – it was my teammate, Cooper. He quickly gained 4 and a half minutes on the field, so he was riding strong, to say the least. I switched off with Thorsten and Camden following the dangerous moves, and by the end of Lap 2 I knew that I was feeling good. As we approached the final climb – a steep, 90-second hill at 5k to go – I was positioned at the front, more focused on staying safe than attacking off the front. But then, just as we hit the steep section, one of the CCB riders attacked. I was only a few riders back, so I had to follow. When I did, it felt easy. Over the top, an Aevolo rider counter-attacked. I bridged across, and just as I caught him, I swung across to the other side of the road and kept the pressure on the pedals. It didn’t take much – attacking is often more about timing and positioning than it is pure strength – and I already had a gap. I was hesitant at first, since I didn’t want to spend the next 50 miles alone, but then a few riders bridged across to me. Before I knew it, we had a group of 10, and all of the big teams were there. As soon as riders started yelling “Let’s go, let’s go! We have a gap!” I knew this breakaway was going to work.
45 miles to go and we had a minute’s gap on the field. I felt great, but a few riders were already struggling in the break. In just a few miles, three riders were dropped from the break while two more bridged up from the field. When things finally settled down, we had a minute and fifteen-second gap on the field, and it was holding.
I felt amazing. I’ve never felt so good. But I was holding back, saving energy on my pulls, and waiting to attack on the last lap. And then…we stopped. With less than one lap to go, a severe thunderstorm in and the officials stopped the race. We all went back to the start, huddled under an overhang, and camped out in the library. 10 minutes passed, then 20, then 30…I decided to go back to the car. The rain was still coming down sideways, but I needed to get warm and dry. The parking lot was a river at this point, and I could barely see as I careened towards my dad and brother who were camped out in the car. I threw my bike in the back before plopping down in the front seat, heater on full-blast.
An hour later, still no update. After refreshing Twitter over a thousand times, finally: “U23 race to be restarted at 4:30. Weather dependent.” – The whole ‘weather dependent’ part makes it very vague. We could still see lightning streaking across the sky. It had stopped raining at this point, but as we lined up for our 20-mile to go restart, we saw flashing in the clouds and heard rumbles of thunder in the distance.
***
Our breakaway of 8 restarted with a 1:05 gap on the field, the last-known time check before we were neutralized. I thought it would be enough; surely, it would be enough. But 5 minutes in, we were rotating hard in the breakaway, and the gap was down to 50 seconds. What?! How?!?! The field was going ballistic, and Aevolo – the biggest pro team in the race with 8 riders – was doing a full team time trial on the front of the field, trying to catch us.
I pulled through, I rotated hard, and I did my fair share of the work. I wanted the break to stick just as much as the next guy, but with 4 miles to go, the Aevolo rider who’d been (smartly) sitting-on for almost two hours, attacked us. In an instant, the break was shattered. I stood up to follow, but I had nothing. My legs have never felt so bad. What happened??
As I watched the Top 5 ride away, I was stuck with my former teammate from Marian, Hugo. He had been riding strongly all day; I was surprised he got dropped. I was psychologically broken. The win, the dream, was gone. But at the same time, the podium was right there, the podium at the National freakin’ Championships. 10 seconds up the road, I could almost reach out and grab it. Almost.
At 3k to go, the leaders were out of sight, and Hugo and I looked over our shoulders in a panic; the field was coming. Sh*t, we’re gonna get caught! I couldn’t believe it. How could I let this happen? How could I let all of my hard work go to waste??
At 1k to go, everything is an uphill. I can barely pedal anymore, but I’m trading pulls with Hugo because I want to survive. But even more, I want both of us to survive. Hugo has always been such a good, thoughtful, and caring friend and teammate; I was never going to attack him. On the last roller – the last hill, the LAST f***ing hill – I got dropped. Hugo didn’t attack me, he just rode away. I just didn’t have the legs. And it was the worst feeling in the world. At 500 meters to go, I looked over my shoulder and…there’s the field, charging full-speed into the last set of corners while I’m just hanging on, trying not to cry until after I cross the finish line.
***
Everything or nothing. Ecstasy or agony. All it took was 24 hours, to go from the result of my life to one of the most devastating races I’ve ever done. It’s taken a long time to process this, and I’m still not sure if I really have, but there’s nothing else to do but move on. I try not to live in the past, whether that be clinging on to the glory days or agonizing over defeat. The best thing we can do is experience the present moment, because no matter what happens, you will remember this moment for the rest of your life.