I went down to Chicago land for racing on Saturday. Our good friend Ted put on a race as part of the Chicago Cup series, and asked us to come down to support him. For all Ted does for us, I figured I would go down and do what I could to help. Ted asked me to be the race doctor, which I thought was pretty funny, but I said sure! I had to be there for the entire day, so why not race as much as possible.
So, I leave the house about 6 am to get down there to pre-ride the course and be available for first aid when the first race starts. Little did I know I would have to dodge bullets during pre-ride, literally. Some dudes were hunting in the area with gunshots poppin' off while we where checking out the course. Oh well, just ride faster than the bullets, right?
So the course was held on a golf driving range, but was actually fun with many fast swoopy turns and a fly over (I know some peoples' view on fly overs, but whatever, it was something different).
Anyway, I line up for the masters 30+ race. I end up 4th row in the grid. Boo. I have a decent start from that position and continue to work my way up. I'm feeling pretty good, able to put down some power, make some good passes and to top it off, I'm having fun! I end up 6th, just out of the money, but happy with how it went.
Next up, Pro/1/2/3 race. At this point my legs are starting to feel like poo. I've been standing around all day. I've already raced and my motivation is kind of low. I kit up, do my old school warm up (which means pretty much nothing) and go to the start grid. Again, I lined up 3rd or 4th row, everyone at this point is just packed together. I have another decent start. I make some passes, then, I get chopped in a couple corners and that's it. I drop 10-15 places, arrrvvvvvv! I need to get better at that soooooo bad. Crusty? Mike? Bueller?
I keep working my way up, theme here, until I'm in a group of 4 that is running just outside the top 10. I'm feeling good again, just sitting in a bit and recovering. Then one of the guys makes a move, two of us follow. No problem right? A half lap later, things start to shut down. My legs start cramping and there is no power left in them. I see the two guys fade into the distance and think of what could have been. Now, I think, just don't let the guy behind me make the catch. I end up enjoying the last 2 laps, flashing waves and other gestures at my fans, I mean fan, I mean the one Title Sponsor that was there supporting (some of the sponsors had to work, you know, so they can sponsor!). I finish 16th, but had a ton of fun and some great training for the coming weeks.