We had been checking the forecast the entire way down to Walburg. We looked on every different iPod app we had and all app’s pointed to a sunny start with a light south breeze and only about a 20% chance of rain for the day. It sounded real promising. The apps were wrong! The sun was hidden behind a think overcast and the thoughts of another Walburg day was the gossip. Apparently, Walburg has a reputation for bringing out some nasty weather, somehow the rain or wind finds its way to this race each year. This year was no different. The temps weren’t too bad; I got by with bibs, a short sleeve base, jersey, wool socks, and my gloves. However, the overcast soon turned to drizzle and the wind began to pick up. The once dry farm roads littered with dobs of mud and cow poo started to look more like a motocross course at times than that of a road race. Yes! It was going to be epic. I had never done Walburg before but I did want the complete Walburg experience and it looked like mother-nature was going to give it to us.
The RACE, 72 miles of hills, false flats and a long uphill finish and yes, I do mean a long uphill finish. This was a 24 mile circuit so we had the opportunity to ride the course three times. I was riding without a computer, for the first time ever, so I’m not exactly sure how long of stretch that finish climb was but I know it started before the 1 km marker. It started off gradual and then just began to wear on you. It was a finish you would definitely have to get your timing right if planned on sprinting it out.
The race had a nice little neutral roll out until the first left and then without wasting any time the pace quickly picked up. It was nice and steady and my starting position was good somewhere in the top ten. That’s what I had hoped for. Close enough to see what’s going on but not getting beat up by the wind or anything. My teammate, Mark, and I had kind of discussed a strategy prior to lining up. We had a couple of guys marked, expecting a break, and hoping to stick one of us in it.
Within the first five to ten miles the attacks started (sorry, I didn’t have my computer to give a little more accurate detail). One of the guys we had marked, who is also from Oklahoma, jumped. I jumped. We went a little off the front and he’d look back to see what was going on. He’d sit up, I’d sit up and we’d fall right back in. He went again, I went again, same result. I hadn’t ridden with him since last season but I know how he is in a break and he’s smart, he works and he’s a pretty cool cat to go along with it, all are great things when you’re off the front so I didn’t want to miss it if it happened. A mile or two later, he went again and I went again…same result. This time though I started wondering if maybe he wasn’t working for a teammate of his. I had ridden with him a week earlier and he was on point. He is also killer in a break and I decided that I wouldn’t try to cover another break with this guy and see if his teammate jumped at all. That decision to wait was my first wrong decision of the day. Somewhere between miles 15-18 the guy jumped and I didn’t go. Mark, my teammate, did however and it proved to be the best decision of the day.
The break started out as eight or so riders and eventually grew to twelve pretty quick. That’s when the switch flipped in my head. I’m pretty sure this was the first time this had ever happened to me or happened so apparent that I noticed it. I went in to teammate mode and I stopped worrying about my own personal result and I focused on the teams result. I stayed towards the front, within the first five or so riders and I watched, I covered attempted breaks to bridge up, and I listened for the time gaps. That was my job for the next 54 miles, to listen to time gaps and help that time to become more distant. I couldn’t even tell you how many attempts I covered in 54 miles, a lot. I don’t remember the last time my legs felt as good as they did on February 20th but I’m glad they did. Each time the motorcycle official called out a time I would try to do the math in my head and figure out what the odds were of the peloton catching the break. As the miles rolled by the break of twelve dwindled down and each rider was absorbed by the peloton. Each time we saw a guy drop I looked for the DNA Green and I never saw it. Each guy that rejoined the peloton increased our odds at a win. Neither, the peloton or any attempt to bridge up ever reached the break.
Mark was able to pull ahead on the final climb to the finish and bring home DNA’s first victory of the season! Me on the other hand, I had a decision to make at the end as we were approaching the final stretch to the finish. Do I sit in and try to recover a little and sprint it out or do I try to go with the few guys still trying to go off the front. I chose the latter of the two. My hope was that the field would let us get a small gap and hold it to the finish. By now my legs were feeling worn down from all the surges and I knew I wouldn’t have much of chance if I put myself in a position to sprint it out. As we hit the 1 km mark you began to see so many riders you hadn’t seen all day. Where did all these guys come from? About 2/3rds up the climb I was still in pretty decent shape and could possibly pull off a top ten finish. Then what I knew was coming happened, everyone started jumping and despite my effort my legs just didn’t have in them. I rolled across the line in 21st place.
21st place? How does 21st place feel? For this race, it felt great. Everything was clicking for me. Despite only 4 hours of sleep, mentally I was feeling good. Physically, my legs felt great. I felt as if I did my job as Marks teammate to do what I could to secure him a chance for the win. Did what I do really help…I’ll never know, but Mark and DNA Racing did get the win that day and I’m proud to be a part of that.
Some props, you might have noticed while reading this report that there are some killer pictures. That's all because of one man, Andy Chasteen. The guy is amazing. An amazing person and amazing behind the lense. If you need some shots, rock climbing, to sky diving, to just chilling with your family give this man a shout.
