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Lynette crosses the finish line on her first race to receive a 3rd Place Cherry Pie ...
MY FIRST RACE! Lynette Chiang www.galfromdownunder.com
"But I just came to watch..."
Those of you who have followed my recent amble through the flatlands of the Yucatan (see www.galfromdownunder.com) will know me as a die hard tourer, all saddled up with somewhere exotic to go when I can sneak away from responsibility. So when asked if I would like to go watch Tim Link, Stephen Strickland and other BF staff do the first OBRA (Oregon Bike Racing Association) race of the season I thought, sure, I'll watch.
We drove out to Harrisburg, close to Eugene, Tim Link and his Pocket Pilot and me and my demo Pocket Rocket Pro Petite folded in the trunk, so I would look the part while cheerleading on the side.
Somewhere in all the jostling I was cajoled into signing up not only for the race, the Cherry Pie (42 flattish miles with a bit of hill in the middle), but for the entire racing season. I think someone said it would be fun, and I believed them.
But which division? There was women Cat 1 (i.e. Ms Armstrong), 2,3,4 (beginners), and Masters 35+, 40+ and 45+.
"Don't sign up for the Masters, theye old professionals and they go fast," said Ted, BF Wheelwhiz. But there were only 3 names on that list and about 25 youngbloods on the other, so Masters 40+ sounded good to me.
Tim told me to put some sugar in my water bottle, being a more convenient way of upping the energy levels at speed without grappling with Hershey's wrappers. I also ate two bananas, and a portion of a grossly large cinnamon roll from the local diner.
'Too much oil, bananas are better,' said Tim, a bit too late.
Race time was 11.50am, leaving plenty of time to cruise up and down the road deciding if I could stand shivering in minimal clothing so as to give myself the best chance of coming second last rather than last.
At the starting line I was surrounded by a platoon of seriously athletic young women on their titanium and carbon fiber steeds. Even the 45+ entrant was decked out like a Ms Armstrong. There is something mannish about women on performance bikes, you can't exactly call it soft and feminine. I rolled up with my little yellow Bike Friday and I am sure some thought I was someone's kid sister with my little folding bike.
The first half a lap was social and chatty, women talking about cycling clothes, movies, music. I obeyed the advice from BF veterans and stayed towards the front, drafting as far as possible. A small person like me holds little hope of staying up front unless I jump on the wheel of others. As the speed picked up I noticed the competitive streak of the bike racer come to the fore. There was a nudge at my hips and a drop bar was slap up against it, telling me ever so politely to hove over The slightest gap and a bike was there to fill it. And there was no Have A Nice Day either.
About 10 miles into the race my life support system - my water bottle full of sugar water - flew off.
'Water Bottle!' yelled a chain of voices but we all kept going.
At the hill I realized that I was not going to finish if I did not get water fast. I saw a car of bystanders and asked them if they had water. A woman got a full bottle out of the trunk. 'I'll give it to you at the finish!' I yelled. 'Keep it, GO GO GO!', she yelled back.
But I lost my draft. I was suddenly alone, abandoned in the land of the left behind. And then the cramps started: deep in the tops of my thighs, feeling like parched muscle fibers sticking together. I tried to eat the melted Almond Joy in my pocket by squeezing the wrapper between my teeth while grinding up the hill, and realized why many racers use those fancy energy goos in insta-squeeze packs that I shun because when touring, refueling means stopping to smell the roses or cow dung and eating a nice two-course snack. Clearly I need to learn the art of eating 'on the wheel'.
I caught up with a lone rider in pink, Stacey from Portland, and together we finally caught a bespectacled gal also on her first race. Behind us came a Uni of Oregon gal, who being 20 years younger than I proved a way better puller. The four of us pacelined in until my crutch started to complain bitterly about the lack of bike shorts, and I dropped off the back.
'We were looking at your pants wondering how on earth you were going to do this,' said Stacey as she flew past.
'I came to watch!' I said.
'That's AWESOME!'
I had reservations about doing the race because I knew I would come close to last, and I did not want people to get the completely wrong idea that a Bike Friday is slower than a big wheel bikes.
I need not have worried. The mere fact that I was out there was enough to have all but the most aggressive front runners smile upon me.
'That bike is really impressive,' was the main passing comment.
Finally I rolled over the finish line, 2.5 hours and 42 miles later, and to my surprise was presented with one of the prizes: 3rd place ribbon and a cherry pie in a box. And how great it is great to see the name Bike Friday appear on the OBRA results page: Cherry Pie Results
So, I came third in a division of three. That was the fastest bit of 'onlooking' I have ever done, and I might just go back for another look!
+++
Bike Friday Race team: we're looking to form a Bike Friday race team for the OBRA season. Any folks in the vicinity are welcome to join, BF will even pay your entry fees. The catch is, you must ride a Bike Friday. Call on 1-800-777-0258.
BF Staff do a fast training ride every lunchtime at noon and BF friends who happen to be dropping by are welcome to join. Results of latest BF Time Trial.
Candy Walker, also a BF owner came second in the division though she was riding her Other Bike on this occasion. We won't hold that against her ... much ... She came probably 6th or 7th overall which was and outstanding effort.
More stories about Lynette attempting to go fast
Shortcut to this article: http://tinyurl.com/ypcj5