Tour de Nez 2012

Last Sunday was the Tour de Nez in its 20th anniversary. It is often a national calendar race, though not this year. A technical course, with seven corners and a corkscrew going into the final stretch. We had a high-quality field this year, with several riders each from four great pro teams (Exergy, Primal, NOW/ Novartis and Vanderkitten), and about fifteen local racers. It was windy, hot and dry. All of that makes for kind of an unforgiving peloton – there is not much “pack fodder” to help to hold things together, and things small gaps tend to increase in the wind.
About 12 minutes into the race, Mary Maroon, a very accomplished top local rider who wins many local races, broke away from the group by herself. “It’s not my job to chase that,” I thought from the middle the pack.
After a couple of laps, three riders – Taylor Wiles from Exergy, Emily Kachorek from Primal, and Robin Farina, last year’s national road race champion, from NOW/ Novartis – jumped away from the group to bridge up to Mary, making a four rider breakaway. I was boxed in at the time, but a few seconds later I jumped away with Ruth Winder, Vanderkitten, and we worked together to bridge up to the four, making a six rider breakaway.
For about a lap the three major pros did all the work at the front. Robin warned, “You have to work or we’ll start attacking you.” I moved to the front of the group and took a pull. Neither Ruth nor Mary had pulled through by the end of that lap. Robin attacked. Ruth fell off the pace.
The four of us worked together, and Mary kept about a bike length off the back of our group. She was playing invisible. The three pros were content to ignore her. But Mary is an excellent sprinter. I didn’t feel comfortable working that much harder than she was. I dropped to the back of the group, behind Mary, and sat out my pull. The other three suddenly noticed. Someone attacked and opened up a small gap. I accelerated around Mary, around the group, and took a fast pull. We dropped Mary.
The four of us worked together for the rest of the race, eventually lapping the rest of the field.
I was bawling an hour later. And I knew that I would be – that kind of physical intensity brings stuff up. Sad things.

I am racing as well as I think I ever have, and I feel like I have plenty of head room.
“It sounds like you do,” said Uncle George on Wednesday evening, over dinner just after I finally arrived in Rochester.
My dad’s eyes sparkled. He has a lot of trouble speaking these days. His mouth is a big mess. He can smile with his whole face.
“I almost didn’t race. I mean, really, fifteen or ten minutes before it was time to warm up, I really was tempted to get back in the car and drive home. So what if it’s three and a half hours each way? But I talked myself into engaging with the hard part of the warm up, and I lined up.”
“Where was this?”
“Reno, Nevada. I drove over Donner Pass to get there. It’s the course where I rolled a tire and crashed and hurt my knee last year. [My knee has been bothering me with intermittent intensity for the entire year.]
“I was feeling so good and strong and confident. Amber Rais was a few bike lengths off the front, and I was leading the pack after her. I took that corner really aggressively, I leaned hard into it. I was flying. And then my tire rolled, and I fell down.

"So this year I had trouble convincing myself to trust my tires, to trust the course. I kept reasoning with myself not to worry, but there is that visceral fear. It is not a course where you can afford to be afraid of the corners, because it is so technical. So I didn’t do very well in the sprint, and I finished fourth.“
“Wow,” Aunt Sally said on Thursday night, just back in Rochester after a conference in San Diego. In California, standards are higher. You’ve got to win the sprint. I’ve got to trust my tires. I came home yesterday.