I should mention that at Mile One some clown tears off the front like a scalded cat.  Nobody so much as budges and the race referee slows his motorcycle next to us, raises his visor and says to us, "I guess he's feeling strong…" with a smile.  We all just chuckle and scratch him off our mental list of worries for the day.  I wonder if he lost some kind of bet...

Lap 1, Climb 1 "Mr. Galibier" goes to the front and is soon joined by most of the protagonists; the White Armed Marauder is my biggest concern, other than dodging the carnage the Purple Menace is leaving behind him, wobbling like he's trying for some kind of bad-riding award.

Galibier, the Orange Twig, Tattoo all take turns smashing it at the front while Big Green (Mike Kuhen) sits second or third wheel and I watch him slowly go from "hot" on their wheels to melting.  He's been racing about as long as me and I keep waiting for him to have a season where he arrives in August ready to tear some legs off.  He's a big guy and I think it's just a matter of time.  Today though, I watch his green & white jersey soak through with sweat and his head tilt ever so more & more to the side as he clings furiously to whomever is at the front.

The Tattoo, just behind me is jovial; cracking jokes and he doesn't sound to be hurting as much as the rest of us.  "Oh brother" I think, "it's not hard enough to shed these big guys…"

We make it over the first hill and the fast descents begin.  The terrible 50mph roads with longitudinal cracks have been (mostly) repaved so we flew down them single file and with each flattening of the road The Tattoo and the White Armed Marauder would move to the front and drill it often with the help of Mr. Galibier and some of the other characters… strung out on the descents!  Perhaps it was going to be a hard enough race after all.

On the second climb the whole menagerie of guys is pushing it and I sit in patiently, a little too nervous to really get a good look back but it seems like there are still twenty or thirty guys with us… too many.  These climbs aren't nearly as long as Catskills - I'm beginning to worry. I can Honeybadger myself into the top half of a ten man selection but the top five of a thirty man selection - not nearly as simple.

I cruise up to Mr. Galibier who seems to be climbing ahead of us all without effort and waiting at the top of some climbs, "Hey there are still thirty guys here - we're going to have to make it harder if you want to get rid of them…" I tell him, and he pretends not to hear.  I never understand why some guys act like that in races. Whatever.  It's Velocity, I should have known.

Meanwhile we're approaching the Dragstrip for the first time and I am excited to see how it goes; there are some attacks, some counters… I follow wheels and generally skip pulls when people are bitching about "We've got to chase him!"

"Who is this 'we' you speak of Kemosabe?" is what I thought to myself, but I just shruged and pull off to stay out of the wind.

Lap 2 Climb 1 "Mr. Galibier" decides he's too sexy for us Freds (get it?) and rides off uncontested.  Riding "smart" means if *one* guy gets away then I may be able to sit in while others chase the top step of the podium.  It definitely doesn't mean I chase the lone strongman who escapes.

Big Green mutters that it's just ridiculous how easily Gailibier was riding while we "all" suffered so badly.  I didn't have the heart to tell him that not everyone was on the rivet.  White Jersey from Catskills was still lurking and looking fresh, and Mirror Guy would make occasional appearances climbing effortlessly.  The Tattoo still had breath to share jokes and the fountain of sweat hadn't stopped coming off him… the Orange Twig made several oddly timed attacks - right at the beginning or end of descents - both kids would end unceremoniously with the Tattoo or the Purple Menace chasing him down.

Lap 2 Climb 2 we are still twenty and I'm getting pretty despondent.  How am I going to get into the top five here?  I guess I'll have to head back to Floyd and put my fate into the hands of the gods of the Tall Grass in the Setting Sun.  "Just do what you're supposed to do." I tell myself; ride smart and you won't be disappointed.  I think to myself, "Besides, this is really hard.  My legs hurt and I'm tired.  Maybe I don't really want to hurt any worse than this.  Being a four isn't so bad…"

It wasn't too long before we were at the foot of the Dragstrip for the last time.  I'd drunk both bottles, had both GU's and wasn't feeling any of the cramps that had plagued me at Catskills.  "Oh well," I thought, "just ride your limit and follow moves…"

I tossed it in the big ring and prepared myself emotionally for some pain.  The early attacks were easy to follow because they weren't that big; just accelerations that ratcheted up the pace.  Then the Orange Twig went, and I jumped to his wheel.  Then the White Jersey whent and I jumped over to *his* wheel… he started diving from one side of the road to the other and looking back… "Come on man, we're not on a velodrome!" I shouted and he cut it out.  Then came the White Armed Marauder and I followed, then came the Purple Menace - his was the most dangerous since we were closing in on the 1km to go mark… I hung on and concentrated on the landmarks; people were on the side of the road screaming - the Purple Menace opened his sprint early and I followed, with someone else.  Purple was going strong but I kept my head low and spun it up, shifting harder only when I had the RPMs to do it.

I was dreading the "swarm" in the final meters, but I didn't hear the familiar sounds of approaching bikes...

In the last 25m I think I went from 5th or 6th in the sprint to 3rd - including the bike throw.

FOURTH!  I'd done it.  

Looking back I'm still surprised at the guys who couldn't make it up the dragstrip with me.  They all seemed plenty strong enough in the climbs beforehand - but I wasn't riding my limit, I was riding to follow wheels and although it hurt a lot I don't remember thinking "I can't do this."

There was some drama when they posted the results and had me at third; but third place protested and apparently the film showed what I'd remembered.  Fourth it was.  (It'll be cool if I can see the photos myself if they are close) Guys will be happy & sad to know USADA was there and apparently testing the top 20 in each field - knowing how expensive the tests are I was a bit surprised, but when there were no escorts, and we were sent unattended from once locale to the other, after about thirty minutes of just trying to FIND the cup to piss in, we were told, "no, they won't be testing you after all…" which was a pity because it would be cool to be good enough to get tested someday…. ah well.

Twenty Five bucks of sweet, sweet muffin money and my ticket punched to "the threes" should I so choose…