Race Report (don't think, ride)

After spending the previous 90 minutes trying to break free from the field, I give up trying with two laps to go. I find myself a good wheel and sit on. To my knowledge he’s a better sprinter than me, or at the very least he’s as good a sprinter as me. Good enough, not great, but someone I can beat. I think to myself - If things go to plan, I’ll have the perfect leadout.

Through the confusion ahead, I see a teammate just up the road. He’ll be caught, that much is sure. The question is when. The field strings out. It’s not a painful pace, just enough to keep any attacks at bay.

I see my teammate digging deep, trying to get aero. Not easy considering that he’s got to be a foot taller than me. He’s digging. We’re riding. I look behind, wondering where a rider in Green and Black is. I haven’t seen him for the entire race, but that seems to be his style, and judging by his results, it works.

We hit a long stretch of smooth pavement, and the rider on front slowly drags my teammate back. My wheel looks over his shoulder. I smile. My teammate digs, but to no avail. We catch him with a little under a kilometer and a half to go. I shout for him to jump on, but it’s too late.

There’s a small acceleration. I look behind, and see that we have a small gap. Nothing significant, but something. My wheel looks over his shoulder. Again. I smile. Again.

Someone jumps. My wheel? I think so. I can’t remember. Our gap widens, but it’s fools gold, so I remain firmly planted on my wheel. My wheel says something to me. I smile. The pace drops, and a mass of riders pass, I jump to latch on, but it’s over. I think.

Too many riders are in front of me. I won’t even make the top 10. That’s bike racing, better luck next time, next week will be different. As I crest the top of the short sharp ‘hill’ of the course, I see a flash of green and black go past. I dig. I dig deep. He’s gone. But I have momentum. I may as well use it. I shift into my biggest gear.

Meters ahead the field has slowed down. They’re getting cute, pausing before the sprint. Meanwhile Green and Black flies past them. I catch and ride past the main body of the field, on their right. There’s a rider, slightly further to the right, blocking my line.

For once I don’t think, I just ride. I squeeze through the gap, and jump with everything I have. Only 350 meters to go.

I can hear the jeers and yells at me as I focus on the green and black jersey just ahead. He’s getting closer. 300 meters to go.

My legs are burning, I want to sit in the saddle, but I force myself to stay up. 250 meters to go.

I look at my computer, and am surprised that I’m not losing momentum. He’s getting closer. I try to squeeze out whatever power I still have. 200 meters to go.

He’s getting closer. I dig deeper than I have in a sprint, for a long time. 150 meters to go.

He’s getting closer. I’m so focused on Green and Black, that I completely miss the fact that there’s another rider ahead of the both of us. 100 meters to go.

I keep my speed. So does Green and Black. Second place will be his. 50 meters to go.

I smile, and think to myself - wrong wheel, that’s bike racing, better luck next time, next week - and cross the line.