Athens Twilight

Ok, here are my thoughts from Athens. WARNING -- This is ridiculously long. Sorry, I can't help it: Athens is amazing. Read on - especially if you didn't go! You need to understand what you missed!

The Qualifier.

I've missed qualifying both previous times I went to Athens, and this year I was hell-bent on making it. My legs felt a little stuffed during warmup, and I was nervous as a cat at the start (only 46 pre-registered, but it looked like closer to 70 at the start. Lots of day-of registrations, I'd guess.). I got away clean and sprinted hard to take up position in about 5th spot. I hung out there, between 1st and 15th, for almost the entire race, which was fairly uneventful. A couple early attacks went and amounted to nothing. Ben Gabardi made a good move that gained a bit of ground, but he overshot turn 2 (the very tight offcamber right-hander) and blasted straight off the course into the curb. Too bad for him and I hope he's ok.

Other than that, it was steady and controlled. I followed wheels a couple times when guys attacked, but only to keep myself on or near the front. The pace was quick but very manageable -- I was never in difficulty, just working hard and steady. On the last lap, the pace went ballistic and I got a little tangled with a ProBike rider going (again) into Turn 2. I lost a few spots and panicked a little, but just dug in and started clawing back up. I didn't have much pop in the sprint, but got across the line for 14th. Darryl was with me the whole race and rocketed out of turn 4 to claim 2nd (I thought he had it won, but that hill sprint is tough and longer than it looks).

USCF Finals

Wow. That's about all you can really say. It's the greatest amateur bike race in the world. There is absolutely nothing I have ever done like toeing that start-finish line, staring down Clayton St. (lined 10 people deep on both sides as far as you can see), the race announcer howling like a lunatic in your ear, house music blasting at rock-concert volume over the crowd, the smell of hot dogs, charcoal, beer, and french fries in the air as what seems like every college kid in the state is whooping it up, hollering for you, your heart hammering in your chest, waiting for the gun... My hands were literally shaking, and there were so many people on the street that Clayton looked about the width of a sidewalk (instead of 4 huge lanes).

The first lap run down to Turn 1 from Clayton onto Lumpkin is probably one of the greatest, scariest, most exhilarating experiences of my life. By the time the official finishes saying "Riders Ready!" half of the 125 person pack has launched. I took off, jammed my foot in the pedal, and sprinted like an absolute maniac for the setup for Turn 1 -- seriously, 100% flat-out effort from the gun. Down the street, 300 meters in what feels like a second, and you're barreling down on the turn. You swing ALL the way to the left and then bank hard to the right, 30-something miles an hour (feels like 90), into the corner in front of the Georgia Theater, with hundreds of people inches from your face, brake levers clipping the metal barriers on your left. It feels like jumping off a hundred foot cliff into a tunnel 6 inches wide. Guys were yelling, screaming, cursing everywhere, brakes squealing, bike parts popping and cracking, and you hear the crowd roaring above it all. You smell smoke from all the grills in the beer garden, and then the smell instantly is replaced by the stench of burning rubber and atomized brake pads. Everybody out of the top 50 at this point is instantly gapped, and their day is already over (even if they don't realize it yet).

You whip out of Turn 2 so fast that you go straight across the road into the gutter on the left (even though you're going uphill), then jump straight out of the saddle up the hill as hard as you can go. Anything less than 100% effort here and you'll be watching the back of the field ride away. Top the hill and into the 12 cog, flat-out at 35+ mph down to smooth, wide turn 3, and immediately set up for the "Widowmaker" -- Turn 4 -- a wicked, rough, tightening, off-camber right-hander that tries to throw you straight into the barriers on the exit of the turn. Out of Turn 4, you crush it up the slight rise on the front straight before you plunge down over the crown to the start-finish, barely a minute gone, thundering over the start-finish line (which on lap 1 was literally rippling in the air from the force of the field roaring over it). All you see is the wheel in front of you -- you're aware of the crowd because you hear them and feel them, but you have no time to see or hear or think anything but hanging on to that wheel in front.

3 laps in, I'm feeling good, sitting in about 20th, dropping into Turn 1, and I hear somebody yell "TIRE!". I look through the corner and see Darryl on his back, bike flying in the air, and guys going down everywhere. I get a glimpse of Toone nearby and also down. I grab 2 handfuls of brakes and juke as hard as I can to the right, heading straight at the curb, and barely squeeze by. By the time I'm by the pileup, I realize my mistake -- I should've just slid into the pile and taken my free lap. Now, I have to chase, but the front of the field never slowed down, and we were going almost 30 at the time of the wreck. The 10 riders ahead of me are already out of the corner, going up the hill, a 10 meter gap between me and them. I go as hard as I can, 100+ guys on my wheel, and barely make contact as we crest the hill, my HRM screaming at me (198BPM!). No sooner do we get settled down than the pace is ballistic again, and I'm out of the saddle, hanging on.

3 laps later, swinging out of turn 3, lining up turn 4, I've slipped back to about 20th, and I hear it again -- BANG! You know what's coming -- tires sliding, guys yelling and screaming, and that slamming sound of metal and bodies hitting everywhere. Again I locked the brakes (almost did an endo!), juked to the right, got by the wreck, and instantly kicked myself for chasing and not taking the free lap. What a rookie! Again my HR goes through the roof, I barely make contact, and I realize now it's just a matter of minutes before my day is over.

But you can't quit -- you have to go down swinging (or in my case, pedaling til my legs felt like they'd fall off, almost puking, and gritting my teeth so hard that my jaw still hurts). I held on for a few more laps and finally slipped off and got pulled, totally done, about 18 minutes into the 35-minute race.

So, in the end, I made it halfway on my first try, even despite making a couple huge, ill-advised bridge efforts -- not too bad! I waved to the crowd, limped to the sidelines and cheered on Darryl and Brian, who were ripping it up at the front with the best of what was left. They made us all very, very proud, racing their guts out to the end, and both finishing in the top 20 (after doing the lions' share of the work, without help, to try and control the break of the day).

So that was that -- Athens, Round 1. I'm still savoring it, to be honest. I'll be back next year, and I'll finish. The year after that, I'll be in contention. That's my plan and I'm sticking to it!

A few more things and I'll end this encyclopedia:

1. Training plans work. 4 weeks ago I got dropped out of my first cat 3 race, less than 10 laps in. This week I held my own in the 3s, made the finals, and rode almost respectably in the hardest amateur crit in the country. Travis's training plan isn't complicated, but it keeps me accountable and focused. I'm faster because of it.

2. Team, if you're not doing Athens, you're missing out on the greatest thing you can do as a bike racer. Period. End of story. If you even like bikes, you owe it to yourself to at least come watch this race. There is nothing like it on the planet. Athens had bigger crowds and more energy than the finale of the (Pro Tour) Tour de Georgia (trust me, I was there). For one day, you get to be the star of the show. It is absolutely spectacular and will inspire you to race and train harder than ever. No other race even remotely compares, and no amount of training holds a candle to the real thing. If you don't see it yourself, you simply cannot understand.

Ok. End of sermon. See yall soon.

Jacob Tubbs