Race Report: Quabbin Reservoir Road Race

Knowing this was my longest and probably toughest race of the year, I set two achievable goals. First: Finish under 4 hours. Second: don't finish last.

What wasn't said was the third, implicit, goal: Finish the race.

Taking a tip from the NEBC, I lined up on the front row. The good: A front row lineup makes it easy to hear the marshal's instructions and lowers the probability you are going to be involved in a start crash. The Bad: You could be the cause of the start crash if you don't clip in quickly and correctly.

At the start, I didn't clip in perfect, but again taking a tip from NEBC, I continued pedaling while finishing the job. My second clip attempt succeeded and I was surprised to find myself a bike length in front of the field. Objective Complete: Didn't cause crash at start.

For the first four miles, the field was neutralized, meaning a motorcycle set our pace. Given the rate at which we descended (and how much we were on our brakes) this was a wonderful decision by the organizers. Any false move here could have proved fatal if we were left to our own devices.

As we got closer to the "real" start, I started drifting back. I'd like to say it was a calculated move, but the fact of the mater was faster riders were itching for position. When the race started I was two back from the front, in a perfect position protected from the wind.

We were cruising at 22 or so mph and I was feeling pretty good. When we hit the first hill the pace dropped considerable (~17mph), and the attacks started.

Bam! A rider rockets by me on the right, a rider on the left responds, jumping onto his wheel. Murmurs abound, "Way to early for that."

On the next hill, I started having some issues, my legs seemed to be revolting from the pressure of hill climbing. I cycled back through the field and pretty soon dropped off the back. In effort to hang on, I shift and promptly dropped my chain.

With my experience at D2R2, I wasn't bothered. I just pulled to the side, and put the chain back on and carried on. Of course, in the time it took to do that, I became last.

Fortunately, the hill that dropped me, also dropped others, so I settled in and stamped out a pace to catch up with them. In short order, I caught up with this chase group and after taking a short breather, launch my own attack.

In my defense, this was singularly the clumsiest attack I've ever launched - the shifts were so loud everyone had to know what was coming.

I shot by the trio of riders and barreled down the road. In short order, it was obvious I didn't do anywhere near the damage I had hoped,. Instead of sitting up and forcing someone else to work, I plugged on setting the pace. My weakness on hills apparent; another rider (who was built like a climber) took pulls on the hills and I took them on the flats and descents. (The other two didn't do any work).

We continued in this way for a while, with me taking the most turns at the front. However, something else was troubling me. We seemed to be going into Amherst center, which I didn't recall being on the route. At the center, I called it - we had gone off route. A quick conversation with a pedestrian confirmed it, so we needed to turn around.

20 miles later we found the turn we missed. On the road there was a painted turn, on one telephone pole - a sign. When we reached the intersection the first time, there was a car parked over the paint and no one noticed the sign (probably because we were all worried about the intersection). C'est la vie.

So we rejoined the course. Albeit way back. At this point, I am toast. I've paced this group most of the way (in both directions) and I'm getting tired. Going up the hill, a gap quickly forms between me and climber and I have no energy to close it.

A bit into the climb, one of the other guys announces he's done, and turns back. Shortly after that the remaining one follows suit. As I continue on, a trickle of riders coasts by in the other direction. This sight gives me hope - I can't be to far behind.

This hope is slowly dashed as the miles continue.

Remaining properly hydrated was number one concern. It was unseasonably hot this day and I only had three hours of liquid. Given the detour, this meant I was going to run out of water with one to two hours of riding left. Not good. Very not good.

This fear was abated when I saw opportunity – a man washing his car. He kindly obliged and I was replenished.

There's not much to write about these middle miles. Suffice it to say, the race became VERY hard for me around mile 60 - knowing I had 20 more miles to go, praying the broom wagon would come sweep me up, but never the less continuing to pedal. Left leg, right leg... rationing my remaining water... very very tough.

In the end I made it, just as the finish line was being packed up, the Lanterne Rouge.

According to the official results, I finished 58 out of 75 starters, the remaining being DNFs.

Tough course, not helped by the heat and blazing sun of the day. Wonderfully run race, friendly helpful officials, all in all a great race.