Merced is one of the many charming Central California towns bleeding directly off Highway 99. It is situated in the West Coast hotbed of almond farms, meth labs and gang violence.
Once a year, bike racing descends on this special city. This dazzling display of speed, heath and athleticism is a delight to Merced's growing homeless and non-english speaking population.
Nate Freed and I drove down to participate in the Downtown Criterium on Saturday followed by the Foothills Road Race on Sunday. Both Pro 1/2 races, with some big names showing up to race.
Merco Credit Union Downtown Grand Prix
Crossed wheels with U23 crit champ with 3 laps to go and went down so hard my rear wheel flew 500 yards away. DNF, but racing tomorrow. 8:30 PM Feb 28th from Twitter
40 Miles, 50 laps. Pancake flat course, with some narrow turns on the backside and a straight shoot through the finish line. The race was fast enough (28.3 mph avg) to keep me trapped in defensive mode. With 5 laps to go I locked onto the wheels of Rock Racing's Justin Williams (U23 National Crit Champ) and Rahsaan Bahati (USPRO Crit Champ) and refused to give them up.
Those same wheels two laps later jerked so hard across my front wheel that I crashed straight to the pavement. I tumbled over myself several times before somehow launching my rear wheel hundreds of feet down the course. Nate said he was able to draft my rolling-solo wheel to get back into the pack.
I broke my helmet, folded in my rear frame dropouts and warped both my wheels. Miraculously I walked away with nothing but a sore neck and some minor scrapes.
Merco Credit Union Foothills Road Race
Hung strong for 4 laps before running out of water. I had to stop & steal a bottle. Couldn't catch back onto the group. 120 miles, 4.5 hrs. 4:39 PM Mar 1st from Twitter
120 miles, 5 laps. Rolling flats with wind. It was fast. I attacked a couple times only to get chased down by riders far faster then I. Then I got a long stern public berating by Rahsaan Bahati for not watching my back wheel before I jumped out to attack. Ironically Rahsaan is the same guy who rode through my front wheel the day before while making some sketchy moves of his own. Then I dropped a water bottle and my attention turned elsewhere.
There was only a single person handing out neutral bottles for a field of 120 riders. Every time around I missed a handout. By the last lap my need for water overcame my desire to not-get-dropped. I stopped in the feedzone, stole two bottles out of a cooler and yelled out "Team Neutral Sucks!"
Team Neutral never saw the draft of the peleton again, and spent the last 20 miles riding by itself. I did have water though.
Article was last edited on Tuesday, June 2nd, 2009 @ 1:45 PM
