Crimson pools began to form on the wet pavement between my cleated feet, increasing in diameter and merging like so many amoebas swimming in a Petri dish. It seemed very odd to me at that moment and hadn’t quite yet crystallized into a clear, conscious and lucid thought.

Although the event was billed as an “Early Bird” race, it was my first official event racing my road bike in a USA Cycling race. I arrived early and registered as a Category 4-5 35+, then went back to my car, retrieved my trainer and placed it on the sidewalk in the fashion that so many others had already done.

After locking my bike into the trainer and preparing to get in the saddle and begin my stationary warm-up, I glanced down to locate the pedal in order to “clip in”. That’s when I first noticed the crimson pools. My eyes followed the crimson dots to where they originated near the lever that locks the rear wheel into the trainer. Retracing those dots back to my shoes, across the top tube of my bike and then to my handlebar and left hand, I could see that the source of the leak originated from the tip of my left pinky finger.

It turned out to be a real leaker and I couldn’t get the flow to stop. Fortunately I carry a huge “road rash” first aid kit in my car and was able to quickly apply the appropriate adhesive strips and stop the bleeding.

The Patterson Early Bird road race is contended over forty-four miles on a twenty-two mile out-and-back course on Del Puerto Canyon road. This race is know for flatting an unusually large number of tires, due mainly to the many sharp rocks that wash down onto the pavement during the winter months. Furthermore, the road is narrow and twisty which leads to more than the standard number of bike-to-bike incidents resulting in crashes. And if that wasn’t enough, the race is run in January and most years the pavement is pock marked with black ice in the deep, shady recesses of the curves.

For these reasons I have dubbed the race: Carnage Canyon.

So it was a bit disconcerting to me that my first race ever would be at this venue, and that the blood bath began even before the official blew sharply into the starting whistle to set our wheels in motion.

My team, Team Bicycles Plus/Sierra Nevada, was represented in my start by five riders, including one of my regular training partners, Chris Parod. Chris is a veteran and a mentor to me who would prove to be a great ally over the course of the next two hours.

Our field of some 50+ riders ambled along at a comfortable 18 mph pace which appeared to be hurting absolutely no one. A few riders attempted to make a break off the front on occasion but never even got enough of a gap to get out of sight (even with the twisting roads).

The smart move was to just “sit in” and try to remain near the front; the “sitting-in” was easy, staying near the front was not. In fact, just holding your position was a fight.

With the centerline rule in effect and the slow pace, the pack had compressed tightly forming three or four lines as the width of the road allowed. I don’t know how the physics work out on this phenomenon, but somehow, it’s easy to fall back in the pack, effortless in fact, but extremely difficult to move forward.

For me, I spent an enormous amount of mental energy fighting to hold my position and deflecting other riders from attempting to work in over my wheel. I wanted to ride in the top fifteen riders but found that it took many miles to move up just two or three positions.

You had to remain very attentive to the nearly imperceptible surges of the peloton, often times riding your brakes while continuing to pedal so that you could moderate your speed without kissing the wheel in front of you, or causing any sudden slowing that would effect the rider(s) behind you.

As the ride progressed I found that by moving to the far right side of the lane I could quickly move up about six rows of riders (18-24 positions) when road turned to the left. I took advantage of the effect of the peloton squeezing down toward the inside of the turn and leaving a lane of about one and half riders wide on the outside line.

I’d ride quickly along the right edge, improve my position substantially and then just hold my line while matching pace with the peloton as it expanded it’s breadth to consume the entire width of the lane once again. At that point I would reintegrate into the field at a much more advantageous position.

Coming up on the eighteenth mile I was riding about twenty-five riders deep and knew I needed to improve my position over the next two miles because that’s where the big climb would start and the field would be blown apart. Apparently, I should have moved up much sooner because in all my efforts to move up, I actually lost three positions.

My aforementioned teammate, Chris, found a way to move up three positions as I was falling back. The difference was huge as this rearrangement placed Chris about eighteen riders ahead of me; and I was riding his wheel at the time I made my decision to try and move up in the field! Over the course of two miles I had attempted to improve my position and ultimately gave up ground to nearly twenty riders in the process. I’ll need to work on that for future races if I’m going to be competitive.

Just as I was warned by my team mates before the race, there was an explosive attack at the base of the big climb, and as expected, sizable gaps began to form. Chris was in a position just off the back of the lead group and I could see him fighting hard to try and get onto their wheels. At the same time I was awash in the flotsam of riders who didn’t have the legs and/or lungs for this 1.1 mile ~9% (average gradient) climb.

As the climb progressed the riders began to spread out ahead of me and that left lanes for me to wiggle free, make a big attack of my own to close down significant portions of the gap, and then settle into a rhythm that would get me to the summit as quickly as possible without blowing up.

After ¾’s of a mile you could sense how the race was shaping up. Seven riders were grouped at the front, with a few strays including Chris, in the gap between the leaders and me. There were three of four stragglers beginning to form in the void behind me, then a sizable gap back to the next group.

Cones were set up at the summit of the climb where race officials turned the riders back down the hill and toward the finish line twenty-two miles back in the same direction we had just come from.

By my own reckoning, albeit under the duress of suffering up the climb, I counted seven riders in the lead group who were about 15 seconds ahead of Chris, who in turn was about 20 seconds ahead of me.

Those 15 seconds would be hard for Chris to make up on his own, but I wasn’t counting him out. On the other hand, if couldn’t get back on with the lead group, he would need some help getting to the finish, so I resolved to work hard to get into position to help him in the case of the later.

While descending the steep section of the hill I caught the rider in front of me and then elected to stay on his wheel for the balance of the descent, owing to the wet, the gravel, and the steepness and sharpness of the corners.

After working through two rotations with this rider once we bottomed out onto the essentially flatter roadway, it was clear to me that I would be doing most of the work if we were going to try and advance on the riders ahead of us, so I slowed down to match his efforts and hoped that a better situation was materialize, and it did.

Three more riders overtook us and lobbied for us to join them in a committed effort to chase down the lead group. We joined in and started pushing a strong pace that fluctuated between 25 and 30mph, depending on the terrain.

The rider I was working with at prior to joining the larger group couldn’t hold the pace and was blown off the back. The rest of us pressed on and started picking up stragglers from other races, and riders who were in the gap between Chris and I. With more riders, all sharing in the work, we were able to increase our pace and keep up the strong chase.

About eight miles from the base of the descent I was riding on the front and got a glimpse of Chris riding solo just up ahead. I had hoped not to see him again unless we were all integrated back into the lead group. Nonetheless, we absorbed him into our chase group and added yet another set of strong legs and lungs to our effort.

At three miles to the finish Chris whispered in my ear not to take any more pulls on the front, or if I did, to make them short. Taking his advice I was able pass under the 1 kilometer banner feeling fresh and lively. Just up the road we could see the lead group setting up to sprint it out and that was our queue to prepare to do the same.

As we began to jockey for position I once again found myself on Chris’ wheel, unfortunately, of the nine riders in our group, Chris was on seventh wheel and that put me on eighth wheel…I was out of position again!

Chris was riding with a head cold and just didn’t have the gas to make a sprint at the end so he beckoned to me get it revved up make an attack, which I did. I got by Chris just as the riders on the front charged out for the line on the uphill finishing stretch. As the sprint progressed I was able to get one, two, three more riders and was working on the fourth when the finish line had the audacity to suddenly show up and thwart my still advancing attack.

What a great day! I learned a lot, and learned that I still have a lot to learn. I felt like I let myself be taken advantage of in several situations and yet I was very pleased to finish 9th in my race (and either the 1st or 2nd Cat 5 finisher in this Cat 4-5 race). Having Chris out there to mentor me at the end was probably good for at least four positions. It’s great to have good teammates!