Gran Fondo Leavenworth May 29, 2022: "A Dark Place"

 

Author:  Dwaine Trummert

Posted: 31 May 2022 06:36 PM PDT

My alarm arrived too soon. I scheduled just 30 minutes to go from sleeping to driving. The lack of natural light was sending strong signals to my mind and body that 3:15 was an unnatural time to be awake. The eight a.m. start of the 2022 Leavenworth Gran Fondo dictated a rough start to a tough day of riding.

A few minutes after five a.m., I arrived in Snohomish to meet up with my Fell Swoop teammate Thomas. We quickly transferred my bike and gear to his Volkswagen and pointed it towards Leavenworth.

Rain, logging, and mud conspired to make the dreaded Swakane Canyon unready for cycling. The promoter had changed the course to an out and back. This change didn't have much affect on the climbing or mileage statistics. It did change the feel of the race. Thomas and I shared our thoughts and came to the conclusion that this version would tilt more towards the strongest climbers. While that was good news for Thomas, it was less good for me.

There were no surprises as we kitted up for the start. The staging area, Peshastin Elementary School, was familiar. We shared some words with friends and teammates. The weather was friendly with forecast temperatures for the Leavenworth area in the range of 50 to 60 degrees. Clouds were in the forecast but just a single digit chance of precipitation.

Unlike previous iterations, we were not dreading the weather nor the torturous Swakane Canyon climb. With no aspirations of taking a win, I was in good spirits and looking forward to a challenging race that fell well within my capabilities.

At one point, it looked like Fell Swoop might field as many as nine racers. As the day of the event approached, the complications of life stepped in. Three Swoopers were forced to drop out. Adam was on that short list that was unable to attend. In the days leading up to the event, we did discuss the course and some tactical plans; but it wasn't until the eve of the event that I realized how much I would miss his camaraderie on race day.

Jake, a member of the Vicious Cycles Promotions team, led the traditional neutral roll out. He chose his vintage Yamaha BW200 for the task. Of course, speed was not the goal; but it was an agonizingly slow neutral out. At least, we had time to chat.

The goal of the neutral roll out was to get us safely to Eagle Creek Road. I slipped up the peloton as we approached the typical 'let loose' point of the course. I wanted to be near the front but not on the front. I heard the meek honk of the BW200 horn; and then, Jake hit the throttle. We were racing.

The out and back version of the Leavenworth event was pretty easy to characterize. The outbound leg was about ten miles of gradual paved climbing followed by about seven miles of gravel climbing followed by about eight miles of gravel descending followed by about twelve miles of gradual paved descending into the Entiat aid station - then turn around and back track to Peshastin.

The pace was manageable until the gravel climbing started in earnest. I was able to keep the leaders in sight a little longer this year before choosing to dial down to my own best pace. Once at my pace, it was a simple matter of turning the cranks near threshold for as many minutes as necessary. 

Fell Swoop teammate Thomas rides with the leaders during the first climb. Photo courtesy Mark Alan.

I completed the climb almost as fast as last year and was feeling good about my pacing as I neared the top. I was also slowly bringing back a group of about six riders. This was good news as it improved my chances of sharing the work when we reached the pavement on the other side.

The descent was smooth and fast in places. It was also filled with braking bumps in others. I had seen this descent in previous years and knew what to expect. I was bringing riders back one by one. When I reached the pavement, I was already on a strong looking rider's wheel. A quick shoulder check showed another racer eager to bridge up and make it three as we started the slightly downhill paved run into Entiat.

I had hoped for a larger group, but two friends was certainly better than none.  After just two rotations, one of the friends suffered a mechanical failure and was forced to pull off. My new best friend and I soldiered on. We chatted little, but we couldn't help notice we were both riding Ibis Hakka MX frames in the same color and size. I said we were meant to be 'teammates', and we both got to work alternately pulling our short train towards the aid station.

As we approached the turn around, I affirmed to my Hakka friend that we were well matched and that I wished for us to ride together on the way back. I needed water, and we agreed to make a quick stop - and I did but not quick enough.

In the time it took to fill two water bottles, a group of about ten riders coalesced and departed. I hit the road 30 seconds back, and I knew it might as well have been an hour. I didn't have the legs to win a ten versus one battle if I was the 'one'.  Good fortune struck, and I was not the 'one'.  A second rider was also caught out. He was strong, and we both knew what to do. After a few minutes of trading hard pulls, we were able to reconnect with the larger group. I thanked him as he was stronger and did the larger share of the work.

Getting into the large group turned out to be both a blessing and a curse. There was no organization. A number of riders were initiating a rotating paceline, but it repeatedly broke apart. I was on my toes as there were some unpredictable moves that threatened my front wheel. Eventually, the group did reach a consensus that we would rotate. Just one rider was having trouble which created havoc. Not efficient. Not safe.

Few words were spoken. I could read the frustration in the riders around me. I chose to open my mouth and encouraged the hold out to stick on a wheel. One broken rotation later I made it more clear by saying "I need you to hold that wheel". My next words were also clear: "If you can't maintain rotation, you need to stay at the back." I meant no disrespect, and I'm not sure how the remainder of the group felt about me giving one rider permission to sit on; but I achieved my goal. The rotation smoothed out.

Unfortunately for me, a smooth rotation didn't mean an easy rotation. We were still working against the gentle gradient. My legs were still stinging from bridging to the group. I was having a hard time eating while in the paceline.


Wheels on

Up to this point in the day, I had made good decisions. I had put myself in great position. I had put down a solid effort. I had done my share of work.

I projected forward a few miles and could read the writing on the wall. I would not be able to climb with this group. I didn't feel safe eating while in rotation. Lack of nutrition before the climb would be disaster. After two hours and forty-five minutes of racing, I elected to drop out of the group. I said "thank you" to the group, let the rider ahead of me know I was dropping, and waved goodbye.

The next twenty minutes was spent getting myself ready for the final climb. I had about three miles of pavement to get some food in. Another group of riders caught me just before the gravel started, and I surfed those wheels for a bit. When the pitch started to steepen, I chose my own pace and prepared myself for a long slog.


Wheels off

At three hours and fifteen minutes, off came the wheels. I felt the beginnings of leg cramps. Taking a nature break only postponed the inevitable. I stayed in my lowest gear and learned to manage the pain. The suffer was just beginning.

The pedals continued to turn as I rummaged through my mental cycling skills toolkit. Hydration and nutrition double checked and appeared to be on schedule. A caffeine shot was ingested. My position on the bike was altered as I looking for the tiniest relief. Racers were coming past regularly. Despair continued to crush my mental state.

Fifteen minutes later, I reached the lowest of lows. I muttered the word 'hate' under my breath with every turn of the crank. I actively searched for positive mental imagery and found none. I wanted nothing to do with a bike. I wanted nothing to do with Leavenworth. I wanted only to be home and have this day behind me.

At three hours and forty five minutes, I reached the steepest pitch and walked. This was good for my cramps but did nothing to lift my spirits nor speed. Riders were now coming past more frequently. I could not see my facial expression, but the reactions I caused made it clear. They were witnessing, in real time "a broken soul". They offered the kindest words and encouragements.

When I reached four hours into the event, I forced myself to eat again. It was a mini-wrap from the Pita Pit - one of my favorite Vicious Cycles traditions. Following this one positive emotion was an unstoppable wave of negative emotions. I gave myself permission to cry. I was most of the way up Forest Service road 5800, hiding from no one, still turning the cranks, and freely sobbing.

As I neared the end of the climb I contemplated the future. Would I ever again race gravel? Would I still be a cyclist? Would I share this story? I discovered few answers in the moment except the title of this blog post. At that same moment, I rounded a corner which revealed the camera of Mark Alan. I was looking shattered and gave not a damn. As I passed, I witnessed him inspect the image and imagined the grimace he must have captured.

Dark day for the author. I was crushed. I felt dead inside. Photo courtesy Mark Alan.

The remaining hour passed without drama. The gravel descent was taken below race pace. Once back to the pavement, I worked at an endurance pace. My race was not against the other riders. My only goal was to get off my bike and back to my home as quickly and efficiently as possible.

On the drive out of Leavenworth, I learned that my teammate Thomas finished in an impressive seventh. I shared little of my day other than it was not positive. When I returned home, my wife asked my how it went. My answer was short. "It was the worst day on the bike of my life."

It was the worst day, but it was not my worst performance. I've tried to keep the experience in perspective by remembering that I was performing well right up until I wasn't. I had made all the right moves to maximize my finish potential. If the race had finished in Entiat, it would have been a good day.

I haven't discovered why this experience turned so dark. I do know that the point in the race when I chose to drop from the rotating pace line was the turning point. There is something within me that drives my training, my preparation, and the motivation to push the pedals. It is the magic that makes me a gravel racer. It disappeared in a blink - at exactly 2h:45m into Gran Fondo Leavenworth.

MAY 2022 - Accidental Road Racer at the Tour De Bloom 2022

Author:  Dwaine Trummert

Early Spring in Western Washington isn't always warm or dry. When my race team, Fell Swoop, announced they were attending the Tour de Bloom stage race in Wenatchee and renting a house, I thought a long weekend under sunny skies didn't sound too bad. Originally, I planned to attend as a spectator, enjoy the weather and camaraderie, and leave the racing to the more serious roadies. But the inclusion of a 50+ cat 3/4/5 field seemed to offer a great vehicle for me to dabble my toes in proper road racing.

Tour de Bloom included four stages over three days. Road race stages one and four book ended the time trial and criterium. Racing at Pacific Raceways, known properly as a Circuit Race, prepared me for the basics. Yet there was plenty left to learn. In the week leading up to the event, I was feeling the nerves.

Adam suggested, as a tool to manage my apprehensions, to pencil down some process goals for each stage. He intended that I channel energy into creating and accomplishing some stage specific goals as a way to manage my overall level of nervousness. In the week leading up to the event, I chose two or three goals for each stage and put then down to paper.

The road trip to Wenatchee would also serve as an additional test for my Westfalia Vanagon. No land speed records were broken on Friday's drive, but my vintage van did survive a number of climbs including the final twisting ascent to Waterville.


Stage One - Waterville Road Race - 29 miles

One factor in choosing the Tour de Bloom as my first road racing event was the moderate distances that the 50+ 3/4/5 field would cover. Twenty nine miles seemed about right for getting a taste of open road racing. The course was through rolling fields with no significant climbs. The first twenty miles was a loop to the North of Waterville that returned us to town where we started an additional loop of nine miles that lay to the South.

The forecast included a decent chance of rain and temperatures of about 50 degrees. Choosing the right number of layers just added an additional level of apprehension as I prepared for the start. Talking to my teammate, Jonas, did nothing to calm me. He raced earlier, got soaked, and didn't remember being so cold on the bike.

Our field of 50+ 3/4/5 had nineteen starters. Five of whom were Fell Swoopers. We were combined with the 60+ field for a starting peloton of about 35 riders. As we chatted before the start, Z-dog warned of the possibilities of a strong crosswind section at about one quarter distance.

The race started easy as we headed East out of town. I spent the first ten minutes working on two of my process goals. I wanted to get comfortable racing within the confines of the center line rule. I also wanted to observe the general etiquette when riders moved about in the peloton. These goals kept my mind busy until we turned North and into the anticipated crosswind sections.

But there was no wind. It might have been the calmest I've seen in Eastern Washington. However, the chance to work would soon be on offer.

A series of rolling climbs were enough to split the field. As the efforts started to ramp up, I was hanging in good position and felt I could crest with the lead group. But it was not to be.

After a few miles of shuffling the groups were solidified. William Dejarlais, aka 'DJ', went off the front with a rider from the 60+ group. A chase group of three including Fell Swooper Jude was second on the road. Matt and I were in the second chase group of about ten riders. The rolling climb was enough that the remainder of the peloton was broken into pieces.

Knowing that teammate Jude was up the road in good position made for a strategically simple race for Matt and me. We needed only to cover any and all bridge attempts.

A rotating cast of four strong riders worked at the front over the next twenty miles. They put in strong pulls. I did not. Sometimes, they wanted to rotate at the front; but it seemed like I was too often on the wrong wheel and inadvertently disrupted the rotation. As needed, I followed closely when it looked like an effort was being laid down.

As we started the nine mile loop South of town, we caught a glimpse of Jude's group of three. We were slowly closing the gap and I was concerned they might be caught. When we were just a couple miles out from the finish, I felt confident Jude's group would stay away. Matt and I had a quick meeting. He offered to lead me out at the finish. When Matt dropped me off, I did my best and sprinted to second from our group for sixth. This was a surprisingly good result, and I was elated and thankful for Matt's effort.

On General Classification time, Strongman DJ was two minutes ahead of second place. The three man chase group came in together putting our man Jude third on GC and best of the Swoopers. He graciously accepted his nomination as team leader.

It wasn't until the racing was done that I realized I half failed on process goal three: Have fun. Pre-race I was a mess. But in the moment, during the race, working for my team, I had a blast. I found it most rewarding to dig in, follow a hard effort, wait for the shoulder check, and then see those shoulders slump with the realization that Fell Swoop was still on the wheel.


Stage Two - Malaga Time Trial - 9.5 miles

The downtime before Saturday's Malaga Time Trial was most enjoyable. The team was able to gather at the rental house for dinner and stories and camaraderie. Jonas prepared pasta. Jason shared stew and cornbread. Both were delicious, and I ate much too much. These hours were the draw for me when I planned to attend as just a spectator, and I savored them past my intended bed time.

I felt no need to put a large effort into the TT. Jude's excellent performance in the previous day's road race removed any GC burden from me, and I was free to stick to my three process goals: Survey the team for thoughts on how to choose an effort level, arrive at a sub threshold wattage target, and then hit it.

With no GC ambitions my TT was anticlimactic. Most of the team talked about the balance of maintaining some reserve for the afternoon's criterium while still optimizing TT time. I chose a low 275 watt target against my FTP of about 300 watts. I hoped to average 270 on the outbound downwind leg and then bump up to 280 on the return leg.

My warmup was uneventful; and before long, I was sprinting out of the starting tent.

My outbound leg was uneventful. I caught no other riders but a number of them blew past me. I watched the motored wheel his BMW into a too-close-for-my-comfort U-turn. The course turn around was a single cone placed on the center line.

My return leg was a different animal. The motoref rode my wheel for a few minutes - maybe he was admiring Mike's vintage Calfee. The wind, now taken on the nose, slowed me substantially. I was able to hold my preferred TT position most of the time, and I was getting better at holding steady power. Jude passed me, and I yelled encouragements that all included the word 'team'.

When results were posted, we learned DJ crushed it putting more seconds between him and the three or four riders in contention for second on GC. Jude solidified his role as team leader with a solid TT effort of fourth that kept him in the hunt for a GC podium.  

Only a single rider finished slower than me which cemented my role as domestique. My ability to hit my power targets improved as I rode. From 261 against a target of 270 in the outbound leg to 278 against a target of 280 on the return. The best reward for my effort was waiting form me back at the team house. A Subway sandwich and a couple hours of relaxation.


Stage Three - Downtown Criterium - 30 minutes

Leading up to the criterium, I knew a nerve storm was on the horizon. I took sixty minutes away from the hustle and bustle of team activity and closed my eyes for a little nap in the back of the van. When I woke, it was full steam ahead.

Process goals for the criterium were primarily focused on safety and experience. I wanted to spend time near the front where I expected to be surrounded by decent bike handlers. I wanted to observe the level of aggression into the corners and protect myself from inside moves. I wanted to take a lap at the front or in a break.

My pre race recon started with surveying the team. It was important to me to understand some of the standard procedures in a crit before I was standing on the line. Jason, Z-Dog, and Jonas patiently answered my questions about how to pull off, what to do if I flat, when to expect to be pulled, etc. When we arrived at the venue, I was able to calm myself with duties such as schlepping gear to the team tent and getting my kit in order.

The Wenatchee Downtown Criterium was, thankfully, a simple four corner layout. At the end of the start/finish straight, we turned left onto a short hill. The next left put us on the flat and gusty back straight. After corner three, we descended down the brick paved Orondo Avenue and into fast corner four. The streets were wide, clean, and mostly smooth.

Corner four gave me pause. I took a bunch of practice laps so I could come to terms with it. I was the last rider to take a practice lap and felt that I knew that corner well enough.

Minutes before we started, Z-Dog came up and gave me a hearty pat on the back. He knew I was freaking out on the inside. I could not have made it this far without him, and I told him so.

The start whistle took me by surprise. I was able to get moving and clipped in quick enough. The field strung out for a couple laps, and I just held the wheel in front of me. For the first five laps or so, I stayed out of trouble and came to terms with the downhill corner four. I was pleased to observe everyone around me was predictable and free of unnecessary risk taking.

After a few laps, I put my racing hat on and got to work. I knew that in a crit if you aren't moving up you are moving back. I found comfort in corners three and four. I often gained one position by setting up on the inside of corner three and making the pass entering four. I also found that the peloton would occasionally ease up approaching corner one. A few extra pedal strokes at the end of the start finish straight earned back up to five positions. By the end of the race, I found I could maintain a position in the top ten without too much work.

Jude and Dwaine flying the Fell Swoop colors midway through the criterium. Photo courtesy Mark Alan.

What I wasn't doing was racing to win. At the pointy end, strong riders were pushing the pace on the prime laps while I hung on. One of my most rewarding moments was during the run into a prime. I was fifth wheel and had no ambitions for the prime sprint. The rider behind me, GC leader DJ, followed me down the hill. He did have ambitions, and I could hear him coaching and praying 'no brakes' as we approached the fast corner four. He didn't know I hadn't touched brakes for that corner all day. I stuck the corner, emerged tight on the rider in fourth, and DJ was free to rocket up the inside towards yet another prime.

The race wasn't easy. I averaged 297 watts. But it wasn't so hard that I stopped thinking. As we took the last lap bell; I sidled up to Jude, gave him a look, and pedaled forward. He got on my wheel, and I went to work moving him up. We climbed for the final time taking back a position or two. On the back straight, I metered my effort to get us moving up the inside checking my shoulder to make sure he was still on. Halfway down the back straight, I made a poor choice and got myself boxed in. I had to let off the pedals and Jude had no choice but to switch to a better wheel. Damn! Mission failed.

Fortunately, Jude was able to work his way forward and bring home a 3rd maintaining his chances for a GC podium. I was scored 8th. Eleven 50+ racers remained in the lead pack.

The feelings of relief were evident on my face. The team was there to congratulate me for finishing my first crit (and tell me I did OK for a newbie). After taking a few minutes to savor the moment, I changed clothes and retrieved my recovery food. I found a seat in the sun and jotted down a few notes for this race recap. Then, Z-dog informed me he had something for me. I expected a critique of my crit performance or nugget of crit knowledge. Instead, he slipped an ice cold Bodhizafa IPA out out his bag and into my hand. This made my day. Thanks Z-Dog.

With the peak stress of the weekend behind me, I was able to relax and enjoy the remainder of the criterium. We cheered for fellow Fell Swoopers who rode in later races. We had a quick bite at a pub just uphill from that fast corner four. We marveled at just how fast some of the elite riders sped by, and we felt the descent of a noticeable chill in the air. With the help of many hands, we disassembled the team tent and headed back to the rental house for more story telling and some well earned rest.


Stage Four - Plain Road Race - 50 miles

Sunday morning dawned cool and dry and filled with surprises. Jonas was up early to catch his nine something start time. The rest of us had a leisurely morning. We sipped on coffee, watched the final kilometers of a stage of the Giro, and slowly tidied up the rental house. We also discussed some race tactics.

We determined DJ was uncatchable. The next four riders were all within a minute on GC including Jude. Our plan was to control the race, protect Jude, and let his legs do some talking on the final climb to the finish line. These team tactics trumped some of my process goals. The one goal that was still relevant was to attempt to assess the strengths and ambitions of other riders in real time.

My vintage Vanagon gave us a bit of a scare as we were about to get under way. The alternator light was flickering. This could not be ignored. I asked the guys to wait until I knew more. As soon as I opened the engine compartment, Jason miraculously spotted a loose connector. I was able to snug it up, and the problem was solved.

When the Vanagon arrived in the tiny community of Plain, another surprise was revealed - falling snow. Snow did not correlate to the forecast for 50 degrees and a 20% chance of precipitation. I added more layers. After warming up, I went back to the van and added another.

The course was mostly flat except for the hill climb finish. It consisted of two laps over a 25 mile course. The course had a small rise just a few miles into the lap. We contemplated that the field might split on that first rise and prepared ourselves for an early effort.

We started with just 25 riders, fifteen from the 50+ field and just ten from the 60+ field. A top five contender in the 50+ field had retired, so Jude faced just two other riders that were close enough for a GC podium.

The first climb was taken at a moderate pace and the field stayed together.

For the next 45 minutes, the pace was up and down but never hard enough to crack the field. There was tension in the peloton. It seemed to me that DJ was itching to put out some watts. Every smart rider knew getting into a break with DJ was a ticket to the GC podium. Smart riders also knew any break without Jude would feel the weight of five Fell Swoop jerseys pulling it back.

At about the twenty mile mark, Z-Dog pulled a feather out of his cap. The pace was slow, and he broke out of the field. I heard someone say 'Yeah Z'. I smiled. Then a voice said 'let him go'. No one reacted. Until someone did. DJ launched out of the pack and bridged up to Z-Dog. They rode away. All the Swoopers knew the deal was done. By drawing DJ out of the peloton, Z-Dog virtually guaranteed there would be no more serious break attempts. The pace steadied and Fell Swoop took control of the peloton.

At the start of the second lap, the peloton passed Z-Dog on the small climb. Each Swooper thanked him on the way by. He had burnt a bunch of matches helping DJ get away. Z-Dog was exhausted and frozen and retired not long after.

The weather started to catch up with me on the second lap. The snow and hail flurries continued on and off. When the road was wet, my face endured a shower of road water spray. I was dressed for a dryish 45 degree day on a wettish 40 degree day. When the pace was slow, I could feel the ice water creeping in. Each surge of speed slightly warmed my insides, but it was never enough to completely push back the chill.

Fell Swoop continued to control the peloton. Sunday continued to offer surprises.

At about seven miles to go, we were dealt a hay maker. The follow car pulled alongside to inform the peloton that the race would finish on the flats without the hill climb finish. There would be no chance for Jude to out climb his rivals. Darn.

We still had four Swoopers, and we re-organized for a lead out and sprint finish. We did not know the location of the finish line.  As we neared Plain, I warned 'we are running out of runway'; and we started to assemble our train. Matt would light the fire, I would follow, and Jude would finish it.

There was no '1 kilometer to go' sign. The pace started to quicken as we passed through Plain. The highway bent left, but we were directed straight and onto Camp 12 road. It didn't stay straight all that far, and we pulled the trigger without knowing where the line was. Dutton pulled hard all the way to the first bend, and I took over. The road pitched up, and I was spent within fifteen seconds. Riders started coming around me. Then, we heard yelling and a car horn and more yelling from behind.

We had passed the finish line some time earlier and didn't know it. I was deflated. I felt that the Fell Swoop team did everything in it's power to put Jude on the podium. I felt like our moment to shine was stolen. I shared my sentiments with my teammates.

The final stage didn't end as planned. All finishers in the peloton were given equal time and Jude retained third on GC. I wobbled and shivered back to the Vanagon happy to be out of the wind and out of my soaked kit. I said my goodbyes and was behind the wheel heading home and eating left over pizza within the hour.

Sunday's final surprise was positive. When I arrived at home, I learned that the promoter did have a finish line. The promoter did award finish positions for the stage. While I may never know where that finish line was, my aggressive positioning landed me a third for the stage. And my first USA Cycling upgrade points. Jude sent me a message that he had picked up my podium prize: a six pack of beer. And Jonas, whom I will quote, sent "Nice job getting an accidental 3rd!" It was a crazy cap to a busy weekend of racing.

Epilogue

It took me 48 hours to decompress from an overwhelming weekend of racing. I participated in three new-to-me disciplines. I learned more about myself as a bike racer. I spent time with the team. I survived my first criterium.

My most impactful take away is that I am now an 'amateur bicycle road racer'. Four stages over three days and three disciplines means I'm no longer just a dirt racer looking in. I'm bonafide. Even if only in my own mind's eye.

The best part of the weekend was being accepted into the team. Gone are the feelings of being 'that gravel guy'. We shared a house. We shared the work. We shared the fun. My legs worked well on the road and that was because of the help I received from my teammates going into all four events. A few shout-outs:

Matt - I parked next to Matt before the first road race. I was freaking out inside, and he gave me the gentle guidance and assurance I needed to unrev my stress motor. He also had the generosity to lead me out for my first ever top ten.

Jason - Quiet, calm, collected. I was taking cues from my teammates. Jason's mellow demeanor reminded me in real time that we are racing for fun not paychecks. Plus... he troubleshot the Vanagon charging system issue in under thirty seconds!

Jonas - He cooked for everyone. He shared thoughts on nutrition. He offered to help me with details of my training. And he reminded me before every event that I would be OK.

Z-Dog - His favorite discipline is the criterium, and I leaned heavily on him for crit guidance. He gave me everything I needed and more to get me there, get me through, and keep me out of trouble. And, of course, that cold beer.

Jude - Despite his modesty Jude knows a thing or two about bike racing. His wisdom was appreciated. It boosted my confidence by no small amount when he trusted me enough to take my wheel when it mattered.

I'm proud to have ridden as a member of Fell Swoop. I'm proud we participated in Tour de Bloom as a team. I'm proud that we donned the Fell Swoop kit and demonstrated teamwork on the road. Did we win on GC? No. Did we have fun? Yes. Did we make a positive impression? Fer Sure.