Vermont- written by Justin Lindine

            One thing I’ve learned from the Sisyphus like endeavor that is bike racing, is that things often don’t really go as you plan.  Most of the time you spend training and racing only to not quite live up to the expectations that you have created in your own mind.  This is called disappointment, and one of bike racings more valuable life-lessons is teaching you how to deal with it.  But every once in a great while you have those moment where everything goes right…where you get to balance the proverbial “rock” on top of the mountain for one moment in time.  Green Mountain cross was a little like that this year. 

Straight off of Vegas I wasn’t super sure what to expect in a race that I’ve really come to like over the years now.  With only one UCI day on Sunday, Sat was a chance for some of us regional riders to stretch our legs without having to chase the likes of famous New England notables around.  So the start grid pretty much looked like a quality Verge field from last year; same game, different day.  Only this time around I raced like I had watched people do in the past.  First it was Jamey Driscoll riding away with each and every race of the Verge Series that he entered, then it was Dan Timmerman.  Both racers took to the front of the race more often than not, and soloed away to commanding wins that were as impressive as they were dominant.  At Green Mtn, for that one day, that’s what I got to feel like as I got on the front just at the end of the first lap and then pulled off a pretty sweet surge away from some of New England’s best elite riders.  It was one of those magical cross races where everything goes smooth…without mistakes or incidents and I just rode my own race in my own little world…a bubble of quiet that I tried to keep going as the race progressed and the thought that maybe I would pull it off started to creep in.  Crossing the line was a relief…like I had just done something I knew I should be capable of but hadn’t really done yet.  The trick would be if I could pull off something the next day too against a more star studded field.

            True to the rumors, Sunday brought more horsepower to the race with Powers, Driscoll, Frenchman Bazin and Dane Parbo all in attendance in addition to all the local strongmen.  The start was fast and furious and as so often happens the split between the “pros” and the rest of us was opening up before the first lap was even through.  The thing was, I was going to ride across to that group.  I was right there, just a few seconds to bridge, already separated from the riders behind me.  And then, I clipped a pedal while sprinting around an uphill turn, popped out of my pedals and surfed the top-tube for a few seconds until I could get my feet back in…only to find that my chain was off.  Panic shifting didn’t seem to be helping and I lost all my momentum before I hopped off and put the chain back on while running.  Now back in the teens-to twenties I had that moment where you just sort of want to say f-it and call it a day.  But I remembered yesterday and everything that had been awesome about that feeling and the way I rode and pulled it back together to chase my way back through the field and start again to bridge up to the lead group.  Only now the gap was like 20-30 seconds and it took me an entire lap to get across…the lesson being that it’s a lot easier to do things right the first time. 

Once I got there I didn’t want to just be a hanger on.  When Driscoll attacked I tried to cover it and did for a little bit before I got popped off and reabsorbed by Powers and Bazin.  After that it was largely collaboration from Powers and I to bring Driscoll back…smart on my part?  Probably not considering the company I was with, but not knowing Bazin at all it seemed as though he was on the edge of popping so I gambled.  I should have learned from my unsuccessful gambling run in Vegas that this was going to fail, as Bazin dropped a bomb of an attack on the final lap that saw all four of us separated by nominal gaps trying to chase him down.  I made contact with Driscoll in the final corner, but it was too much to get by him in the charge to the line. 

            While it was disappointing to be one place off the podium after standing on the top step the day before, it was also the first time I’d put myself into the lead group and tried racing for the win in that kind of company.  I’d also managed to rally the mental part of the game to get it back together just when it was all going wrong.  Of course it was going wrong because I had screwed up in the first place, so as I was saying at the beginning of all of this…success in bike racing seems to always be tempered with large amounts of humility….but also hope, or I wouldn’t be there next weekend trying to do everything right, again.