Mystery of the Missing Keys

The crowd watches the men race by.

The crowd watches the men race by.

Before the excitement begins, I’d like to recognize a few people.  I’d like to thank Bill Dron for allowing me to use his awesome and fast carbon bontrager wheel set for the Mayor’s Cup, Saturday. I’d also like to thank Rob Orange and the announcers at the Vermont cross race for helping me locate my missing car keys and jacket.  Thank you also to Jesse Keough for lending me his jacket while I was looking for mine. Thank you all for all your help!!

Now to the story…

After an eventful weekendof spinning around the historic downtown Boston, with thousands of spectators on Saturday, and a 4-hour, rainy drive to northern Vermont on Sunday, my brain is mush.  The entire weekend was off the excitement charts as I not only competed in the Mayors Cup, but witnessed my University of Wyoming teammate and friend, Clayton Barrows take home over $4,000 in primes and placing 3rd overall in the prestigious crit.  After the excitement from Saturday, I traveled all the way to northern Vermont to compete against some of the most elite cross racers, only to discover missing keys and the need to work on my ‘mad mud skills’.

Clayton arrived on Friday.  He drove up from Pennsylvania with a sleeping bag and mattress pad in hand, and slept on our hard-wood floor.  Aaron had to work Saturday, so I bummed a ride with Clayton and his teammate Mike, in the Empire Cycling van.  As we entered the city, we immediately found difficulty parking, as the streets were blocked off for the race.  Every minute my stomach turned in knots for the approaching race; I was losing warm-up time.  As the guys were talking to the traffic cops about parking, I bolted out of the van with my bag, and bike.  “Wait, wait wait mam!!”  he yelled.  “I’ll be only two seconds!”Boston crit 3

I approached the city hall.  Music was blaring and hundreds, maybe thousands of spectators were walking around, excitement building for the upcoming events.  After I quickly checked in and chamoised up, the course closed, and there was nowhere to get in a good warm-up.  I spun around the plaza and soon we were staging.  Tina Pic was retiring after the race, so this was a special event for the world-class and decorated sprinter.  The announcer did the call-ups.  The streets were jam packed.  Every inch of the barriers was covered from the masses.   This race had $20,000 in payout including the $8,000 in primes!  I was ready! 

The gun went off and everyone moved to the front.  Lap after lap, bell after bell.  The primes kept the race going. I found myself constantly trying to move up to the front as the peleton pushed forward.  The bells became a blur.  After 20 minutes into the 60 minute crit, my legs finally warmed up and I moved to the front.  Another bell.  I jumped off the front, but too soon and too hesitant.  They were on my wheel instantly. I tucked in.  Tina was moving up the left side.  I grabbed her wheel.  The corners were so tight and the further back you were, the more you’d have to jump on your pedals, out of the turn, to hang on to the pack.  People were falling off the back.  Laura Van Guilder attacked after the line and I grabbed her wheel, right around the corner, and prayed I wouldn’t hit the barriers as we took it at such high speed. ”Just look ahead,” I thought as my adrenalin was rushing through my blood.  The 10 laps to go card was up and the race became more heated.  It became harder to stay at the front as teams were moving up.  Colivita kept attacking to keep the pace high and set-up the sprint for Tina.  Two laps to go and my lungs felt like burning embers.  One lap.  I was too far back to make up the placing. The sprint started with half a lap as Colavita initiated the attack.  I was at the back of the peleton and finished 34th, passing the girls who’d blown-up from setting their teammate Tina Pic up for the very last win of her professional career. 

Clayton takes a pull at the front of the break.

Clayton takes a pull at the front of the break.

Immediately I changed and walked around the square to watch the most exciting crit in my cycling career.  Clayton was racing with the elite men.  From the gun, Clayton established himself as the leader of the race, staying within the top 5 wheels.  He went for prime after prime and began to pull in the cash.  The crowd was wild and people kept pouring in from the city to watch the race. With 30 minutes left in their race, a break of 7 people formed with Clayton on the 2nd wheel.  “Go Barrows!” The announcer was going crazy, “Will they hold their lead…someone in this group will win!”  As the peleton slowed, the break increased its lead.  Soon, they were over a half a lap ahead.  I crossed my fingers.  “Barrows, you can win!!”  He looked strong, but fatiguing.  With one lap to go, one of the riders attacked….who would win?  As the pace car blew through the line, we saw the riders coming…and there was Clayton in 3rd place!! Clayton came home with over $4,000. His teammate told another racer, “You know…you were beat by a Clydesdale today.” He earned that nickname in college; big guy, lots of horsepower.  He and Aaron celebrated late into the night.  I had one more race to prepare for.

Sunday was ‘cross’ time. I woke up, got my coffee, and drove 4 hours to northern Vermont for an elite UCI race.  It rained the entire drive, but once I arrive to the course, the rain stopped, leaving sticky mud. I parked, locked the car, got my number, and set my jacket, keys, and camera, all rolled up on the bench, where other riders had left their belongings. 

On the road again!

On the road again!

Because I hadn’t done the cross race the day before, I was staged at the very back.  Not ideal for me, but I knew I just needed to blast around to the front.  The whistle blew and we started our four slick, technical, and muddy laps.  Up the hill, around one, two, three riders.  Tight corner…the mud pulls my rear wheel.  Corner, corner, run-up.  More muddy rollers like a bmx course.  I jump off and run as my tires fail to grab the mud.  Back on the bike and to the second half of the course.  A gap has formed between the girl in front of me and the lead girls.  I’m too hesitant on the corners…I should be wiping out if I was going hard enough.  Need to take a chance!  Off the bike and over the barriers.  The riders get more and more stretched out. Another rider and I keep going back and forth throughout the race, I finally pass her on a corner and create distance between us.  I finished 19th out of 30 riders. Need to work on my mad-mud skills!

After the race, the real excitement begins. I returned to the bench where I’d set my belongings.  Nothing.  Gone. I looked around the area. No luck.  A kind woman was sitting nearby, “Are you missing something?”  “My keys and jacket were here.”  “Oh, no!  I saw a team come through and pack up a bunch of things…I think they accidentally grabbed your belongings!”  She remembered who they were, but suspected they’d left already.  We found a man who’d seen them.  He took me to the parking lot and we found a prospective vehicle, Canadian.  I had the announcers putting the word out, “Would a representative from the Canadian team come to the registration tent.  We believe you have the lady’s missing keys. ”  That’s when I met Rob Orange.  He was also Canadian and had a tie to the team.  “Get my blackberry out of my truck and I can call them. I think they’re on their way to Canada already.”  I got the phone and he dialed.  The missing gear had been set back in the staging area.  It’s here!  I was so relieved!  I thought my ride home was on it’s way to Canada.  The camera was still missing so I reported it to the registration table.  “Oh, a camera…got one here!” So, after all that excitement, I came home with everything I had brought…most importantly my own vehicle!

Got my keys...goin' home!

Got my keys...goin' home!

Mystery of the missing keys…solved.

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