Today I raced the Camp Pendleton Bulldog Bike Race. It’s a 26 mile road race on the Camp Pendleton military base. It goes out, does a little climb, then comes back. This was my first road race, and it was both nerve-rattling and fun.

I competed in my age group, men aged 35-39. They sent all of us off in waves: the first wave was men aged up to 29, then my wave, then a bunch of others. Each wave was staggered by 10 minutes.

We set off under a controlled, rolling start. The rule was not to pass while the pace truck ahead shepherded us onto Las Pulgas Road. A couple of guys took the opportunity to race to the front, but whatever. The pace truck pulled off, and we were off. Not really. We were doing a really leisurely pace, under 20 mph, and I knew we had to kick it up a little to be competitive. I was at the right of the peloton and found my way up to the front and picked up the pace for a half mile or so. Someone had to take charge and set tempo, right?

The peloton eventually enveloped me, and I learned how hard it is to merge back into it. No one wants to let you in, and it’s easy to drop to the back. I fought my way on the right side of the peloton without much draft but tried to stay toward the front.

Soon we came upon a quick left turn. I was at the right and learned why being on the outside of a turn is not the best place to be. I found a good line through the turn but someone on the inside must have misjudged their speed because he came careering toward me, pushing me toward the outside and within millimeters of the curb. I think it freaked out some guys behind me because I heard some exhortations of imminent catastrophe; I really dodged a bullet on that one.

The peloton kind of settled down after that, but we all knew that the hill was coming up and that would separate the men from the boys. I saw two guys attack a little while before the hill and I went with them, but we were brought back just before the left turn into the hill. And once again, I was at the right side of the peloton for the turn, and I lost a bunch of positions just trying to make it through without touching wheels.

The hill began, and chaos ensued. There were traffic cones in the middle of the road to keep us to the right, but some were toppled and provided opportunities for evasive maneuvering. We were too wide for our lane and everyone was doing a different speed, making for some crazy riding. A guy in front of me almost lost it, going sideways but saving it. I heard some bad noises behind me which might have been a crash or maybe just someone going off the road. Every time I saw an opportunity to get around someone, another guy was next to me and not letting me by. I saw the peloton breaking in two, and unfortunately I was stuck at the back of the grupetto.

I got to the left and to the front of the grupetto and tried to bridge to the main peloton. But by then the hill was almost done. I wish the hill had been longer because I totally could have made it back to the peloton. But the hill ran out and I was now descending on my own, trying to make it up to a couple of other stragglers ahead of me.

I wasn’t making any time but fortunately for me, a group of three guys passed me and I knew this was my opportunity to get some positions back. I got on their wheel and soon we picked up the two guys in front of us.

It occurred to me that this is like planet-building: each rider has his own gravity, and as riders pass each other, the passed rider clings onto the others’ wheels, gradually forming more mass.

We were unorganized at first. I was wary of my experience in the peloton, with guys not letting me in, and I fought for position behind the two leaders’ wheels. Looking back, this was really bad etiquette since I ended up next to a guy for a while and neither of us were getting the benefit of the draft; I heard one guy say something to the point of “are we doing a single or double line?”

Eventually we became more organized with guys doing pulls at the front then dropping for the next guy to pull. We were doing a good 26+ mph by my computer.

It came my turn to pull and and I did my best, though I slowed to 23 mph up a small hill. There was another group of three riders that I was trying to reel in, and eventually they merged with us and I dropped to the rear, pretty well tired from the pull.

By now we were within a couple of miles from the end and I was happy that I contributed to the group but a little disappointed that I was tired and wouldn’t have much left for the last sprint.

But then I noticed that our group was splitting, and I put on the gas to bridge up to the front.

The last final left turn came up, and I was just at the back of the front group. I got out of the saddle to sprint through the finish line and passed the last guy by surprise. He saw me coming at the last few yards but either didn’t have the legs or the will to give a meaningful challenge.

As I recovered at the end, I realized that I hadn’t stopped my bike computer during the final “walk your bike through the end” part. But it showed a time of a little over and hour and fourteen minutes which made me really happy since I thought that anything under and hour and fifteen was really competitive.

I stayed at the finish line, cheering on other riders* and soon some official results came out.

My time was 01:12:00, 9th place in the civilian** men aged 35-39. A top ten finish in my first race!

EDIT: The final standings are in, and I lost a position (or maybe I read the sheet wrong at the event). Still top 10 and I think a reasonable time for a first effort.
Bulldog Bike Race final standings

Also the results tell me what happened to the peloton. I didn’t understand how I could be in the top 10 when the peloton had drifted away up the hill. I had originally thought that the first wave included men aged 30-34 but they were in my wave, so a lot of those guys must have been in the peloton but weren’t classed with me. So I actually finished in 20th place in my wave of 64 riders.

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* I can’t tell you how amazing it feels to have people cheering you on. Even the military folks who were on the course to tell us where to go were hooting and hollering, and it was really cool. Crossing the finish line with cowbells and clapping and whistles and shouting is indescribably awesome.

** This race pits civilians vs. military, don’t ask me why. So I was probably more like a top 20 than top 10.

This entry was posted on Saturday, February 28th, 2009 at 15:08 and is filed under Cycling. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.