So I went to ride in the local crit series to try to enhance my mountain bike training. Anybody that's spent any time around bike racing knows that are only 2 types of criterium racers. Those who have crashed, and those who will crash soon. They're a full on violent assault on the heart rate anywhere from 20 min to an hour depending on what class you race. Literally, if you don't spend much of the crit in your red zone, you'll get dropped. I.e., great training for mtb racing. It's like group intensity work, or so that's how I looked at it.Well, as it turns out the last crit of the series we had like 6 of the guys from the MTB team show. So...all hyped up with adrenaline, endorphines, testosterone, and whatever other performance and mood enhancing naturally occuring drugs we had running through our veins we decided to try some group tactics. Realistically, Clayton or Wes Pruitt would have good shots at a win, if not several primes. I was pretty pumped just to be able to call myself a cool word -- Domestique...Admit it, it has a cool ring...
So the strategy was basically every lap or two one of us would attack the field. People would have to respond because even though the other of us (non Clayton & Wes's) weren't the favorites, we still were capable of competing. So one of us would attack causing several of the other strong riders to chase. Then as other strong riders would go to the front of the main group, we'd go to the front, control the pace at a slow enough cadence that it would take more attacks to real in the break away. Essentially we wanted to wear down the fastest guys. Clayton and I actually worked this well the week before and he won several primes with me controlling the pack while he broke away for the goods.
Anyway...About 15 minutes into our race, it was my turn to attack. I started to make my way to the front of the group. Right after we made a lap at the finish line there's a fairly sharp right hand turn. I don't know what happened. I just know my front wheel went airborn and then I was sliding across the pavement. It hurt sooo bad. Jeeze. It happened so fast. I don't know if I hit a rock, road paint, just slid out my front wheel, what. I just know my ass was sliding at 25+ mph on asphalt before I even knew what was going on. I lost a lot of hide on one spot on the back of my arm and on my hip. Several weeks of healing required.Moral of the story: even when I "think" I know what I'm doing on a road bike, I don't. Stick to mountain bikes. The crashes are much lower speed, and typically are avoidable, unlike this beauty.
