After a mediocre time trial I was pumped for the Wachusett Mountain stage of the Fitchburg Stage Race, considering this was the only opportunity a rider like me had to make an impact on the race.

No sooner had I rolled out than a small handful of riders and I flatted due to some broken glass that had washed into the road during overnight rain showers. Calm as a cucumber I pulled over for a wheel change and flagged the neutral SRAM support when the weirdest thing happened. The driver took a quick look at me (and the 3 marshals standing nearby who were also waving him down) and he drove off. (!?!?!?)

Well, to make a long story short, I had to wait 20 minutes before the riders made it back around the 11 mile loop. The first car passed and didn't stop. The second car passed and didn't stop. Finally the Cat 2 support car stopped and gave me a wheel change and off I was on the longest ride of my life. For two hours I rode solo just a few minutes off the front of my group, trying like a madman to not get lapped and pulled. I caught and dropped quite a few Cat 2's and 1's along the way and kept trudging on like a man possessed. Knowing that I obviously had no chance in the race overall, I was determined to ride like hell to make the time cut, and if I didn't make the time cut I could always protest having to wait 25 minutes for a wheel change.

After spending the whole day alone time trialing over one of the hardest courses in the northeast, I was caught by the pack on the final climb. I floated to the back of the pack and explained my situation to the official who informed me that I could lodge a protest, but first I needed to finish the stage. "Oh, can I finish on this lap?" "No, you have to take another lap to make up the difference." Great. Freakin' great.

So after a dozen more miles I finished up, lodged my protest, and was told that I could start the next day, but I would be given the last possible time, putting me in the lantern rouge spot.

My experience has taught me that it's infinitely harder to muster the will to finish dead last than it is to win a race. I feel like I really learned what it means to suffer for hours just to be able to start the next day. It's also amazing how quickly you learn to rearrange your priorities for a race based on whatever crappy luck comes your way. As infuriating, chaotic, and utterly depressing as it was I wouldn't trade the lessons learned (and the good training miles) for anything.