Robert Winder

you’re too close to the back.

The story of the P12 race at the Giro is of fables, lore and handed down through the generations.

Having already done the 24 lap M35+ 123 race I decided to race again, must’ve been the great atmosphere, organisation, being downtown, oh and not being able to get home because the bridge was closed. 55 laps, how hard can it be?

Well there was a race going on, but I was too far away from the front to really know much about it. I spent the first 10 laps getting into the swing and getting my legs warmed up, the next 10 laps felt like 20 and by the time Casey called out 25 to go I was ready to climb off. Y’see I’d been moving up each lap from the last 3rd to the front, I arrived in the top 10 and was feeling punch drunk when I over shot the corner from Front onto Vallejo and with tires rubbing on the kerb I had to un-clip and put my foot down before it was too late. I managed to get back in the field before the top of Vallejo.

Wait, 25 to go? Thats still longer than the geezers race I did earlier and I’ve already raced more than half the distance. Time to eat to take that increasingly sharp pain in my legs away. Ever tried eating through a straw when your face won’t move and your lips won’t close? It took me about 4 laps to eat and drink, something that by the end of the race I’d gotten the hang of.

With about 19 to go I started feeling the cramping sensation every time up Vallejo and was pretty sure it was just a matter of time before the day came to an end. Somehow, seeing through cross-eyes and going from memory I hung onto the group and moved up some to finish in the middle of the field.

Like I said, this was a story of fables, lore and stories handed down through the generations, or at least thats how it’ll be remember by DHolla and family. What a stupidly fast race that took my eyes two hours to un-cross themselves and my ears to stop hearing that damn motorbike behind me.