I just finished the 2004 Tour de Toona, which is in Altoona, Pennsylvania. This is the part of the country with BIG hills. Toona is a very competitive race, even for Cat 4s. The pros race for 7 days, everyone else has a 3-day points race (ie, points down to 15th place for the first 2 stages, and 12th for the 3rd; no GC timing taken). It's incredibly well organized, and the prize list is big. It pays pretty well even for the 4s. Total of 4 people from the Velo Club (my team in Michigan) went.

STAGE RACE

Stage 1 was not great. We got in around midnight (7 hour drive), and we had to race at 8:30 under threatening skies. The course was very Michigan-ish - full of rolling hills that skinny people like me can't quite break away on because they catch us on the downhills. The entire pack was a bit nervous; people bumped, a few crashed, a couple lost chains going up some of the steeper climbs. I hit someone's rear wheel and nearly lost it - not enough sleep! no breaks stuck. The finish is pretty technical, and the course was wet from rain the night before. There's a hard left turn with a steep climb leading into town, and you had to enter town at the front of the pack and hit the climb hard in order to get a good placing. I'd originally figured on only contending for the mountain stage, and I wasn't feeling too hot on the climbs out on the main part of the stage, but once I hit that turn, I figured that I'd give it a shot, and if I placed at all I'd try to contend for GC. I sprinted up the climb and surged into town. There was a chicane turn shortly after that climb, and people lost it on each of the turns. I got spooked, which might have cost me a couple of places. I got on someone's wheel leading into the finishing straight, and sprinted past. Got 14th for 2 points (they give points 15 deep). Could have been better, but considering that we hadn't got enough rest, I was satisfied.

The next stage was the killer: climb up Horseshoe Curve mountain, descend into town, do the mountain again, descend into town again for the nice, long, wide, finishing straight. hints: unless you climb Alpe d'Huez with the lead group, you want a 25. I came in with a 25, and I'll look into getting a 27 or lower next year. The initial climbs leading to the K/QOM line were doable, but they were still like nothing you'll ever find in Michigan. The K/QOM line is up the worst bit of the mountain. I was standing and mashing my 25, and going at 6 mph and nearly maximum heart rate. I figured that if it didn't look like I was going to get at least 3rd for the KOM (they only took the results of one KOM "sprint", on the first time up the mountain), I'd forget it entirely and concentrate on the finish. People started dropping off well before the KOM line, but I held my place in the front group, about 6 wheels back. Two people went at about 1km to the KOM line. I went after them, and someone went behind me. That was the worst climb ever. I was at nearly max heart rate and barely moving. The guy who started behind me passed me, and then I passed another guy. I sensed that I could maybe get second, but I missed by a wheel. We regrouped after the KOM sprint - if you call walking pace a sprint. there's a flat section at the top, followed by a pretty straightforward descent. Susan said not to hit the brakes and just go down it. We hammered on the flat, and by then there were about 30-40 riders in the front group (100 started). We all stuck together on the descent, and then began tackling the climbs again. I stuck to the front of the group. I know a few people dropped off. One guy soloed off near the KOM line. I tried to help chase him, but all I managed to do was gap everyone else. About 15-20 riders made it to the top together, with one man off the front. We organized the chase on the flat, into the wind, but he had a minute on us. He held us off throughout the descent, and most of the way into town. Once we got him back in sight, though, he was done. That was a damn gutsy move, and he won at least a moral victory, but we reeled him in. the sprint into town was ferocious. I didn't look but we must have been going near 30. I just tried to stay to the front but in the pack, since I'd taken some pulls trying to bring our breakaway back. I was about 8th wheel when we were on the finishing straight - it was about 12 blocks to the finish from there. No skittishness here, everyone in that group knew what they were doing. Roland Haarbink of Squadra Coppi - one of the biggest teams along with NCVC in the men's 4 race - went off the front with 800 meters to go, and he held the pack off. he deserved to. I got to the very front, and sprinted in for 5th, just behind David Barr of ADA (who did pretty well in our state RR, and was working pretty hard at the front as well). I ended in 9th place on GC, and 3rd on the KOM classification. That doesn't count towards your GC, but the prize money is still quite a bit (get second or third and you have paid for most of your entry fee already). Pretty good day.

CRITERIUM

For the criterium, the forecast said storms, and I figured that if I could get at least 1 point in 12th place (points go 12 deep in the crit), I'd keep my 9th place on GC. There was a shower before our start, and the roads were pretty slippery. There were nearly 100 riders in the cat 3 men's field, and lots of them went down even though their race was dry. There are two pretty hairy corners in the crit, and the locals thoroughly hay-baled one in anticipation of the carnage. For our race, I lined up at the very front, figuring that I'd help string the pack out. Some idiot barged up to me, and it turned out to be one of the guys from Squadra Coppi that I'd gotten to know at our hostel. He said that his plan was to attack hard from the gun and get things strung out a bit -perfect. I pretty much figured that Dave Barr would come along for that move. Sure enough, our Coppi friend went like a rabbit. I was right behind him, and we got a gap on the field pretty fast. I think they caught up to us at one point, but we definitely had a gap after 4 laps.

There’s a small hill after the first turn, and I took to the front there. David Barr was there, and I knew the race leader was there too - they give leaders' and KOM jerseys. I led the way down the back straight into the first chicane turn. There was a lot of rough pavement going in. I heard a crash, didn't look back as I took the next two turns, and then I heard another crash as I cleared the next chicane leading into the finishing straight. I looked back and saw absolutely no one behind me. I waited for someone to bridge up to me - I wasn't about to do 15 laps all by myself. I cleared the finishing straight, took the first turn, went up the hill, and then turned onto the back straight. At the top of the back straight, just before the descent leading into the first chicane, I saw the peloton just clearing the second turn onto the back straight. I figured I'd just ride tempo and see what happened. When you have that kind of gap, you're morally obligated to do something about it. The announcer started mispronouncing my name (he at least got the club right). Spectators started yelling. One guy on the back straight started giving me time checks. When I heard something like 60 seconds, I figured I'd give it a shot. Good publicity for the team, at the very least. I was wrong - he was yelling SIXTEEN seconds, and I only realized that with less than 10 laps to go. But it seemed the gap was holding constant, and I knew that everyone's legs were shot after 3 days of racing, plus I was taking the corners very well. A lot of people in the pack ended up crashing - I had figured that if you didn't take the turns single file, there would be carnage. I thought that if I could hold that gap, they might give up. They didn't quite give up, but I actually held that gap most of the race. The spectators were yelling furiously. The announcer said something about him not being sure if I could make it, but that I definitely deserved to win the race. I pedaled harder and stayed in my aero position longer. 5 to go, and I wondered if I could actually win it - I started thinking that if I could, this would be the ride of my life. The pack was starting to close on me, though, and with 2 to go, they were nearly on me, except that I still held the gap. I'm informed that at that point, people started looking at each other wondering who was going to work. I snuck a glance in the last lap, and I could see them. Someone tried to bridge up to me then. I hit the finishing straight, and the crowd started screaming. The guy who tried to bridge drew up alongside me, just half a wheel behind me. We hit the slight rise leading up to the finish. I stood and gave it everything I had, and left him behind.