Jen Zeuli and Kate Leppanen went to Connecticut last Saturday to race the Twilight Crit to benefit Cystic Fibrosis. The rain held off and they got in a good race. Here is what Jen had to say about how the race played out.
The Twilight Crit: Why It Pays To Be A Parasite
By Jen ZeuliMy goal in this race: a pack finish, something to offset my less-than-stellar 27th place (out of 30) at Sterling back in May. But I tried to be realistic; just staying upright would be an improvement. The field was small, only nine women, which made me less nervous, but it was a combination 3/4 race, which made me more nervous. There wouldn’t be enough of us to split into two groups, I reasoned. The threes would set the pace and I would just have to try to hold on.
I’d never set foot on a Nascar track before, so warmup consisted of me testing out the banked turns and fighting off the usual pre-race why-am-I-doing-this jitters. As we lined up, Kate told me, “Stay upright, and stay on my wheel unless you can find something better.” Okay. A strategy. The bell rang and we were off on our first of twenty-five laps.
Immediately things were more organized than I’d expected. There were two women from CVC who were working really well together, and people were generally in neat, reasonably civil lines. I was clinging to Kate, as instructed. We did things I would never have done if left to my own devices. She’d suddenly break off from a formerly steady pace to surge ahead. She’d shoot through gaps that didn’t look like gaps at all, not to me. She’d ride so close to the edge of the track that I was absolutely certain we’d both skid off. Watching her at one point, early on, I thought, “I can’t do that!” Then I switched that part of my brain off and concentrated on defending her wheel.
Around and around we went. There were three primes; I only vaguely remember two of them and was entirely unaware of the third. Kate pulled a lot. I hardly pulled at all. No one was pushing me to take a turn because my teammate was doing so much work. At some point a break formed; we chased them but didn’t quite catch them. But I was feeling good, really good. The pace was fine, and unlike my three earlier races, at no point did I want to die. It occurred to me vaguely, while fighting a girl with a Salem jersey off of Kate’s wheel, that I was having a positive experience.
We entered the final lap. Four women in the break were about a quarter-lap ahead of us. Kate was pulling the main pack, and I was happily riding along behind her, basking in my immanent victory. The glorious pack finish was almost mine. Then I looked at the break up ahead, and out of nowhere a thought popped into my head: I can totally get there. So I pulled around Kate and sprinted towards them. I honestly thought I was helping; Kate was probably tired, and I assumed she’d jump on my wheel. But when I reached the break and glanced back, no one at all was behind me. Strange. But there was no time to contemplate it; this group was really moving. I stayed right with them, and finished fifth. I couldn’t even believe it.
Talk about teamwork. Turns out, no one chased me in the final lap because when I sprinted for the break, Kate sat up, slowed down, and blocked for me. So I’d stayed upright, I’d exceeded my pack-finish ambitions, and I’d actually had a good time. My new goal: learn to reciprocate.
