Tulsa was tough

Tulsa came and went with no real surprises. The races had big money, lots of teams, and were hard. No one really did better than expected, or worse, for that matter. I placed 25th, 18th, and 29th in the three crits, in that order. I was pretty disappointed with how I finished and wanted to do a little better, but I guess that's part of bike racing; you get beat by people that are faster than you. For whatever reason, I just felt sketchy and not confident in the first two days and then in the third race when I was actually feeling pretty good each time we crested the steep hill, I just lost my legs (and my position went with it) in the last couple laps.

The third race (Sunday) does deserve a little talking about, however, because it was quite a spectacle. It was a river-front course that looped a block inland into a neighborhood every lap. Turning off of the riverfront immediately took riders up a short, steep hill that lead to another right turn. The steep grade of the hill continued through the corner and onto the backside of the course for another block or so. It was a real leg buster, but what made the hill bearable was the incredible fans lining the street on that hill. It was an absolute scorcher of a day (like 92 degrees or something) and despite the fact that the race started at 3 pm (a little early to be drinking, in my opinion) there was a full fledged party going on on this hill on the backside of the course. Someone had a band in their front yard, many were stripped down to just bathing suits in an effort to stay cool, there was beer everywhere, and the majority of the crowd was standing in the street cheering their brains out, only leaving a gap that might have been just wide enough for a small car to squeeze through very cautiously. Every fan was also armed with water. Whether it was plastic bottle feeds for us to dump over our heads, garden hoses, or squirt guns, it seemed like everyone had some form of water. Once I got over the initial shock of being nailed in the face by one stream of water or another every lap, I started to look forward to the cooling sensation it provided. Basically, it felt like we were reenacting a very short segment of a grand tour climb over and over again in the midst of this criterium. The fact that once and a while I would glance over and see Floyd Landis riding next to me even seemed furthered the reality of my imaginary Tour experience.