Catching my White Whale

Everyone has their “White Whale” – something that you constantly hunt for but never quite get a hold of; the one that got away, an obsession for which you are willing to throw all caution into the wind to catch; etc. 


For Captain Ahab, it was the white whale Moby Dick:



For the parking officer in Seinfeld, it was Newman and his elusive parking tickets:



For this man, apparently it’s frozen french fries.



For me it was winning a bike race.




Indeed, winning a bike race seemed to be my white whale.  Cat 5 racing produced forgettable results (at the very best).  Cat. 4 racing was a similar experience: fun but it didn’t garnish anything stellar by way of results.  The same held true for racing in D’s and C’s in the ECCC.  Then came the training and the quantum leap of cycling when I jumped up to A’s.


I was stuck at 3rd place.  No matter what I did, I could never edge past that lowest podium spot.  I couldn’t even win a training crit at Wells Ave (stuck at 3rd again)!  By no means was I giving up the hope of trying to win, but (to put it bluntly) it sucked.


Then something simply flipped to “GO” in my brain after Nationals.  My racing tactics were becoming laser-guided.  I was attacking and counter-attacking even in the Pro/1/2/3 fields.  What the flip was I doing, and where did these cojones come from? In the last 2 months, I’ve received countless numbers of “Wait, you’re not a 2 yet?” from people I’ve raced with in collegiate.  Everyone expected more of me, and I think that’s what did it.  The new Voigt-esque racing style was edging me closer and closer, minus a two weeks of being dealt a lot of bad luck (to be covered in a later blog post).  That white whale – everyone knew I was hunting for it; trying to catch it and make it my own.


Then I won a bike race…



It was totally a team effort.  Let me stress again that this was a TEAM EFFORT.  Cripes, it was the biggest team effort a Cat. 3 field has seen all season.  Regardless of how many times I (or any other member of the team, for that matter) attacked the field, bridged, or chased, it was the last 4 miles/2 laps of the race that really shows the team’s valor.  It can easily be summed up in 2.5 words: lead-out train.


When I say “lead-out train” I really mean it.  Believe it or not, the team plan for the day was to get me the win via a lead-out.  Like poetry from the tongue of Shakespeare himself, with two laps to go we were all at the front and formed the paceline whilst Chris reeled the solo man off the front.  After doing so he kept the pace high and stayed on the front, making the lineup (Front to back) Chris, AJ, Sam, Mark, and finally myself.


Chris promptly buried himself for about 1200 m, edging the pace close to 40 mph on the downhill. AJ took over next and kept the pace super high. A car somehow found its way onto the course, and despite pulling the train (and the entire field) along at 30+ mph on a flat AJ somehow sat upright, kept the pace, and yelled and pointed at the car “No! Stop!” as if he were talking down a bad dog. Needless to say, the car listened and the last lap continued. Soon after the right-hand turn with the car AJ blew up. As I was dragged past him by Sam and Mark, I shouted “I love you!” to make sure he knew my appreciation for a job darn well done. Sam took a monster pull and then gave it to Mark, but not before finding some extra super-human strength and hopping in behind Mark for another pull. Mark pulled off just before the last turn into the uphill finish with about 400 m to go. Sam kicked again and I followed. With 200 meters to go I kicked, pulled around Sam, hammered away, and never looked back.




I caught my White Whale last Sunday.  I came out on top, all thanks to the team, and I didn’t have to float back to New Bedford on a piece of shipwreck.  The victory meant quite a bit to me.  In 4 years and 85+ plus races the best I had ever done was 3rd place.  Now I can’t complain anymore.  The big question now is what the next white whale will be.


Be back later…gone whaling.