What. A freaking. Day.





After my alright results at Greenfield, I was really looking forward to a redemption shot at Gran Prix Beverly. I had won this race last year via a race-long breakaway, and after my breaks didn't stick at Greenfield, I was looking for more.

And it didn't come easy this time.





The race got off to a slow and mostly-cautious start, as the previous rain had made the corners a little slick, resulting in multiple crashes in the first few laps. I did my best to stay at/towards the front of the group in hopes to avoid them, but the first two took place DIRECTLY IN FRONT OF ME. Locking up the brakes (again) was not what I had in mind for 40 minutes.









Going into the closing laps, I knew this race would be decided by a final sprint. I didn't have it in me to try and gap the pack from more than a lap out, and even if I tried, my move would be swiftly covered. I didn't try anything fancy or aggressive, just hanging out in second or third wheel for the last two laps.





With one lap to go, the pack started to wind itself up, even in the chase group. Someone off the back went down into the final corner, causing our lead group to readjust our finish strategies. I was coming into the corner second, but the leader seemed to think that the race would be neutralized, and sat up. I wasn't taking that chance, and gradually ramped up my speed to edge by him down the last straight. No neutralization. With less than 100m to go I actually started my sprint.





(Minuteman guy with his hand up is the guy who sat up)





I had done it. Not only had I finally won a race in a bunch sprint, but I had won Gran Prix of Beverly two years in a row. On a bike with broken shifting. It honestly wasnt until I came out of the last corner that I thought I had a decent chance based on everything that has transpired before the start, but good lord was it an amazing feeling afterwards.









My race prep started two days before, trying to source a new shifter to replace my failing one. I went to every LBS in town and called a couple that I would/could drive to on race day to try and find something suitable but to no avail. Plans then turned to loaning a shifter from a teammate for the race, but travel delays made that unfeasible as well.So here I was, hanging out in the pouring rain in Beverly, with a mostly-assembled bike, trying to put it together in the hours before the race. Splendid.I managed to piece together a mostly-functioning bike (with the help of Look NRS) with just enough time for a one-lap warmup before taking to the line. Not the best start. Unlike last year, I was unable to escape the field very much, only a couple of efforts that lasted for a lap or so before being reeled back in. My lack of warmup and the adverse pre-race situation was hitting me, and I was ever worried that my shifting would fail in some catastrophic way. Unable to really get into a tactical mindset, I had to resort to just drilling it (as usual) and hope for the best.After a while, I realized that we had a break forming. No longer were we a pack of 40, but of 11. I could relax a little bit knowing that even being swallowed by the field would only push me back a handful of places instead of a dozen or more. I was finally able to let others do some of the work, jumping from wheel to wheel among the top-five to save some energy for the finish.