By Jim Mansoor
There is nothing more satisfying in bike racing than the solo victory. In Europe, a break-away victory in one of the Spring classics or Summer stage races elevates you to the status of a God. And rightfully so: there is the initial attack off the front, often times followed by multiple counter attacks so that you ride clear of the peleton. If you are alone, its you against your pursuers, except that you are taking the wind the entire way in the hardest time trial of your life. If you break away with others, the chess game of bike racing is not over yet, as you eventually want to ride clear of them to get the solo victory. And usually the solo breakaway gets caught, the rider being swallowed up by the hungry pack, his or her moment of glory over. Then the 'should have, would have, could have' questions start: should I have stayed with the pack and attacked later? Tried to attack with others? Stayed with the pack and hoped for a sprint finish? The question I ask, however, is this: is the solo breakaway the smartest racing strategy?
Here's why I ask this question: last year I had some good results in road races by staying with the main pack until it got whittled down to a few survivors. When people went off the front in solo attempts, they were usually left alone and got swallowed up by the pack later. If there was a sprint finish, I always liked my chances. It was a conservative style that gave me a number of top 10 finishes. There was, however, a Masters rider that I feared and admired: Glen Winkle. Most racers know the name. Multiple District and National masters championships in both road and criterium racing. Most of us have been beaten by Glen at one time or another, and usually multiple times. Glen likes to win races by attacking so often that eventually he breaks away either alone or with others and usually he ends up on the winning end of the break. I always wanted to attack like Glen and break away instead of playing it safe in a race and letting attrition take its course. So this year I decided that one of my goals would be to attack and try to win races solo or go down in flames.
Last week was the Carson Valley Classic Road Race, a race that was designated as the USCF District Championships. After 3 of 4 laps the race still had 15 riders in the lead group, the climbers in the race not being able to drop the non-climbers on the short 1 mile climb. At this point I thought that I could probably do fairly well in a field sprint and bag a top 6 spot. But a voice said attack, and so I did. I attacked through the feed zone but got caught. Down a fast section another rider attacked with me on his wheel, but we did not get away. He attacked again and this time the group let him go, including me. Once he was clear by a few hundred meters, I attacked the main pack to bridge. I bridged and we worked together for a mile or two. We hit the hill and I ramped up the pace and dropped him. I was now solo with the pack of 15 chasing me up the hill. I made it over the hill and onto a slightly flat downhill section, about 15 km to the finish. I did my best imitation of a time-trialist and thought this might be my solo victory. But I was wrong. About 5 km from the finish I hit the wall of wind that dominates Carson Valley. I got swallowed up with about 3 km to the line and ended up 11th after the field sprint.
Contrast this race with a race 2 weeks later, the NCNCA District Championships at Fort Ord. I played it safe, working to bring back attacks, letting the race cause attrition. The race came down to a field sprint of 11 and I ended up 2nd. I received more congratulatory compliments from the other racers in the race where I soloed off the front than in the race where I ended up 2nd. Now I ask all of you who are reading this column: which was the better race and why?
Write up your opinion and e-mail it to me at jkmansoor@ucdavis.edu. I'd like to hear what people have to say.