I wasn’t planning on attacking. 

Well, in truth, I was. Just not then. Not 10 meters off of the start line. Not while my ears still rung with the sound of the start gun. But there it was, a beautiful gap and a gentleman to share it with. It wasn’t going to last, but that wasn’t the point. The point was there was something left in my legs, and I intended on leaving it all out there. 

We worked together. I’m still not the best at holding a wheel and it became apparent that he would benefit more from my draft then I would from his. I heard a lot of yelling and a lot of encouragement. I saw Kevin shake his head a lot. It’s easier to break away on the Track. I imagine this is how breakaway riders in the Tour feel when the camera points directly on them. They must feel a little of fans excitement. It’s probably what pushes them on. It certainly worked for me.

Eventually the Catch happened and I just held my line. As they approached I yelled at my compatriot to hit it. He was able to hold on while I drifted back. The last 20 or so laps were uneventful for myself, but it was exciting to see the last 10 duke it out for the final sprint from the top of the rail. 

Next time, I’ll try something different. But I will try.

Damn I missed racing.