Austin’s report:

The USA Cycling Elite National Championships are an annual opportunity for the nation’s best amateur cyclists to pit themselves against each other in a road race, a criterium, and a time trial. For months I had been entertaining the possibility of heading to Nationals. They were taking place within driving range in Augusta, GA, and the road race course looked hilly and hard, which suits me. But the weather was sure to be unbearably hot, and it was clear that I would need serious support to make sure that I stayed hydrated and cool. So I wrote it off as something that wasn’t likely to happen until a few weeks before the races, when my parents let me know that they would be interested in going to Augusta and spending some time together. I was sure that I could teach them to pass me bottles, so there was the support I was looking for. I started spending time on my time trial bike, and made plans to travel to Augusta.

The Northeast has had almost no hot days this year, and unfortunately the weather in Augusta lived up to my expectations and was delivering consistent temperatures in the upper 90s and 100s. I was worried about how I would stand up to the heat. I made the 12-hour drive to Augusta on Tuesday, and set out Wednesday at mid-day to experience the time trial course in the hottest part of the day. The results weren’t encouraging. After about an hour on the bike, I tried to do some opening efforts, and my legs wouldn’t respond at all. I was dying in the heat. After a couple of more aborted attempts, I packed it in and hoped that after one day of riding in the heat, I would feel better for the next day’s time trial.

My start time was schedule for just after 1:00 on Thursday afternoon. I made my way to the course and started warming up an hour before I went off. As my start time approached, a line of thunderstorms started delivering sporadic rain and gusts of wind. Fortunately, they also dropped the temperature a few degrees, which was a welcome development.

I got off to a good start, and felt strong pushing into the headwind on the way out. But as I hit the turnaround and started to make my way back, I could feel myself start to lose it. I did what I could to minimize the losses: pushing hard over the rollers, and trying to recover a bit on the way back down. Time trials always hurt, but on some days you feel like you are punishing the course, and on some days the course is punishing you. On the way back, there was no doubt that I was being punished. I rolled through the finish knowing that I hadn’t put in a championship-level performance. It was good enough for 14th place, which wasn’t a terrible result. But I wasn’t satisfied.

The 50-mile criterium was set for the following afternoon, with the temperature again in the mid-90s. It was a flat, four-corner course, a little over a kilometer in length. I’m not a field sprinter, so I knew that I would be looking for a result in a breakaway. About halfway through the race, there was a dangerous-looking group of eight riders up the road. I bridged up to them and set to work helping to build a gap. But the move was too early, and it stayed away for less than ten laps. I attacked again when the break was caught. But after a lap by myself, I saw that that was going nowhere and drifted back to the field.

I tried to stay patient sitting in the field as a few more groups attempted to establish themselves up the road. I watched as the laps ticked down, waiting for the right time to make a move. With a little over five laps to go, there was a group of three riders dangling up the road, and I decided to go for it. I bridged up to them over the next lap. We were quickly joined by another group of three, and then another solo rider. The cooperation wasn’t spectacular, but we were putting time into the field.

With a couple of laps remaining, we were leading the field by about 15 seconds. That’s not a huge advantage, but with good cooperation, it might be able to stick. I put in a hard turn on the front with a lap and a half to go, and when I pulled off, an attack launched from behind me. Not good! Fatigued from the effort that I had just put in, I wasn’t able to latch on to the other riders as they went by. I spent the next lap dangling a few seconds behind them, desperately trying to make contact again as the field came charging from behind. In the end, I was caught by the field with only two corners remaining. So close, but again I was left empty-handed.

All of my attention shifted to Sunday’s road race. It was 105 miles through the rolling hills of Fort Gordon, and started at noon on a day with temperatures reaching into the upper 90s. There was no doubt that it would be a contest of attrition. I gave my parents lessons in the hotel parking lot about how to behave in a feedzone, and they did an incredible job of making sure that I received two bottles and an icesock on each of the 15-mile laps.

The race started off with a flurry of attacks. Nothing really stuck until 30 miles into the race, when a dozen guys separated themselves from the field. Their gap hovered around 30 seconds to a minute. I was nervous enough about the group that I attacked the field several times in the middle of the race with the intent of bridging. But I always only pulled one or two other riders with me, who refused to help me out on account of already having a teammate in the break. So I had to be patient and wait for other riders to tire themselves out.

I sensed my chance with a little less than two laps two go. The break was starting to fracture and lose time to the field, and attacks at the front of the field had things lined out almost single file. On a small roller, I launched myself off the front, and quickly found myself with two other riders. We rode through the remains of the earlier break, and set to work. After a few miles, we noticed another group had separated from the field behind us. We sat up and waited to join this group of a dozen other riders. Unfortunately, the group was a little too big, and there was very little cooperation. A lot of guys were sitting on, refusing to work. There were only a handful of us doing all of the work at the front. I was also getting a little nervous because one of my legs had started to cramp as we rolled by the start/finish with one lap to go. I just wanted to keep things rolling along smoothly.

With about ten miles to go as we were climbing one of the innumerable small hills, an attack launched up the left-hand side of the road. I was not happy at all, since this wasn’t going to do anything good for the cooperation of the group. I covered it pretty easily, and then another attack came on the next little hill. I jumped on the back of that one, too, and glanced back to notice that I was now with only four other riders, with the rest lagging 10 seconds behind. Huh. All of us started rotating smoothly together, putting time into everyone else as our previous breakaway companions were caught by the field. We had a 40 second advantage on the field as we came to the final kilometer of the race. An attack flew up the road from behind me, which I covered fairly easily. Then as the road turned up for the final hill, I jumped again to cover another attack, and my right hamstring seized. My cramp from early had decided to return at precisely the wrong moment! I limped up the hill and across the finish line, locking up 5th place for the final spot on the podium.

I find it hard to be satisfied with anything less than victory, but my first visit to Elite Nationals was a successful trip. I gained a lot of valuable experience, and put MetLife on the podium in the road race to remind everyone of our status as one the nation’s top teams.