Mens A
Womens A
Mens B
Womens B
Mens C
Mens D

Chearleaders rept.

Mens A

Womens A

Hey all, here's the report for the Women's A race from the big Easterns
weekend:

RR:
This was by far the longest race I had ever done, and as you've already heard the downhills were crazy--I saw 48mph on my computer for the first time. The field was more "chill" than usual. There were very few attacks. Everyone seemed to be looking at eachother wondering what everyone else was thinking.
Amy started playing "game show host" to try to convince others to pull. Amy even considered stopping to help Janet with her bike--yes this is Janets new bike--its gears were mis-behaving throughout the race. We trudged along through 6 laps and turned into the final killer hill. Lisa promptly got dropped, Amy landed 4th and Pam 10th.

TTT:
We decided to take a quick spin to stay warm before our start. We came back 5 minutes after our starting time--oops. The wonderful official squeezed us in anyway. We started out OK, holding a steady pace and working hard. Lisa was in front going into the first turn. At the turn, there was a cone in the road to prevent us from going straight and there were two marshalls pointing to the right. I yelled "which way?" The marshall yelled "right" and Amy yelled "take a right," so of course, I went straight (don't ask for an explaination, I don't have one...). So Lisa went straight, while the rest of the team went right.
Amy dropped back and pulled Lisa up to join the group. Lisa took a couple of pulls and blew up. The rest of the team finished strong at 4th place --only 2 seconds behind third.

Crit:
We had a beautiful day for this fast flat crit. Again, not many attacks, everyone just sort of hung out and sprinted at the finish. Janet got caught behind a girl who broke her collar bone and lay screaming on the ground. Janet finally managed to resist her first aid urges, ran to the pit and hopped back into the race. Amy and Janet scored some impressive preem points. Amy 11, Janet 14, Pam 16, Lisa 19

Mens B

Womens B

After having so much fun racing at Easterns, I have lost all time catching up on work and also spending a lot more time cooking and eating.(Has anyone else experienced this??) But here, goes, better late than never I hope:

RR:
It was a ~45 mile race, including 4 loops over a course of rolling hills, with a few sharp, steep inclines thrown in. The field was bigger than usual, or so I was told, but it broke up pretty early. Iva and I stayed with a lead group of about 15, while seems like Michelle (aka Onyx) once again experienced having a few others to ride with who interpreted her desire for sharing the work as a simple desire for companionship. and as word had it, Margaret made her way along somewhere in the middle there, losing the lead group because of lack of the necessary gearing. From that point on, she periodically she got her bike to manually change her gearing so that she could either climb up a hill, or get down it while still being able to pedal.

In the front group, it started off similar to last week's experience where I was a bit confused as to why we were going so slowly. I had at least learned by now that it is not productive--nor well
received-- to suggest that we all take turns pulling. So, I made a few attempts to push the pace, but when it was clear that all but 2 others were simply going to stay behind, I adopted another
strategy: If I was in the front, I gave it about much energy as if I were behind a wheel. This way, too, I could stay out in front where I felt most safe (Yes, safety first!). I also decided that the idea must be that if others behind felt we were going too slowly, then they could take the initiative to push the pace, and I would then grab the wheel. Besides, I realized later, it is certainly possible that I did not know what I was doing and the relaxed pace was maybe just what I needed to last for the whole distance and still have something left at the end for a hill or a sprint!! Very plausible!! We also managed, the whole group, to push every hill. So, it wasn't all relaxing...

In the midst of this, there were a few other not so relaxing moments: There was a major crash that bandaged one rider, and sent another to the hospital. Just after this crash, our lead vehicle, a police car, stopped paying attention and started slowing to almost a stop in the middle of a steep descent. I was once again in the front (as I was in the Army race when the lead car did dead-stop right in front of me on a very fast descent), and could not believe that I was rapidly descending toward our lead car. About to swerve around him, simultaneously starting to yell out to get his attention, he realized we were there and accellerated... just in time.

So, all the while we were riding along, a few of us were under the impression that we were saving ourselve for a "big 3 mile climb" to the finish. After the steep uphill at UVM, this image seemed clear and the rationale legitimate. Instead, when we turned into this big hill, it was in fact a flat stretch into a brutal head wind. Seemed that we did not know what to do, so we all just slowed down, dramatically, because no one wanted to pull into that wind. Eventually, it began to climb, and when we asked UNH how long the climb was, she deceptively answered: for a LONG ways. (note: it wasn't a long way after all.) Seems like 4 of us took off at that point, 3 who had been in the front the whole race (UNH, Penn and me) and another UNH rider. Inspired by the great shouts of the Harvard cheerleaders, I sprinted to the crest of the hill, a nose ahead of the others. But alas, there was a flat/downhill stretch after that to the finish, and the UNH riders sprinted around me. Just as I managed to gap them, Penn moved around me and we finished, 1-2-3-4, with me getting 4th. It was a disappointing ending, but seemed like a real bike racing experience ,one to be prepared for (and to use to motivate more informed training for next year!)

Iva hung on, going at her "own pace" as she told me, finishing about 12th!! It was her longest race ever, and with the greatest amount of climbing. Good job Iva!

After the finish, we discovered that Michelle had climbed the final hill!! but had also been
pulled-- we wonder if they had accurrately calculated her place behind the lead group tho??
Margaret also came up the hill soon after, looking strong!, finishing 20th.

TTT:

It was a much different race, from my vantage pt, than the other TTTs I'd done. We had Margaret with us, an Amy-like task master reminding us that the "fun" is in going as hard as you can , because this is a race after all! Or that's how it felt: cause we did indeed RACE the race, including all of the pain and energy and mental focus that involves.

I started out quite anaerobic (oh ya, that's what the trainer warm-ups are for: not to easily ride and chat with fellow-HUCA-ites--but to be prepared to start out hard.) And I also quickly realized that my legs were fried from yesterday (yes, doing long-distance triathlons in 2000 does not help much for endurance and recovery in a race in 2004). So, wondering if I should be dropped or not, I did all I could to hold on. Iva reports later that she was also quite tired. But Michelle and Margaret were in their element!! Michelle was a powerhouse of strength and endurance, as was Margaret. Margaret kept us on task, and we obeyed, as best we could. We rode hard and steady and strong for the first 3/4, and then on the backside, we lost a little of our organization. We hit a few hills and split up--- with Iva and I getting slightly ahead, only to have Michelle catch us soon after. It was clear to me that we needed Michelle-- we tried not to get far from her at all after that! Maragaret was behind at this point, having technical problems and not the right gearing. But we were in the final stretch now, with the 3 of us pulling up to the finish. We finished 3rd, winning a medal for the team!

CRIT:

In spite of fatigue and ambivalence and intense fear (on my part) 5 HUCA women started the Crit.
Today we had Sophia back to join the team! Again experiencing that one will go anaerobic if treating warm up as a social hour, I quickly was on that edge again as I tried to follow the cardinal rule in bike racing: hold on to that front wheel! I also was crystal clear that I would do whatever necessary to avoid a crash, so stayed to the outside and/or near the front.

The pack stayed big for a few laps, with the front riders going out very fast, Margaret having made her way up toward them, and me in the pack, but hovering toward the back and outside. Before I knew what was happening, tho, I saw a huge crash in front of me, with women screaming and bikes everywhere. Margaret had also gone down. Never having experienced this before, it was hard to react with indiference--- so, I slowed and tried to see what to do. Eventually, I realized that I was probably supposed to just ignore this and keep riding. (An interesting psychological experience, i must say..). So, seems I rode the next few laps alone (it's all a blur...), now being quite cut off from the lead pack and apparantly one of the few riders from the back still up.

Inspired by GREAT HUCA cheering, and feeling quite safe all alone :), I eventually managed to catch the group in front of me, which also included Margaret, who had courageously gotten back onher bike and jumped into the race after being given a free lap!

I am also happy to report that this also meant that I no longer needed to be on the edge of such pain and aerobic effort. I had found a wheel again! And this time, I also decided that it was nicest to stay in the back, behind the 5 other riders in this pack.

In this group, I started to really feel safe and even come to love riding the crit. I was able to relax with the cornering and even experience the thrill of a nuanced effort of not braking around certain corners, with a slight push up a hill, also still cornering. An exhilerating and memorable experience...

The finish was a sprint, and Margaret was well positioned to take the lead, and so she did!! She finished first in our group, and 9th overall in the race. I also was feeling quite rested, and so managed to pull some strength out and pass two of the riders, than taking 12th overall (4th in our group).

Iva decided to pull out, making an adult decision that it was not so fun or meaningful (ie, re
points) to keep going. Sophia and Michelle also gave a great effort, but because of the tight course, were not able to finish, for the safety of the others and the position of the front 2 groups.

Mens C

So it has come to an end. Another great season of bike racing, meeting and travelling with new friends, and most important, the yearly overdose of Cliff bars.

Oposed to the rest of HUCA, the men's C category actually had half of its members coming back (3). Seasoned veterans Jamie, Paul and Ramses, with ONE full year of bike racing under their belt.... wow, such maturity and poise, coolness under the pressure of racing week after week, such leadership skills.... we are talking about setting a rock solid foundation for a team.
This year, the addition of work horses and power riders such as Mark Pachuki and Stephen Maxwell, as well as the "out of this planet" talent of Alex Turnbull have made a clear statement that the men's C team will be a force of contention in the future. How fortunate of HUCA that the majority of us are graduate students with an, as yet undefined, number of years where we will be a continuous presence amongst the cycling ranks. And with the addition of the men's D team, well..... what great golden fruits will the future hold for us.

Well, enough with the blah, blah, blah, BS and lets get to the report.

For Saturday morning's road race, Stephen Maxwell and I, your humble servant Ramses, were the only representatives of HUCA in the C field. I "decided"
that pre-race warmups were overrated and opted for the ever popular, in-race style of warmup. We lined up and the gun went off. We had to go four times around the 10 mile loop and it was clear that nobody really wanted to put in a serious bid for a solo ride so the pack stayed together. The pace was actually a bit of stop and go.... as it is usual for men's C races.... with the front riders randomly attacking and then sitting back up to chat like old ladies at tea time. I mean this was bordering on the ridiculous sometimes and it got quite boring after two laps. The good thing was that the men's D had a massive crash and so the entire C field had to pull off to the side of the road and stop to allow an ambulance to pass by. Of course this led to some more of that old lady chit chatting.... "and how do you shave?" "Oh my, what a beautyfull set of brakes you got there..." etc, etc... Stephen and I were doing pretty well and had no trouble riding in the pack, in fact, the few times where we found ourselves sitting all the way at the back we were able to very easily move up the ranks and re establish a good position around the tea table. Finally in the last lap the pace picke up a bit. Stephen had problems keeping up with the pack around the back side hills and then a couple of crashes ended up breaking the pack. I stayed with the front group through the turn off towards THE HILL; men did that wind suck or what!!! As we approached the hill, the pace really took off, but I had no problems staying at the front. I knew that If I were to have any chances of scoring points, I needed to remain with the peloton up the hill.
Alas, I am about 20 pounds heavier thant most of the light weights in the C field, and I don't have the power to accelerate up the hills; therefore I ended up droping back and came in around 35 place overall. Stephen rolled in around 42 place. Overall, this was a much better performance for me than last year... at least I was able to stay with the pack throught the hills.

In the evening the team rewarded itself with a fabulous jump into the hot tub at the hotel.... man was that good.

The next morning, the alarms went off at 5:00 am for the 7:00 am Time trial.
Of course my bike shorts were not dry yet, having worn them the night before to the hot tub. I resorted to the old "lets hang them out the window as we drive to the race" technique, which worked perfectly except for the fact that it was about minus a gazillion degrees outside and the shorts were frozen when we arrived. No problem, crank up the heat in the van and presto, some toasty warm shorts to go. The team was composed of Jamie, Stephen and I. For this I resorted back to my original warmup procedure of 10 min jog, followed by some intervals on the trainer. I was feeling great and ready to go. The course was an out and back loop in rolling terrain that lended itself for my kind of racing, steady and fast fast pace.
We went off first and decided to take a conservative approach to the race, having only three people and not knowing how we would perform throught the
14 miles. I was able to take long pulls allowing Stephen and Jamie to sit behind me and rest; Stephen gave me enough time to rest and Jamie was at first having trouble recovering throught the cycles. However, I felt good and was able to sustain the pace for most of the race. The marshals were clearly still asleep because as we approached all of the corners we had to yell in advance for directions as to in which direction to turn. At the turn around point the officials didn't even know which of all the cones that they had set up was the actual turn. We were passed by Penn State at the half way point but were able to sustain the pace for the rest of the race.
Unfortunately we really lacked a fourth rider and came in 6th place over all, 20 seconds outside of the points.

The crit was in the very charming town of Dover. I came back early, with the D guys, from the time trial; proceeded to take a warm shower, brush my long and silky hair and take a beauty nap back at the hotel, before the race.....
Hey! You gotta look good for the last race of the year!!!
The course was perfect for a fast paced race and again I was feeling good.
We lined up and the guns went off. The pace from the begining was really intense; in fact, we averaged over 25 miles/hr for the entire race. During the first couple of laps the field was completely strung out in single file as the wind made it hard for people to move up the pack. However, the pace settled down a bit and then we all regrouped. There were several attempts to create breaks but none of them stuck. I positioned myself and worked to stay within the first 15 riders of the group. Jamie came up on several ocations but at the end opted for hanging in the center of the pack. Stephen, not having fully recovered from the morning's TT ended up dropping off the back and eventually got pulled out of the race. When the final lap came, I moved up to the front of the group and positioned myself in the 5th spot; as we came around the last turn I was in perfect position for a fabulous finish and then...... 9 people passed me in the sprint..................
!@#$^%$&*^^^&(#$@!!!!!!!! Really, I must work on that acceleration business during the summer. In any case, I must say that this was some of the best racing that I've done and I am very thankfull to HUCA and the coaches for the help that they have provided. I can very gladly say that I had a ton of fun this year and I am really looking forward to next year.

I hope that I haven't bored you with all of my chatter..... I am latin and as such, never know when to shut up.

Untill next time,

Ramses

Mens D

Yo yo yo,

This is the story of six guys chosen to race together and find out what happens when people stop being polite and start kicking a$$. Jaws, Cliff, Stew, Jason, Post and "Heat" Evans were the contenders this weekend in sunny-while-freezing Dover, NH.

UNH decided that they weren't bringing enough people to races, so they drafted the bowling team or something and lined up across the front with an intimidating 15 racers. Right before they blew the whistle I had the pleasure of hearing the dude right in front of me say to a teammate: "This is the first time I've ever been on a road bike". Tasty. Starting off on a fast 49 mph downhill, we had the pleasure of seeing a Bulldog speed wobbling wildly. He pulled off into the incoming traffic lane and started scaring the bejesus out of us. Quoting Stew: "He was either going to run off the road into a tree, the car that was headed straight towards him, or end the racing career of every novice cyclist in the Eastern Conference" Instead, he got his shiznit under control and got back with us. Our beloved Cliff "Skin" Chen got aced early on; despite much road rash, he hopped right back on and started chasing. Jason was content to cruise the course out of the hairiness of the pack. Coming to the hills, I was devastated to find out that my legs were shot. Zach and Stew seemed to be feeling mountain-goaty, so I let them take the front on the climbs, while I caught up to the head of the pack on the downhills. Fortunately the yellow line was missing from significant parts of the course. This business continued for the first 25 miles or so; the Vermonster (UVM) dominated for the first half; when they tired we were left following the Blue Wave (UNH). Coming up Mt. Endless the third time the pack surged, leaving a 10 man break and a bunch of chasers. Stew, Post, and I all made it back up with the pack. Going fast now the Crimson was hurting. On one of the short hills, Post popped and we lost our star climber of Mt. Philo fame. Stew and I were hanging on by the thinnest of threads, which snapped quick as Don Zimmer when we hit the "challenging uphill finish". We were left staring at a bunch of blue and yellow jaunting up ahead. Only El Chinito's vociferous and heartfelt cheering got us to the line. This race was a hell of a lot of work. Jaws was 19th, Stew 20th, Post 33rd, Skin 64th, Jewish Heat 70th, and Jason "Mess With Me and I'll Litigate Yo' Ass So Fast You Won't Have Time to Say 'I Object' " Gillum came in 72d. There were 84 starters!!!!

After a quick dip in the jacuzzi, we sawed logs till 5:00 the next morning. Then we sleep-drove (a sport almost as exciting as bike racing) along to our favorite NWA song ("I gotta get drunk, before the day begins"), all the way to our Arctic time-trial course. (We joyfully watched the thermometer drop as we headed West). Cold, sleepy, and dead from Saturday, we warmed up hard, and came up to the start just in time to watch a delinquent BU time start 3 and a half minutes late. We were gassed, but did our best, keeping up a constant pace through the course, until we all popped about half a mile from the line. We may have also been distracted by the cute senoritas TT'ing in the Cornell men's D team. Yeah, that's it. We kept it together and managed to wheeze our way across the line and into a fourth-place finish 1:27 off the leaders. Go Men's D Lovefest! 16 points for Harvard. Cha-ching.

Now completely fried we zoomed over to the Crit course (they gave us a generous 2 hours between races). The course was magnificently wide, and utterly lacked anything technical to split the pack. We raced hard, with Stew, Post, and I taking turns at the front of the pack, and taking turns going for the primes. Post went for Primo Uno, coming in a narrow 5th. I went for number two, and managed to score 4th. Meanwhile, Skin, Heat, and "Mess With Me and I'll Litigate Yo' Ass So Fast You Won't Have Time to Say 'I Object' " went chilling on the hind end. Positions were changing every ten seconds in this race. I was looking good in 6th spot and moving up at bell lap when sketchy Wentworth dude swiped my wheel. Goodbye 6th spot, hello back of the pack! Crimson put on the charge to move up, but time ran out with me in 13th, Post in 29th, and Stew in 31st. *only* 65 starters.

Great season y'all. Thank you so much for your generous coaching, cheering, training, and all-round help and love. We couldn't and wouldn't have done it without you. And please, alumni, remember: money (given to HUCA) can buy (my) happiness.

Peace,
El tiburon.

Chearleaders eye view

Ciao HUCA Nation,
Given the choice between doing my homework and writing a non-race report, I figured it might be fun to give a cheerleaders-eye view of the Saturday road race at Easterns :). It was truly inspiring to watch all of our riders bring the season to such an awesome conclusion. Go Harvard!

Ci vediamo,
Nathaniel

Non-Race Report: A Cheerleader's-Eye View of Easterns

It is a luscious, lazy, sun-kissed Saturday morning in the latter days of April. Lost in the arms of sleep, I awaken only when the noonday sun falls through my windows and upon my pillow; I slowly saunter over to my computer to check the live updates for the sixth stage of the Tour de Georgia on cyclingnews.com.

This pleasant dream (for, alas, ‘tis only a dream!) is shattered by the obnoxious blaring of my evil little alarm clock, a foul device whose dream-splitting tone has been honed over the course of decades by sinister mad scientists devoted to the art of sleep deprivation. In a momentary flash of semi-consciousness, I am grateful for my childhood kenpo classes, which allow me to deliver a swift and debilitating chop to the “snooze” button of the aforementioned aural offender. It is only ten minutes later that a single synapse fires in the back of my still-sleeping brain, generating the semi-conscious realization that there must be some reason (apart from the cruel caprice of life) that my alarm clock went off before sunrise.

Moments later, my roommates are awakened by an earsplitting cry of “CRAP!” as my brain (my still-sleeping brain, lest you forget) establishes a causal connection between the absurdity of my early-morning alarm and the ECCC championship road race. While waiting for the shower to reach a temperature above 32 degrees Fahrenheit, I hurriedly check the photos posted on velonews.com from Friday’s epic stage of the TdG (http://www.velonews.com/race/dom/articles/5946.0.html). My finger suddenly ceases its twitching upon the mouse-button when I reach a picture of two cyclists, trading pedal-strokes side by side in the sunlight of a Georgian afternoon. The caption reads, “meanwhile, the boss shows one of the young pups how the big dogs bark.” The boss is, of course, The Boss. The young pup is Harvard’s own Stuart Gillespie. I am struck by the sensation that this is one of the most touching and inspiring cycling photos I have ever seen. I am then struck by the sensation that some folks at Memorial Hall are going to be pretty pissed off at me if I don’t haul @$$ right now.

I am soon staggering along Mass. Ave. at relatively high speeds, eliciting startled looks from the sleepy taxi drivers gathered along the curb. It is only then that I realize that I am entirely without food, which is the equivalent of a death-by-starvation sentence for someone allergic to Power Bars spending all day at a road race. I thank my lucky stars for the 24-hour CVS just a stone’s throw from Memorial Hall, and shortly thereafter emerge with a bag containing all of the edible items to be found on the shelves of the venerable pharmacy: yogurt raisins a small box of Haribo gummy bears a bottle of apple juice a sack of Jelly Bellies© Craisins a bag of Pirate’s Booty and a strangely-capped flask of grape gatorade. In my hurry to reach Mem Hall, I forget the punctuation marks in my list of edible items.

Rounding the front of Annenberg and reaching the familiar loading zone, I glance at my watch and am disappointed to discover that I could have spent a whole extra two minutes enraptured by the picture of Stu and Lance before making everyone late. After exchanging what nominal greetings are possible at 6 in the morning with those present, I am fortunate to be blessed by Julie with a key seat in her car next to the beloved Corby the World-Famous Cycling Doggie. The trip to Center Strafford, NH is blessedly short and beautiful, made all the easier by the pleasant company of Julie, Margaret, and Corby the World-Famous Cycling Doggie. Corby and I get some quality bonding time. I am struck by the fact that the East Coast is weird, as evidenced by the fact that its sketchy gas stations are not open 24-7. I also discover that apple juice, gummy bears, and yogurt raisins make a marvelously disgusting breakfast.

We arrive at the National Guard station in Center Strafford just a handful of minutes after Steve and Iva…and, by some bizarre twist in the space-time continuum, well before all the Harvard riders who came up the preceding day. Immediately upon arriving, we form a protective corral around the port-a-john with our vehicles and formulate plans for charging admission. Soon my homies in Men’s D show up in their tricked-out minivan and start rockin’ the proverbial house with their Weezer tunes. They rock the proverbial house so much that the battery of aforementioned tricked-out minivan dies. Soon the D guys are spinning up on their trainers, while I am busily committed to carrying out the official Worst Pinning-On of Numbers in the History of Man. My attempt is so successful that Cliff’s side-numbers are upside-down and require an emergency repinning. Il Postino’s numbers are so poorly pinned that he has to be re-pinned by Pam. Such is his excuse, at least. Fifty bucks says he and Pam are sitting next to each other in the hot tub on Saturday night.

Tonia, George, Julie, and I go through our morning warm-up. Along with the afternoon's racers, we comprise the official Harvard Cheerleading Squad. Our dance moves are the envy of the peloton.

Before long, the wicked-fast D racers are warmed up and fully ready to kick butt and take names. Men’s C, Men’s D, and Women’s B all queue up at the line. Holy cow, I think I just used the word “queue”. Swueuet.

Men’s C goes off, with Ramses and Steve representing.

Men’s D lines up and departs five minutes thereafter. Il postino is wearing his new Jelly Belly cap. I decide that life could not be cooler than this. Jaws, Postino, Foobah, Clifford “Not the Big Red Dog”, Jewish Heat, and Jason d’Law School are the day’s deliverers of the HUCA Smackdown in the Men’s D race.

Women’s B fills the start line after the departure of the Men’s D racers. Margaret, Iva, Robin, and Michelle break out the steely determination of their race-faces and launch quickly from the line.

Feeling pleased as punch after fulfilling my start-line duties (snagging Postino’s jacket and…uh…representin’), I am further blessed by a joyful starting-line reunion with Janet. George (now known as 9:30) then kindly provides a cup of coffee. I am ascending towards Nirvana, until George reminds us that Nirvana means “place without wind”. One could not mistake Center Strafford for anything remotely resembling a “place without wind” even while tripping out on the mind-altering substances found in Tonia’s much-appreciated baked goods. Thusly reminded, I fail to reach Nirvana. Thanks, George.

The cheerleader’s-eye view of the three morning races from the starting corner goes something like this:

Lap 1:

Men’s C blazes by just as we arrive, coffee in hand. Ramses and Steve look gooood. Steve looks, in fact, like he’s just spinning along. I am suitably amazed.

Men’s D swings by. Jaws, Foobah, and Postino are all looking good in the pack. Clifford comes flying by in the initial line of chasers. Jewish Heat and Jason d’Law School come rolling down the road thereafter. I try to encourage Jewish Heat by shouting his nickname in combination with uplifting words. He looks as though he would try to kill me if he were not racing a bicycle. Jason is doing the David Millar thing and “just chillin’ in the back”.

Women’s B flies through. Robin and Iva are looking awesome. Margaret and Michelle pull through soon thereafter. They are my inspiration!

Lap 2:

Men’s C flies by again. Ramses and Steve look gooood. What can I say? These guys rock.

Men’s D swings by again. Jaws, Foobah, and Postino are all looking great. I’m torn between cheering and taking pictures, which turn out to be mutually exclusive activities. Brief existential crisis ensues. I shove the camera in my pocket. Clifford comes by with a brutal case of road rash. Road leprosy? I am concerned. Yet Clifford is smiling. Smiling trumps road leprosy, I think, and my apprehension wanes. Jewish Heat and Jason d’Law School are sticking with it!

Ambulance sirens wail in the background. We are deeply concerned, until…

Women’s B flies through. Robin and Iva are looking awesome. Margaret and Michelle pull through soon thereafter. No Harvard riders in an ambulance; major sigh of relief is emitted.

Julie volunteers to take us up to the finishing climb to cheer the riders as their respective races come to an end. George and Tonia find a cute dog and gradually meander on over to the car. I become very agitated and looks repeatedly at my watch. Julie pulls her car out of the lot just in time to see the Men’s D race make their turn onto the finishing stretch. George, Tonia, and Julie hear Nathaniel emit the day’s second loud cry of “CRAP!”. Julie pulls us onto the race course right behind the follow-car and, in a demonstration of steely nerves and icy determination, plays a game of high-speed chicken with oncoming traffic as we pass the peloton. With my window rolled down, I feel momentarily like a DS in the Tour de France, ready to hand bottles and sage advice to my riders through the open window. I remember that I am only a cheerleader and scream “GO HARVARD!!” before Julie swerves back into our lane directly in front of the cop car at the head of the peloton. The cop car looks momentarily torn between continuing to lead the peloton or stopping the whole race to ticket us for insane driving. Fortunately, he decides that angering a pack of forty riders by stopping to ticket us would be a baaaad idea. Safely in front of the advancing peloton, we pick up Clifford’s father and make our way to the middle of the finishing climb. In the hour that follows, we watch excitedly as the Men’s D, Men’s C, and Women’s B races ascend the steep slope and cross the line. (The order of finishers and subsequent placement is germane only to the true race reports; here we will instead attempt to convey the brief interactions of cheerleader and rider on the last stretch of the climb.)

-Looking with disgust at the crazy climber-types up the road, Jaws and Foobah fight valiantly to reach the crest. Foobah leads Jaws by a good twenty feet. The cheerleaders lining the climb are awed by the sudden Second Coming of Jaws as he ratchets up the pace, begins to push Foobah with his hand, and then powers over the top of the hill towards the finish.

-Having conducted an elaborate cost-benefit analysis during the long climb, Il postino decides to do the Cipollini thing and save his energy for the following day. His Jelly Belly cap is still looking sweet. I decide he is the most chilled-out rider of the day.

-Despite suffering from road leprosy as a result of his earlier crash, Clifford makes a monster effort and finishes strongly. I am suitably amazed.

-Jewish Heat is in a baaaad mood. His first words are, “this is terrible.” His second words are, “stop running next to me, you’re making me depressed.”

-Jason d’Law School is chilling out up the climb. His resemblance to David Millar is striking.

-Ramses comes riding up the mountain spewing curses about featherweight climbers. Steve comes up soon thereafter with a look implying that similar sentiments are on his mind. Both are carefully concocting an elaborate plan of revenge for the morrow.

-Michelle powers up the hill, simultaneously taking the honor of First Women’s B Rider Across the Line and Most Awesome, Indomitable, Courageous Rider of the Day for voluntarily climbing the mountain.

-Robin comes flying up the hill looking Fraulein Maria. Not even Mike Barton himself had this much mastery of the climb. Iva follows shortly thereafter, and valiantly keeps turning things over until she reaches the crest and the subsequent finish line.

-Margaret is awesome. From her responses I gather she wants me to just stop jabbering at her and let her finish the freaking climb .

All the riders officially become my heroes and inspirations.

(I’ll bet you didn’t think this cheerleader’s report would really last this long, did you? Thanks for actually reading through all of this. I guess I’m technically only half-done, owing to the entire afternoon of Men’s A, Women’s A, and Men’s B races, but I should probably bring the torture to a close shortly. One last extended paragraph, if you will.)

Afternoon flow of consciousness encompassing Women’s A, Men’s A, Men’s B races: Hanging out on start corner and in feed zone. Wondering at the marvels of babbling brooks. George and Jaws trade Jelly Bellies. I consider how long it will take me to grow my own Jelly Belly if I fail to return to serious riding shortly. Jaws uses his massive calf muscles to stand at a 45-degree angle to the ground while looking totally smooth. I learn way more than I ever needed to know about stuffing Gu in bras. Michelle suggests I try a similar technique with Gu in my bike shorts. I squirm. Not because I actually tried it, mind you. Amy rocks my world. Pam rocks my world. Pam throws a sweaty glove at me. Lisa rocks my world. Janet rocks my world. Janet throws a water bottle at me. Brendan and Dan rock my world, but throw nothing at me. Jaws attempts to launch me into a culvert.

Tearful departure. Boundless hope that Harvard will be awesome on Sunday.