Last weekend marked the second installment of the Lucarelli & Castaldi cup and, with TBD holding yellow, the team turned up en masse to defend the jersey. What followed was a chaotic, fun and raucous race, split between eleven different teammates. Here are two of those accounts.

Ben

I came into the race with only the goal of defending the jersey. Anything beyond that was just a nice bonus. Besides, I figured it would be tricky to slip away like I did last time dressed like a banana. The plan was simple: try something with two laps to go. Failing that, rest up and launch on the final climb.

The race started smoothly enough. For the first few laps, I floated around the middle to the rear of the field with Cullen. Then, I made my way up towards the front half of the bunch where Yosef controlled the pace and watched for any breakaways.

Just before three laps to go, an opportunity opened up. The field was strung out and tired from the KOM, the sprint and from chasing the early break, Matt pulled up alongside me, “It might be now.” Then, I found myself in second wheel behind Cullen on the straight before the climb. I asked him to keep going, he complied. I asked him to go all the way to the climb, he demurred. “Should I go now?” I asked. Cullen shrugged, “Yeah, why not?” So I went. After a big dig I turned to see my gap. It looked to be no more than ten seconds. “Unideal.” I thought. “I’ll get over the hill and assess the situation.”

It quickly became clear that this wasn’t going to be one that stuck. In total, the move lasted about half a lap or so.

Once I was caught, the plan became to rest up and save it for the final climb. With two laps to go, Matt and Rod got to the front and drilled it. Coming into the final climb, Scott came up and buried himself. I hopped off his wheel at the traffic lights and gave it everything I had. In the bright spring sunlight, I could clearly see the shadow of a rider glued to my wheel. Towards the top of the climb, I could sense that it was just the two of us. I risked a quick glance back. One guy, Alex, and then maybe a five second gap back to the field. 500m to go. “Fuck, just gave this guy the perfect lead-out.” But whatever, second and yellow was good enough. Head down, I went as hard as hard as I could to the line. I tried to sprint but realistically it wasn’t going to happen, all the practice I had done with Scott the day before flew right out the window. Sorry, Scott. Alex popped around in the last 100 and I was good for second. But second was more than good enough.

I’ve always heard people talk about how much fun it is to execute a plan as a team, but I don’t think I had actually experienced it until Sunday. It’s so reassuring. You’re immersed in the fizz of carbon and then suddenly a friendly face floats by… Matt steaming up the middle… Lucia sneaking up the side… Before this weekend, winning solo was my best memory on a bike, but after Sunday, it was winning second as a team.

Shaina

I told myself I wasn’t going to race until June, as I am nowhere near race shape, but when I heard that the team was banding together to defend Ben’s yellow Jersey, I eagerly hopped on board.

Waking hours earlier than usual, I sleepily cycled a block and a half up the hill where I was met with the pre-race energy of number pickup and pinning. It was a frigid morning, so cold that not even the nerves and anticipation could bring warmth to my bones.

Teammates abound, we braved the weather and set ourselves up at the start line together. At the sound of the whistle, we were off. The discordance of shoes clipping into pedals shifted into a harmonious chorus of chains spinning over cassettes. I felt one with the rhythm of the field. First-lap race bliss flooded my veins. I was racing in my first men’s field, a long-time fear and goal of mine.

My apprehension kept me towards the back of the field where cyclists were quite inconsistent with speed. Going from a steady pace to quick hands on the brakes to surges, I was unsure of how to pace myself. I stayed on Lucia’s wheel for a bit until she made her way to the front. I then tried to find predictable wheels to hop on as I kept my comfortable positioning in the back.

As the field rolled up the hill on our third lap, I started to fall back. I was losing the field, and I was not going to allow myself to get dropped. So, I became a bit frantic. I sprinted to catch up and lost all regard for anything other than speed.

To my dismay, I hit the minuscule pothole that resides right at the third street entrance. I know this pothole through and through. It has become a landmark for me on my routine Prospect Park rides. To run into it at this moment felt like my body was disobeying everything I have taught it over the past year. However, this was a different circumstance. My mind was elsewhere. So, I forgave myself, rolled off course, and put in a new tube. Luckily, I was very close to home, so I brought my bike back and gave myself a little pep talk before returning to the park to cheer on my team. Ah, the pleasures and pains of bike racing.

I will say, it was enjoyable to be both an active participant in the race and a sideline observer. Ben kept the yellow jersey, so our team turnout was a success. Until next time.

Matt

Like Shaina, I told myself a few weeks ago that I was going to ease into the 2022 race season, that my fitness wasn’t where it should be, that March racing is too cold, that the season is too damn long. And yet, somehow, one month into the season, I have raced nearly EVERY, SINGLE, WEEKEND. What’s more, there have been multiple double header weekends (though in the first case I DNF’d on the start line one of those mornings thanks to a mechanical).

But here’s the thing - enthusiasm for racing can certainly be infectious. Which is the main reason I have been getting up too early every weekend to pedal in circles in Central Park and Prospect Park. And so of course, when Ben won the series opener, there was no way I wasn’t going to be on the start line for the next race in the series supporting his race leader ambitions. Turns out I wasn’t the only TBDer to feel this way, as we lined up with 10 odd racers from the men’s and women’s squad.

As for the actual racing, there isn’t much that I can add to what Ben and Shaina already said - the team raced cohesively from start to finish, with everyone making contributions at some point in the race. Race finales always involve some amount of luck, but in this instance it played out nearly perfectly with our leadout train forming shortly after we got the bell, then putting Ben in position for another podium.

After a long, fractured couple of seasons thanks to the pandemic, this was the perfect return to racing for the team, and I cannot wait to get back out there…