"It was really fun and a great course. There was a good showing of about 15 people with a great neutral start to the cattle guard by the lake. There was a lot of wind but a general tail wind to Page with some tough swirls none the less. The gravel was really deep and the road was choppy in spots so that made following wheels difficult but a group of about nine quickly formed. Lee was absolutely killing it on the front with just about every rise and the group dwindled a bit. A group of us used one of Lee's pushes and sling-shotted to a smaller group of around five or six. As we approached the Jackelyk ranch, Alan and I started to push the pace anticipating the right hand turn at Page back to the Cabin and well into the wind, desiring to create a little gap that the wind would make permanent.
I came into the turn first, followed by Alan, with a small gap to Lloyd and another small gap to Paul followed by the rest. Alan and I hit it into the wind and became a group of two. We traded pulls but Alan was taking monster pulls and doing the lion's share of the work. We paced Balok's ranch and the wind seemed to be coming from every direction-it was a real trick to get into the slipstream. As we passed Silva's ranch, I noticed that Alan was going faster and faster. The dude was crushing it! I kept seeing him drop the chain down the cassette as we made the left hander back to the lake...I wondered if he was going to run me out of gears! He was riding his road bike with a 53x11 and I had the cyclocross bike with a 46x11. There was no way I could beat him in the sprint, and now I wondered if I could even hang on as he kept ramping it up.
We blazed through the trees and down the road past the field and the lookout tower road and toward the finish line. We crossed the cattle guard and as we began the slight rise by the lake I dropped back about a bike length and drilled it. I swerved all the way over to the other shoulder and cranked it up, standing to get more power. My rear wheel was slashing from side to side so hard I feared I might have punctured, but I still continued. Cresting the hill, I dared a glance back and saw that the attack caught Alan by surprise and that a gap had formed. I continued as hard as I could all the way to the road, but man, that driveway to Cabin 34 is a long way off...it hurts!"
"I had no race experience. I had no race strategy. I knew it would be better to stay back and my plan was to stay behind Jen. Rolling out of the start I lost sight of it all and preferred to be out front instead of behind the squirrelly thin tires of Alan or the beefy quads of Llyod and Dirk. Quickly I was pawned into the rabbit, where I was crushed just before the top of the hill (I had never ridden the course this direction and only the other way once). Lung busted I tried not to pull over and puke while being passed by Jen and some others in the lead pack. Brian snuck up on a mtn bike and I tucked in to recover. Later, I was passed by the tandem mountain biking team, but was holding a short lead over Jen who I passed while working with Brian. I held it together into the wind on the final stretches, finishing in 57 minutes, feeling beat."
"The 4th, sometimes annual, Cabin 34 Roubaix promptly started at 2:14 pm under windy, yet sunny skies with a record number of riders.
The peloton remained a somewhat cohesive unit as we encountered the neutral start. The first acceleration of the day came when Lee Perlow escaped the clutches of the bunch in order to "pass a little gas." I sat on wheels and encouraged other riders with remarks such as "yeah! close the gap." Shortly after we hit the High Road, Dirk threw down what he referred to as a little "tester." The remains of the peloton bridged the gap without too much carnage.
I dragged my carcass up to Dirk and we discussed some strategy. I thought we were in agreement to let a rookie get off the front for a few miles, dangle 'em off the front in the wind, before crushing their spirit. However, this was not the case.
Dirk opened his suitcase of courage and led the peloton down the hill with reckless abandon. By Page Intersection, there was only the three of us. Dirk dove into the corner followed by Allen sliding around on his 25mm slicks. I figured Allen would slide out and I gave him a bit of space. The little bit of space turned in to an insurmountable gap as Allen pinned it after the turn. I didn't want to be stuck in the wind all by my lonesome, and I wanted to hear the rest of DeWitt's "Old Bull vs. Young Bull" story so, I sat up and waited for him.
We both shared in the effort, not concerned with catching the lead group, but thinking rather of the cold beers at the finish. When we reached the lake, conversation got a bit tense as we both thought silently about the podium spot up for grabs. Suddenly, the shadow boxing was over as Dewitt set an unbelievable tempo on the tortuous accent to the headwaters of beautiful Lake McGaffey. I burnt a few matches and barely grabbed the draft. DeWitt's enthusiasm drained on the long, windy run in to the finish. At that point I danced on the pedals in an immodest way and overtook my adversary for a highly coveted podium position."