Laarne

I am on a roll...an unlucky roll.
Laarne was another elite race, but the first race since arriving that offered the true exposure to grit racing I remember from years past. The course was half two to four lane roads and half field roads with many tight corners and a couple on sketchy sandy flagstones. With 19 laps to complete for a total of 133 km, gusting winds and only 51 starters it was going to be a rough day. I felt good the first couple of hours, staying for the most part out of trouble. I tried to stay as close to the front as possible without catching too much wind, but even sitting 10th wheel there were gaps opening up constantly as the speeds for the first half of the race were extremely high for such a small group hitting over 60 km/hr in the cross winds at times. Eventually a group of about 6 got away and the attacks and gaps kept coming with no real changes in the bunch. With about 60 km to go I attacked and made the biggest tactical mistake so far this year. I took one guy with me who I didn't recognize and we got a gap within seconds. We then turned into the headwind and I could feel the effort immediately, I thought conservatively and eased off as I saw that the peleton was chasing and waited to see if a counter attack would go and then get in a stronger move. As it turned out, after I was caught the other rider dangled off the front for a lap and then was joined a group of 3, staying away and finishing 12th, if only I had gone for it then. With about 50 km to a started to feel the efforts of the challenging conditions and missed a move of another 8 guys. Eventually I ended up in a group of 6 with 21 riders up the road. It was not a good situation and I was pretty distraught that I had messed up the race. I started to feel worse and worse and couldn't hold the wheel of the rider in front of me when the group started to go for it entering the last lap. I got dropped, rode the last lap solo and finished 28th. As I crossed the finish line and started to slow down I could hear a buzzing sound and the clank of a broken wheel. Turns out I broke a nipple on my rear Fulcrum and the wheel was rubbing the brakes and only about 1/3 of a mm from rubbing the frame. I stopped to find that the wheel wouldn't even turn one revolution when I tried to spin it, no wonder I felt bad! I remember in the race that some guys yelled something at me that I didn't understand and that I started to feel considerably worse with about 50 km to go, so my best guess is that I rode the last 50 km with the wheel rubbing the brakes. Two races in a row with mechanicals, I have served my time.
Interestingly enough the race was on the 13th and my start number was none other than 13...