Cherry Pie is usually the first real criterium of the season. Some of its participants have rusty (or as yet undeveloped) pack skills, thus its sarcastic nickname, "Cherry Thigh." The prize for a top five placing was a real nice cherry pie. The race was held in a variety of locations in downtown Napa, California, before being moved to the Napa Junior College in 1981.
This was my first race as a category three. When I made the step from junior to senior, I was placed in the third racing category because my skills and physical abilities were somewhat above that of an average category four racer, and well beneath that of any category two racer. I felt that I would improve my skills racing with the "threes," and that within a couple of years I would have what it took to be a two.
Attendance at the 1980 event was poor both in terms of participants and spectators due to a continuous and sometimes heavy rain. I felt that people who bailed out of races because of rain were whiners and sissies, so I found myself on the starting line with only about twenty-five others. Most of these folks seems to know each other, but few were familiar to me.
The race went pretty slowly with the exception of four guys who got away early. With half the race remaining, I couldn't believe how slow we were going. I asked the pack if anybody wanted to try to reel in the breakaway, and all I got was a bunch of naysayers, so I decided to try it alone. My mother had come to the race, and using her watch, gave me split times. Every lap, I was gaining exactly five seconds on the break and almost ten on the slow moving pack, however I really did not feel like I was going very fast.
With five laps to go, I could see the breakaway only seventeen seconds ahead of me. I got a bit anxious, so I picked up the pace. Going deep to the inside on a turn on the backside of the course, I rode through a very deep puddle in which my front wheel found a submerged object. As luck would have it, I slid on my chest on a nice oil slick before coming to a stop. My pride suffered little as nobody had seen me fall.
I noticed no damage to me or my bike, so I straightened the handlebars, and quickly got back up to speed without being spotted by what was left of the pack. As I rode by the start/finish, my mother looked puzzled and yelled, "You lost seventeen seconds!" I rode as hard as I could, and was within ten seconds of the breakaway when the race sadly (for me, anyway) came to an end. If only I had had a couple more laps...
All was not lost. I had gotten fifth place, and the knowledge that the category threes were not going to be a problem for me. I also got a steaming, warm cherry pie. My mother and I put the bike in the car, cleaned up a small wound, started the car with the heater on full blast, and then ate the entire cherry pie!