To many, the Menlo Park Criterium means that the racing season will soon be coming to a close. For some, it means a chance to show off their fitness before the crowds go away. The 1980 edition of the Menlo Park Criterium was no different, and its short half mile flat rectangular course was packed with spectators.
The star of my team was Calvin Trampleasure. He was a classic roadie who had some beef on his bones, yet had unimaginable endurance. When he won the district road race championship, he made it look so very easy, riding away from everybody else with thirty miles to go on a grueling course. He then spent time in Europe racing with the best of them, and could transfer some of his new skills into criterium racing.
Early in the race of the day, Calvin and three other riders got away. I attempted to slow the pace of the pack, but my efforts were countered by those tactically superior. Fortunately, the breakaway members worked very well together, and with a few laps to go in the race, they lapped the pack. My concern for Calvin was that one of the four riders in the break was Robert Ford, a sprinter who could rarely be beaten. Feeling a bit guilty for having been an ineffective teammate earlier in the race, I told Calvin that I would do everything that I could for him, despite my having an upper respiratory infection caused by an herbicide that had been sprayed on the running track at my college.
I knew what to do, and I knew what Calvin wanted me to do; they were one and the same. We met up with a couple of laps to go, and it was a good thing that little needed to be said because things were quickly getting hot. Paul Mittelstat had the misfortune to connect with a "No Parking" sign, and as my mind momentarily wandered, I heard Calvin quietly say to me from behind, "Don't let it bother you." Calvin stayed glued to my hindquarters, and I found a great spot at the front, more through dumb luck than from any great skill on my part. We were ready.
The front of the pack was gutter to gutter with no holes to be filled, and it slowly accelerated to a wonderful crescendo. I knew that the sprinters would have a hard time with this mess, and brutally forced the pace the last half of the bell lap. All of the other riders at the front did their best to match my efforts with the pleasant result that the sprinters were boxed in. With less than one hundred meters to go, the fellow on one side of me moved away a little bit, I signalled to Calvin and moved the other way just a few inches, and Calvin managed to fill the hole.
Robert Ford, the most talented sprinter, had been reading it all, but had been horribly boxed in. He forced an opening on my other side and started to come around, but was running out of steam due to all of his previous efforts. I gave everything I had, and not only did I hold off Calvin on one side and Robert on the other, I held off the entire pack! Wow! Calvin beat Robert by just a couple of inches; I had done my job very well. It was remarkable to bear witness to a successful Race Across America contestant outsprinting one of the best trackies in the land.
In no time I began to feel dizzy because of my upper respiratory infection. After our brief warm down lap, I quickly found my way to a bench and began to lose consciousness. As I started to fall asleep, I heard something about awards, and was soon being carried like a baby. People were laughing at me, and I realized that I was being carried by Jan Causey; at 6'3" and 185 pounds, one of the scariest women on wheels. Fortunately, I remember little after that...