Ahh Fuck. That's what's going through my mind right now. I wish I was one of those confident people, man that would be awesome. No, I'm neurotic. I've hidden it since my first race, you don't want your competition see your weakness, they are a ruthless and cutthroat lot. You show them where you don't feel good and they will eat you and shat you out the back, (pun semi intended.) So you put on a stoic face, and soldier on keeping the pain inside, that is unless you're Jens Voight, because then you'll just slaughter your competition into dust. That's not in my skill set though. My skill set is hold on till I can't anymore and then attack.
So what? Here I sit, in that nervous state that precedes any race. It will only grow from here, I'll toss and turn all night and wake up groggy. Then as the race gets closer it will reach a feverish pitch of overwhelming dread. Then the starter lets us go and within one pedal stroke everything changes. In a matter of seconds nothing else matters, except for the wheel in front of mine, the gap that's opening up. Should I move up? Yes, I should definitely move up. Should I push the pace, or should I just let it stay slow. No, if I'm resting so is everyone else. Off the front I go.
Did I breakaway? I can't see past the rider behind me! I'm either doing something good, or I'm pulling the field. Oh well, either way I'm sure making someone hurt. The next turn I can see that I'm pulling the pack. I flick my elbow out and pull off to sit in the back. I've done my part to liven up the race. Should I go for the primes? My legs do feel good. I won't go for the money (everyone goes for those), I'll go for the lesser ones. They are much easier and less effort.
Ok one lap to go. Get to the front. I don't know if I have the energy to do this, ok if I finish strong I can have a whole pizza and that gelato. I must, I'm much to close. I made it to the front, I'm committed, I'm here I have to give it a go. 500 meters to go, 400, wait for it, 300, way to early, 250, Please no one jump, 200, GO!!!!