A few days before the race, Portland Sportsman’s Mike Merrill asked if I would be interested in both covering the race and competing myself. I said yes to the writing part and no to the racing part. It wasn’t because the Cirque doesn’t offer a women’s field – I jumped in the men’s category 3/4 race back in 2008 along with only one other woman – but more the fact that I was looking forward to camping out at Por Que No and sampling their margaritas while watching the races. Armed with some friends who were as dedicated to the margarita sampling as myself, I spent Saturday evening doing all the hard work that bike racing reporting requires in addition to margarita drinking: taking pictures of the back tires of racers as they flew by, squinting into the sun and trying to pick out who was who and cheering for people I thought I knew, only to find out they weren’t actually in the race. No one said this would be easy.

Stephanie Chase/Portland Sportsman

People often ask me if discerning who’s where and what in a peloton is difficult. This is about the same as me asking a hockey announcer if they have a hard time figuring out where the puck is or asking as a baseball announcer how they manage to not fall asleep during games. You just get a knack for looking at body shape, uniforms and posturing, and somehow it’s all interesting and not the least bit pervy. For the previous two outings, Steven Beardsley of the fantastically-named Gentle Lovers squad had won the Pro 1/2 race along with teammate Pete Groblewski serving as the runner-up both times. Last year Beardsley had quite a run-up to his win at Cirque du Cycling with that victory coming in the midst of a two week win rampage. Beardsley had entered a race almost every other day and won almost all of them. But that was 2009 and this year the Rubicon-ORBEA benefiting the Lance Armstrong Foundation was certain to put up a strong showing along with other teams such as HP Chiro, Guinness and some other characters.

The men’s category 3 race kicked off at 5 pm and soon after I settled at a table armed with a notebook (for penning profound insights and witty captions about the race), a camera (for the aforementioned back wheel pictures), my Blackberry (for making sure I was able to connect to Facebook and see what people were posting after their race) and a pomegranate margarita. By the start of the Pro 1/2 race I had drank one margarita, taken no pictures and written one incomplete sentence. But I blame my less than desirable recording of the race not on the drinks but on the fact that Por Que No is situated right at one of the more interesting parts of the race course. The Mississippi circuit is like a elongated figure eight with eight forty-five degree turns and two long straightaways. The turns serve to start fracturing the group; take a bad line, get stuck towards the back of the peloton, etc., and you’ll be playing catch-up as the front of the race heads out of the turn and begins accelerating on the straightaways. It’s like a game of “crack the whip” with your heart rate above threshold. But while the turns might start to break things up, it was the three-block long straightaways that solidified any moves. With Por Que No situated right at the start of the the straightaways, we watched racers launch attacks down the street and the tried to cheer the stragglers at the back to catch up and get back onto the group. Most of these cheers were directive, as in “the front of the race is up there! (insert enthusiastic gesticulating with drink in hand) Get up there!” I am sure it was well appreciated because by the next lap a good portion of those racers had taken our advice and moved more towards the front, where it’s safer and you can actually contest anything that goes off.

Of course the corners and the technical nature of the course mean things can go very wrong very quickly. The Pro 1/2 field lived through a couple of crashes that also sifted out the field but hopefully didn’t injure anyone too badly. Over halfway through the race with a four-man breakaway successfully away and their teammates content to not let any chasing happen, the leaders relaxed enough to enjoy the shenanigans of the spectators. Imagine the skill it takes to successful smack a row of bare bottoms while riding your bike around 30 mph. Impressive, to say the least!

Mike Merrill/Portland Sportsman

With less than ten minutes to go, it was apparent that Beardsley’s third title was out of reach. His teammate Sam Nicoletti (the 2009 Oregon criterium champion) was in the break along with Rubicon-Orbea’s Quinn Keogh, HP Chiro’s Donald Reeb and Team Exergey’s Austin Arguello, meaning that all their teammates (making up a large portion of the remaining racers) were not going let anyone try to bridge up or chase the leaders down. Now it was coming down to a waiting game. Start the sprint prematurely, and much like anything else that you might preface with the word “premature,” you’ll end up disappointed and wheezing. Wait too long and the playing field gets a little more level raising your chances of missing out on a good finish. Nicoletti started things off with Arguello tucked in behind him but the OBRA champ hadn’t put enough distance between himself and his competitors to make it a sure thing. But no one ever said VO2 max was a place of rational and calm analyzing. Nicoletti threw his hands up at the finish only to realize Keough had thrown this bike (not literally, but throwing one’s bike consists of pushing bike forward to garner any extra inches on the line), and beaten him. It was a close call. Keogh, Nicoletti and Arguello were 2010 Cirque du Cycling podium with Reeb in fourth.