TD Bank Liberty Classic: Kacy takes her first bottle feed

My home field "advantage" for Liberty Classic probably led to more misspent energy than advantages. Three years of being a spectator built the race up as something untouchable, and the thought of actually being in it evoked that pants-peeingly scary feeling that I get before big events. Although my pre-race fears are rarely specific (the thought of giant green monsters on the course seems just as legitimate as crashing or failing to get a good result), I tried to figure out what potential outcomes freaked me out the most: 1. suffering at my lactate threshold for two and a half hours, 2. starving/dehydrating to death after missing my first attempt at taking a feed, and 3. becoming completely paralyzed in the biggest field I’d ever seen. The best preparations seemed to be Manayunk Wall repeats, a bottle-grabbing session with the Gursk, and local practice crits.

On the first lap I moved up to the front comfortably and stayed there until Main Street. The swarm came around as riders jockeyed for the Wall, and fear #3 came true quickly. I was overwhelmed and lacking the skills to get myself back into position. By the start of the climb I had slipped to the back. I passed most of the pack on the Wall and made it to the QOM line maybe 10^th wheel. My ride data showed that it was my fastest effort ever, but because I started at the back and finished not quite at the front, it was worth nothing. Lex Albrecht soloed off the front for several laps, handily taking the QOM before being reeled back in.

Having given up on any result-related goals, I shifted into survival mode and prepared to attempt my first bottle feed. Maybe I got cocky from my 100% success rate!! in the previous day’s bottle-grabbing practice, or because our buddy Justin was by far the tallest man to ever work a feed zone, but I thought this would be an easy target. I batted at the bottle, swerved, and ended up giving Justin an awkward high five. Oops. Our other feeder, Coyle, was further down the line. As fears of dehydration and starvation swept over me, I successfully grabbed the bottle. Wait a sec, the sweet taste of *not going to die* wasn’t my familiar fruit punch sports drink. I had stolen my teammate Jocelyn’s bottle! I tried to justify the theft by knowing that if I were to crash and die, she could pry the remaining energy gels off of my lifeless body and finish the race. What? No seriously, my brain was totally gone at that point.

We approached the finish, and I saw that the pack was still disappointingly large. A race that finished with a group of 18 last year would come down to a 60-woman field sprint in my first Liberty Classic. I started near the front, heard the familiar swarm behind me, and salvaged 32^nd place (going up the the side of the pack as usual). World champion Giorgia Bronzini blasted across the line, just yards ahead of the rest of us.

If I could go back and trade my many Wall repeats for weaving through a field of angry monkeys, I would. I wish I could've done better in the sprint, but I’m relieved to have survived this intimidating race without starving, major physical suffering, or being attacked by green monsters. Jocelyn didn’t die either, BTW, but finished strong in a great race for the Wasabi Warriors.