Walton and I were having way too much fun bothering the young and talented pro tour rider from Garmin, Lachlan Morton, before the start of the second Red Hook Crit in Barcelona to get anything right. We accidentally swapped our timing chips, we were late to the bike check in, and then ticked off Dave Trimble when we showed up to the start without getting our bikes checked. We topped it all off by riding too big of a gear for the qualifier.

Eventually, we got everything sorted. But it was a good reminder that this event, which used to feel more like an underground alley cat than a professional calibre criterium, has grown and matured in many ways. It felt more serious then some of the national level criteriums I have raced in the states on my road bike. I think this is good—the hype of this race has finally been matched by the organization and there is a lot on the line in terms of blood, cash and glory.

So, thanks to Walton setting a scorching fast qualifier with my timing chip, I had a good second-row starting position. But before you cry foul, I totally biffed my start, missing my pedal and smashing my nuts on my saddle. Great. I finally got my shit together and was probably 40th wheel of 95 for the first lap.

I start moving up and I am feeling okay. Then I can see there is a rider off the front. I start freaking out a little, as I know Walton and I wanted to be the ones attacking. So I start taking risks to move up. I was still riding safe—leaving plenty of room between me and other riders as I had already maneuvered through multiple crashes at this point, but I was taking corners inside and fast. Eventually, I reached my limit around 10 to go and washed out on the second u-turn on the course. I got up, shoved the GoPro into my skin suit, and started to ride.

At this point I had to make a decision. Do I chase, with the possibility that I may have damaged my bicycle or body in a way that could endanger me or other riders? Or do I say fuck it, rally hard, and chase like a maniac? After confirming that the rattling on my bike was just from the broken GoPro mount and not the result of a broken spoke or anything serious, I chased like a goddamn maniac. It was rad. There was blood making my bars warm and slippery and I could take the corners as fast as iI wanted because I was alone. It was the most fun part of the race for me. MASH is a small project, made up of a hardcore, tight-knit group of dedicated people. It wasn’t about letting down some abstract corporate sponsor if I dropped out of the race. It wasn’t about letting anyone down. It was about keeping the stoke high, rallying for my friends, and making this shit happen.

Around 5 to go, I caught back on. At this point it was kind of bunching because no one wanted to commit to chasing the rider up front, making it a little tricky to move up. Finally, it strung out and I started moving up. In the last u-turn, the same one I crashed on, guys went ballistic, sprinting all out. I felt a little uncomfortable, for obvious reasons. I went in probably 12th wheel, and then boom, bang, bummer. Walton, who was around 4th wheel, gets pushed wide by some dangus who can’t corner on a track bike. Walton, the rider who biffed it, and another rider got shafted, and I was lucky enough to be on the inside, safe and pissed off. I came around one other rider who faded in the finishing sprint to end up 5th.

It sucked to see Walton get crashed out. He had a fantastic qualifier, he hadn’t crashed earlier, and he was within the top 10 for the whole race. He did everything right and I did everything wrong. It just goes to show how dangerous and unpredictable this format of racing is. You have to be lucky and willing to take any opportunity that presents itself.

Kyle Murphy