A win and out for those that haven’t raced one, is a 7 lap race where the first three laps don’t score. On the fourth lap whoever wins the sprint wins the race and can withdraw, then who ever wins the second sprint wins second and can withdraw. I think you can figure out how 3rd and 4th are determined.
This was the sprint event for the last night of FNWTR and I needed to win it to have a chance of moving from 3rd to first on the last night. Here is what unfolded…
Here we are all rolling out in the first lap, me in the red, second wheel.
Here I am on the front for the second lap, I swing up at the next bank and drop back a couple to get out of the wind.
To catch everyone by suprise my tactic from the begining of the race was to go early before anyone else had the chance. And riding a 98" gear, I still had plenty of jump hitting the gas at 45-50 and can usually hold it at full tilt for about two to twoand a half laps.
So I decide to go as we’re crossing the line for lap the begining of lap 3. (The blue helmet to my right is the series leader)
I was told after the race I put about 30m in them before anyone started to close the gap, but remember I still have to hold it for another 400m…
.
.
.
.
…
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Here is the finish line photo for the first sprint:
FUCK!
Just Look at the smug bastard even poking his tounge out at me…
Just kidding, he’s actually a really nice guy and seriously out raced me (hence he went on to win the series). He told me after the race that he new I was going to go for the first sprint and was just waiting to grab my wheel, but didn’t expect me to go anywhere near as early as I did. ie my tactics were sound, but he’s in training for the World Track Masters (which are next week) and had enough fitness to chase me down, hold my wheel and come round me.
OK, I lost the first sprint, I’ve still got 4 lengths on the feild and a bit of fuel in the tank. Fuck it, I’m going for Second…
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
…
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
It’s just not my night:
DOUBLE FUCK!
At this point my legs are so close to exploding it’s not funny.
Ahhhhhh bugger it, you only live once and I’ve got about 10 lengths on the field after the last guts out lap. LET’S GO AGAIN!!
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
…
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
What’s a guy gotta do?
As I’m crossing the line I think I was only doing about 35-40k’s I was that blown and it was pretty much momentum that carried me the last half of the lap.
After this I blew up completely and rolled back to the infield and had trouble talking/seeing straight for about 5mins afterwards. I ended up holding on for 4th in the Div 3 pointscore which I was pretty happy with for my first season at the track and started in Div 5. I’ll be back next year to have another crack for sure.
So Boys and Girls, that’s how you [b]don’t race a Win and Out!