So, you ride a great race. You stay out of trouble and tucked in the bunch. You cover a couple attacks to show that you’re willing to work and to avoid the post-finish line snide remarks (”Dude, that guy just sat in the entire time and didn’t work at all. What an…). You hammer to fight for good position going into the last critical corner, knowing that a touch of the brakes will end your race. You’re sixth wheel going into the final corner—in other words, perfect position. You know that you don’t have a sprinters’ profile so when you come out of the corner’s apex you rise out of the saddle and hit it hard, intending to bury yourself for the last 750 meters in hopes of surprising the sprinters—your only chance at victory. But then your chain comes off and your race is over. Yeah, so that’s how it went today.