Race report: Pescadero Road Race Men’s Open 4

Race: Pescadero Road Race Men’s Open 4

Date: 07/11/2026

AVRT racers: Kyle Martin, Phillip Maier, Matthew Kessler, Brandon Pleman, Colin Vignon

Top Result: Colin (2nd)

Course: 27mi loop (x1.7), 2hrs effort, 2 short hil… wait stop. Description is useless, it’s either you know these roads very well, or you should go discover them by yourself.

Strava:/

Nutrition: pasta yogurt banana classico.

Recap (written by Colin)(of course, I got bullied):

Today’s mindset: be a sparadrap.

Oh gosh, where’s he going again? First of all, someone please stop letting me write these damn race reports. Second, I know what you’re about to ask. "What on earth is a sparadrap?"

Fair question. It’s the French word for one of those little adhesive band-aids you slap over a tiny cut. Okay, but why? Well, a sparadrap is famous for three things:

• it’s sticky (please remember this one).

• it’s thin (nobody cares). Same animal family as shrimp actually

• it is completely incapable of moving on its own, unless (unless!) it is attached to someone else (this one is very important).

Further explanation : Haddock, Tintin, the Band-Aid. Read your classics, damn!

Anyway. Enough wildlife anatomy. Today was Pesky, the AV race. Five AV riders on the start line, around fifty riders total, 4 SJBC riders, 5 Thursdays. The latter, however, still don't have matching jerseys. Considering how today's race unfolded—and since this isn't exactly the first time a squad of Thursdays has quietly infiltrated the peloton undercover—I've decided to launch a fundraiser to help them finally buy those damn kits. I’ll pick fluorescent yellow, obviously.

A few days before the race, Phillip and Matthew suggested I take the leader's role while they worked as luxury teammates. I really appreciated the gesture :). Their instructions were simple. Stick to their wheels. Stay in the field. They'll cover attacks. Unless Gary H goes, and then stick to his wheel, because he's the biggest Thursdays threat. All this being said, today, I had exactly one job:

Be sticky.

Hence the Band-Aid thing. Haaaaan (For my American friends raised on sitcom laugh tracks.)

The race starts after Kyle yells ‘The race is live!’ when passing the graveyard. He’ll soon pay for that joke, unfortunately :’(. First Stage climb feels good. The headwind keeps everyone reasonable up front. Legs feel good. (Do not say that twice. Karma is always listening.) Brandon covers one short-lived attack. We crest the climb with Phillip and Kessler near the front. We're probably among the riders who know these descents best, so global idea was that we would stay upfront for the downhills as there's always a chance to open tiny gaps.

We take the descent from the front. Well, Phillip in front, Band-Aid behind. Second stage, Gary raises the pace a bit, but nothing resembling a real breakaway. Maybe everyone actually listened to Bernardo: "Wait until Highway 84 before trying anything". Second descent. Still glued to Phillip Verstappen's wheel. Highway 84. Things are about to get interesting.

Actually, they don't. 

Nobody wants to accept responsibility. Phillip, Kessler, and a few others keep pulling anyway, mostly to make sure this race doesn't accidentally last three hours. First pass through the Highway 84 work area. "Oh hey Kevin!". First feed zone. "Oh hey folks!" And here we are.

Bottom of the first Haskins. Aaaaaah. Aha. Now we're talking.

Phillip, Matthew and I had agreed to pace the climb aiming for roughly 8’ to the finish, hoping it'd whittle the group down to maybe ten riders. Mission half accomplished. We climb it in ~7:50. Then I glance back over the top after a completely unnecessary acceleration—not like we were anywhere close to the KOM-prize anyway. Behind us? An army.

Roughly twenty people...Ushhh. Anyway. Phillip McLaren grabs pole position for the descent. Shrimp occupies the passenger seat. Excellent vibes. Small gaps appear, but nothing sticks and the pace naturally eases. Actually… It eases a lot. Here we go again. Phillip and Kessler resume their long turns on the front. We're now about twenty-five riders.

Miles, miles, miles… Back to the two Stage climbs. First climb, check. Legs feel good today!

...

Damn.

That's twice.

As in a greek tragedy, I don’t know yet things will turn tragic, but they will for sure (slightly exaggerating). Anyway. At this moment, Phillip and I understand each other without speaking, we accelerate over the top, bomb the descent, hit the second climb hard, and look back once we reach 84.

Gaps, but everyone eases off. Still, that whole sequence probably forced a few people to work closing gaps. Unfortunately Kessler was one of them after getting boxed in behind someone. Second pass on Highway 84 now.

As we approach the final climb, I quickly scan the group. Too many riders look like they might possess significantly thicker thighs than mine (which isn’t hard). Given that Haskins isn't exactly famous for its 18% gradients, that feels concerning.

Concerned – concerned – concerned… Idea!

I go ask Kessler to start drilling it from as far out as possible. Subtile, I know, thanks. Attrition. Ehe. Matthew, the 400-watt machine, powers on and I glue myself to his wheel. Ehehe.

We fly through the feed zone. "Heeey fo—" No time. Sorry. We dive into the base of Haskins in first position. Smile for Dirk's camera, by the way.

Above: 400W in motion and an opportunistic passenger. Original photo courtesy of Dirk Bergstrom, then enhanced by AI.

I think that move did exactly what we wanted. The group was already stretched before the steep gradients even began. Then, as soon as we hit the beginning of the climb, a rocket flies past us on the left. Kessler stays perfectly focused.

The rocket explodes five seconds later. Fireworks, wouhou !

Then Gary leads an entire freight train past us on the left at warp speed. Phillip occupies the third car of the train. "TAKE MY WHEEL!", yells the coach. Sir yessir!

Gary accelerates. Now I'm glued to his wheel. Matthew delivered me through the first quarter of the climb, Phillip kept things together afterward, now all I have to do is stick to Public Enemy No. 1. Again, thanks for your jobs, guys.

Uh oh. I don't feel great anymore. Karma. Every few seconds my brain desperately suggests taking one of the available escape routes (i.e., let it go, buddy, let it go). The only reason I keep going is because they did an amazing job for me. And also because Gary's breathing is getting louder and louder and that makes me feel better. But that’s less classy to tell.

I don't look back (mistake) but can still feel several riders behind us. Turns out there are about four. 500 meters to go. I don't want anyone outsprinting me. 

Concerned - concerned - concerned… Idea! 400 to go. I GO. Gary, out loud:"Oh f*ck". Eheh.

398 to go. Squeak.

Squeak? Yes, squeak, the unmistakable and terrible sound of cramps.

Okay. Maybe let's not go and sit back down. But now the little Band-Aid has no one to stick to, loses motion and falls on the ground (rule n°3 !!!). A guy comes around on the left. Shooo. I try to stay with him. He gaps me. I glance behind. Third place is quite away back. I sit down.

That's very bad. Normally this is where Hannon starts yelling at me not to stop halfway through the segment. Yes, you correctly identified an Egan situation.

Even though the AV organizers briefly tried to award me first place in the official results (looks like you learned from a certain Gianni I.), I have to decline. The other guy — who, naturally, happens to be a Thursdays— was stronger. Sorry I couldn't quite finish the job you did for me ☹️

All this being said, if you ever see a sad and abandoned Band-Aid on the shoulder near the top of Haskins, that’s just me.

A thousand thanks to all the volunteers that made that race happen, in such an amazing place. I feel very lucky to have had the chance to experience that. A thousand thanks to AV community for all these great rides I’ve taken part in this year and everyone’s great mindset. It might be my last race here (or not, if incapable of selling the bike before flying back mid-August)(btw, Giant TCR Advanced Pro 2 - size 54, anyone??), so I'd rather thank everyone now, especially those I may not have the chance to see again. 

Wait, it sounds a little dramatic. I’m just flying back to France. Let me know if you end up going there and need a guide—if only to finally help you get what you originally ordered at the bakery or any restaurant (we clearly do struggle with English).