Boulevard Road Race 2023 From the Gun. Alone. Again.
Boulevard isn’t a race you “manage.” It’s a race you survive a SoCal classic carved into open country where the road never really lets you settle, the wind always has an opinion, and the course punishes hesitation. The kind of day where you don’t wait for the race to start… because the race starts the moment the flag drops.
So that’s exactly what I did.
The plan: make it inevitable
I came in knowing two things:
- The course rewards commitment more than tactics.
- If you let Boulevard turn into a chess match, you’ll be reacting all day.
I didn’t want to react. I wanted to decide.
When the gun went off, I went with it.
No soft roll-out. No “let’s see who’s here.” Just pressure from the first pedal stroke the kind of move that forces everyone to answer a simple question: Are you ready to suffer right now?
Two laps. One rider.
The first lap was about establishing the gap and breaking the elastic before it could snap back. Boulevard’s terrain is brutal in a specific way: it doesn’t offer long, steady climbs where you can find rhythm. It’s a sequence of punches, false flats, and exposed sections where the wind turns every decision into a cost.
Early on I could feel the hesitation behind that half-second of doubt that grows into ten seconds, then thirty, then a minute. The moment I sensed that, I committed harder.
I rode it like a time trial with consequences.
Through every technical section, every rise, every stretch where the road tilts just enough to drain the legs I kept the effort high and the cadence honest. No drifting. No bargains. Just execution.
By the second lap, the course wasn’t just the opponent it was my ally. Boulevard starts to make people ask for mercy, and I made sure there was none to be found. The wind, the heat, the constant changes in gradient… it all became part of the strategy: keep it relentless, keep it uncomfortable, keep it clean.
The mental game: stay sharp when it hurts
Solo is a different kind of pain. There’s no wheel to hide behind, no teammate to share the load, no moment where the race pauses. It’s you, your breathing, the road noise, and the math in your head.
Gap checks.
Corners.
Bottle timing.
Power spikes.
Settle.
Spill it again.
And then the most dangerous part of any breakaway: when you start to believe it’s yours.
That’s when you get caught.
So I didn’t let up. I treated every minute like the group was ten seconds behind, even when the gap was safer. Because Boulevard has a way of flipping the script if you give it an opening.
The finish: earned, not gifted
When the final kilometers came, I wasn’t racing riders anymore I was racing fatigue, focus, and the little voice that tries to negotiate. I kept it pinned, stayed aero where it mattered, and rode the line like it was a pursuit.
Crossing the finish solo again was pure confirmation: the move was right, the legs were right, and the decision to go from the gun was exactly what the course demanded.
Boulevard Road Race champion for the second time.
Not by waiting.
Not by hoping.
By committing.
Takeaway
Some wins come from timing. Some come from patience. Boulevard is different.
Boulevard is a race you win by choosing violence early and then having the discipline to hold it when it gets ugly.
2023 was two laps of that truth.
Endure we do.