Short Track #7 : Super Relax

Title comes from my current favorite bike jersey - with bright happy colors and talking acorns, it reads "SUPER RELAX" and "have a rest" on both front and back. It's an attitude I like.

Been out in the middle of gorgeous California for the past week - camping/backpacking in the Trinity Alps. (It's beautiful, I can't lie.) Sunburns and trail food and insects hatching like mad, plus some osprey and many bats and, don't tell Mom, a bear. (But a I see you and I'm leaving bear, the best kind.)

So - no race last week. This week - back late Saturday, flop aboot Portland on Sunday, eat soup and garden and make gardendinner and bottle delicious beer.

Then comes Monday - what? - back to work, also racing?

Funny how over the last six weeks, short track has gone from an all-day-long obsession, me nauseous and nervous and panicky - to a thing that I remember at about 3:45, Hmm... I should probably grab my stuff and change at some point.

Rode out to the track this week, over the top of the Steel Bridge (fun!) and all the way up Interstate. Sunshine, impatient traffic whatever, singing Paul Simon songs (incidents and accidents!) - makes for a perfect warm-up.

Get out to PIR, sign in, run into Ed, and Fool, and Beth, and Rob - say some hellos, deflate my tires a bit, do a lap.

The course - is short. Is fun. Is challenging. There's ups, there's turns, there's some serious drops - and a double-decker hill that will likely need some walkin'. There's rutted parts, which are a bit sketchy. (Or rather, on which I am a bit sketchy.) It's hot, dusty, there are kids everywhere [be patient] and SuperMegaFastPants adults [be patient].

And it's all... just fine. Yes, it'll be hard. But it's fun. And it's fun in the dirt.

And, hey, there's Ben! ... and it's time to line up, beginners...

Ben and Fool and Ed take off for their race, me/Rob/Paul/Caroline/Steph as the cheering section, first-round. Ed seems to disappear for a bit (turns out he took a nasty fall - thanks to some Jake-riding by a fellow beginner), Fool braves his first singlespeed mtb race, Ben rocks the dust and the amazing Japanese robot shirt and zips past folks left/right.

Go go go! You can do it! Keep it up! Yeeeeah!

And the line is building behind the start for the Cat 2/singlespeed race - so off we go. Beth and Shawn and I chatter, concoct plans for winning our races (as always!), become excited about riding bicycles, try to find our fellow ss-ladies in the crowd.

Off go the ss men ...

... off go the Cat 2 men ...

... and the announcer talks to us a bit about upcoming cycling things (go to the Twilight Crit! Watch the roadies crash!) (Shawn turns to me and makes disapproving noises of such mean-ness) (Also, Cross is starting soon! Ready, ladies?)...

... and we're off!

Dusty fast cough cough pick a line hey you stay over there spin spin up the hill ... hard left and dust dust where are we going cough squint ow sun pedal pedal through the ruts and turn pedal cough cough cough ...

... and, as the dustcloud races off, I fall happily back into the Dooley way - the girl who grinningly shouts "Let's go ride bikes!" and isn't always obsessed with being the fastest.

So - a lovely bike ride had I, in the middle of folks very intent on having a serious bike race.

Don't get me wrong - I was working hard, taking the moguls as fast as I could, wondering at my headset integrity as I hit big bumps (observation: crunchy in a possibly bad way), swooping through turns and negotiating the deep muddy bits with great intention, pushing it up hills and softpedaling nothing.

But - the difference - no anxiety about who was in front of me (most) or behind me (few).

No panic about not showing up in an appropriately fast way or not sufficiently crushing someone/something, proving or impressing. Just a good, hard, dusty, sweaty, sweet-jesus-where's-the-water, hellYEShills, wheeeeeee! - bike ride.

Trying damn hard, and enjoying myself - and this was enough. (This is good, as most of the women in my category could smoke me while sleeping; I see all of them at the start, and that's it for most of the race.)

And the fast kids would swoop up behind me, and I'd pull over a bit to let 'em go past (having heard enough from the peanut gallery about slow riders and not wanting to make the officials look too critically at pace and start pruning folks from our category).

Whatever, senor - go get your fast friend there. I'm enjoying this silica bath and these WHEEEE obstacles WHEEE.

I heard the last lap bell at a too-early-spot - and figured I was behind the rest of the class. (Gold and silver groups go outside for special fun time... brown group, go to the basement for extra help time.)

And, sure enough - I finished a lap behind most of the rest of the ss women's field, retaining my title as Princess Penultimate.

I also finished with dirt in my teeth (not kidding), and had quite the lovely bike ride. WIN.

Beth caught us all after the race and thanked us kindly for our support of the category, with letters of 'gracias' for all. Shawn headed off to volunteer, Ben and I headed back to the stands to munch and sip and chatter with folks. We ended up staying through the end of the evening, spectating the relay race (great fun!) and watching the awards.

In the singlespeed women's overall -- one Shawn Postera took first (an announcement that seemed to surprise her). She showed up every week, in a skirt, and rode the hell out of a bike still boasting a rack - fast, grinny, good-natured, with kneesocks. Yeah, Shawn!

On the podium below her were other certifiably fast ladies (kudos to Susan and Sharon!). Beth and Ben and I whooped and hollered for all the one-geared dames, each caught a pair of socks or some coffee, picked a prize from the raffle table - and headed home in the dark dark night, part of a long parade of red-light'ed butts heading up N Interstate.

I re-learned a lesson in blood sugar on the ride home, but thankfully had some trailfood still in my bag to avoid biting innocent bystanders. Up to Matchbox for late happy hour, delicious beer and mouth-watering burger, eaten while still wearing the silly diaper-pants.

Slept like a baby, feeling a bit worn today - but happy, and capable-strong, nevermind the not-winning (um, I won).

Next up - short track state championships, maybe. Or wait for cross, perhaps warm up with the Kermesse - and keep the straight bars? Convert to drop bars? Or just borrow tires from Rob and call it good enough, with a bike newly-outfitted with hott orange grips to match my colorway. Ha!

Series round up -- A BIG! thanks to Beth Hamon for being the noisy chain, the squeaky wheel, and the vociferous lady who made this all happen - I wouldn't have come out as much, if at all, without the feeling of team and community that she created. Gracias to the short-track cheering section (Rob, Ed, Steph, Paul, Caroline, Brad, Kim, Celeste, Margaux, Chris, Joel), with special kudos to Ben for coming out first as cheering section ... and then as official racey-pants.