Getting up before the sun's out, when it's raining, on a Sunday, for a day of standing around in the rain and mud, riding your bike in rain in the mud, or standing around soaked after doing same... wait, who said this was a good idea?
After a bit of mishap (read: missed MAX), Ben and I both made it out in time for the Beginner Men's race. I dropped my bag at the BTA tent and ran off to the start line, to see Tomas rocking a loaned Litespeed (whee-whew!), Rob on the trusty Kona, Ben with his cross-tire'd Klein.
It poured just before the race, making the course beyond-soggy - but the sun mercifully shone for most of the race itself. Ed and Tom and I cheered on our team mates (more on team - ahem - loose unofficial collective - Slow forthcoming) through a long race of much, much mud.
It poured just before the race, making the course beyond-soggy - but the sun mercifully shone for most of the race itself. Ed and Tom and I cheered on our team mates (more on team - ahem - loose unofficial collective - Slow forthcoming) through a long race of much, much mud.
Rob joined us cheering after the second lap, as he fell prey to a deep pothole on the course - one of many riders to pinch flat over the course of the day. (Advantage of racing at 2pm? They tell you these things...) Always disappointing to DNF, but maybe particularly when it wasn't your doing? ... Tomas and Ben both rode well, battling a big field and a lot of mud. (Results up tomorrow, perhaps - Ben started @ the back of the pack [free beer!], Tomas a bit ahead I think?)
Ed joined the Men's C's this time, battling - again - bad weather, serious mud, and a Crusade-sized field. I'd say he rode damn well, but then again, this is Ed The Randonneur, and Ed The Guy Who Ran To The Summit Of Larch Mtn With His Bike Over Snow, and Ed Who Races Mt Tabor Fixed. Ed kinda rides the hell out of bikes.
Between the Men's C's and the women's races... there was a lot of time, mud, and serious precipitation (non-Portland-style, which is to say, dedicated RAIN, none of this NW emo "eh, I'm kinda spitting" noise). Plenty much to psych a girl out of racing - big crowds of intimidating folks, a scary as heck course (Mud! Oh No!), chilly and abundant rain, and... well, and I'm tired and cold and racing makes me nervous. Wah!
(There was some whining. Thanks for listening, patient people...)
With a break in the anxiety for Kiddie Kross (so cute! so exciting to see kids on bikes so small!), it was somehow nearing my race-time... the singlespeed men headed out in the mud (Go Joel Go!) and down came the rain, pouring pouring pouring. Eeeek. Tom pulled a trainer out of his van so I could warm up in the BTA tent; Erinne went to walk the course and ended up getting caught in the downpour...
...and then - it's that time. Up to the start line/herding area/numbers with a passal of other ladies, enough categories packed into a single race that the announcer (poor guy!) had a heck of a time keeping us all straight in the line-up. There was the standard nervous-start-line-joking amongst racers. I watched Shawn and Beth take off with their age categories, and had the good fortune to start in the second number group this time (vs. penultimate!).
In the confusion of category-shuffle... we were somehow going all of a sudden?
Crap ... pedal pedal pedal mud mud mud MUD... go go go...
The course, in a nutshell: Flat. Muddy. As in ... with some lakes. (A handful of spots [who can count while racing?] where the water is both wide and DEEP. Not puddles. Lakes.)
And mud that was more like, say, brownie batter, than a mud puddle? Thoroughly churned, the kind of stuff that eats Artex - if you lose your faith and/or mental "go" - it'll stop you.
There were two barriers - a pair of planks on an uphill muddy run-up - which, by the time the women raced, was a deep slog - and a big concrete platform between two mud-water-lakes. (Ride, dismount, step UP - walk some feet, step DOWN - remount...) Crusade organizer Rick Potestio on the run-up planks? "Yeah, that's a shin-buster..."
The first lap was by far the hardest for me - sure, the pack's more together, and one is, perhaps, more preoccupied with not being passed by all of one's peers - but the mud was also really intimidating. (Without pictures, words are failing - this mud was thick. And it was plentiful. Think manna-from-heaven quantities.)
Intimidating until... I realized: this is not malicious mud. This is not grab-your-wheel, pull-you-down, never-let-you-go, trap-you mud. This is the answer-to-multitasking mud; this is the pause-mud that slows you down and requires absolutely all of your attention. And all of your go.
So... push push push through the mud. Don't think about falling, don't think about slowing - just push push push. Watch your lines. Watch other riders. (Get passed by some. Pass some. Lather/rinse/repeat.) Ride whooping through the lakes. Take the barriers with geriatric speed and grace (ha!). Ride gingerly on the shifty mud, and then when you're back on pavement, spin out your little low-geared wonder of a mtb.
Cheers around the course were abundant - from other racers (Beth/I exchanged hurrahs; Erinne encouraged me as she sped past) and the sidelines alike. Tom, Rob, Ed, Tomas, Joel, Ben were scattered across the crowd - but there were also whoops for "yeah ladies" and "yeah singlespeed" and variations on Michigan themes (boo State, yea State, etc). (My favorite line = the title of this post, from an enthusiastic woman on the hilltop.)
The mud was hard. The lines were hard. The obstacles were killing me. But I felt like I was riding well, and riding not-totally-slow ... Coming into my final lap I got the distinct sensation that my lungs were filled with mud or some similar slurry - I promised myself a drink and focused back on the business of being upright, don't think about ease-of-breathing... Go...
Intimidating until... I realized: this is not malicious mud. This is not grab-your-wheel, pull-you-down, never-let-you-go, trap-you mud. This is the answer-to-multitasking mud; this is the pause-mud that slows you down and requires absolutely all of your attention. And all of your go.
So... push push push through the mud. Don't think about falling, don't think about slowing - just push push push. Watch your lines. Watch other riders. (Get passed by some. Pass some. Lather/rinse/repeat.) Ride whooping through the lakes. Take the barriers with geriatric speed and grace (ha!). Ride gingerly on the shifty mud, and then when you're back on pavement, spin out your little low-geared wonder of a mtb.
Cheers around the course were abundant - from other racers (Beth/I exchanged hurrahs; Erinne encouraged me as she sped past) and the sidelines alike. Tom, Rob, Ed, Tomas, Joel, Ben were scattered across the crowd - but there were also whoops for "yeah ladies" and "yeah singlespeed" and variations on Michigan themes (boo State, yea State, etc). (My favorite line = the title of this post, from an enthusiastic woman on the hilltop.)
The mud was hard. The lines were hard. The obstacles were killing me. But I felt like I was riding well, and riding not-totally-slow ... Coming into my final lap I got the distinct sensation that my lungs were filled with mud or some similar slurry - I promised myself a drink and focused back on the business of being upright, don't think about ease-of-breathing... Go...
Through the mud, around the turns, through the looong mud stretch, some lakes, more turns... playing some bit of cat-and-mouse with other beginner women. Push push push... concrete tabletop... go go go... horrid run-up and barriers... gentle on that mud... around the hairpin... down the tricky return-hill... and hit that pavement and GO. Last stretch!
"Pass her!" shouted a sideline-guy... "Uh... pass all of them!"
I don't get it - I don't have sprint gearing. I don't have gears. I have gear. Uno.
...and I passed three? ladies in that short final straightaway. Crossed the finish line, rode a bit, pulled off the course, and leaned over my bike, politely waiting for whatever was stepping on my sternum to stop. When my lungs worked normally, I headed back to the BTA tent and greeted the crew (ya'll are fantastic cheerleaders, thank you).
Erinne kicked ass (of course); we marvelled at how. incredibly. muddy. we both were. (The entire length of my legs was mud. Yes, under my spandex.) Clothes were changed, race-talk and snacks and beers were had (thank you guy at Laurelwood tent). We slowly dispersed - to birthday parties or social things but mostly to the idea of hot showers and cold beers.
I'll be checking the results obsessively tomorrow like some majority of the rest of the racers. But, unlike the last Blind Date, I feel like I rode really well - as smart, and as strong, as I could, given the circumstances.
So - to bed, stiff and sore - but satisifed. As always, thanks to the network of people who get me out there - Beth, the BTA crew (Susan, Tom, Joel et al.), and Team Slow - Rob, Ed, Tomas, Erinne, and Ben - who gets extra points for dealing with me both pre-coffee and pre-/post-race.
Erinne kicked ass (of course); we marvelled at how. incredibly. muddy. we both were. (The entire length of my legs was mud. Yes, under my spandex.) Clothes were changed, race-talk and snacks and beers were had (thank you guy at Laurelwood tent). We slowly dispersed - to birthday parties or social things but mostly to the idea of hot showers and cold beers.
I'll be checking the results obsessively tomorrow like some majority of the rest of the racers. But, unlike the last Blind Date, I feel like I rode really well - as smart, and as strong, as I could, given the circumstances.
So - to bed, stiff and sore - but satisifed. As always, thanks to the network of people who get me out there - Beth, the BTA crew (Susan, Tom, Joel et al.), and Team Slow - Rob, Ed, Tomas, Erinne, and Ben - who gets extra points for dealing with me both pre-coffee and pre-/post-race.
you basically just wrote what i went through in my race, too (Wbeg).
ReplyDeletei will say that this is the first race i didn't hate my life doing. barlow thrashed me.
-fairlight