I showed Cody this picture and all he could do was make fun of my Alfalfa hair . . .
Ahhh, Nor'easter Cross. What can I possibly have to say about my first DFL at a UCI race? I know, I'm as surprised as the next person to realize that I've never come in last at a UCI race before! But that streak is, alas, over.
I think the cosmos were trying to warn me not to go - I'd felt wiped out the whole week, not really training at all, then, at 10 the night before the girl I was going to carpool with texted me that she was bailing. Not to be deterred, I got up nice and early on race day (did I mention it's a 4 hour drive to Burlington, VT?) to take a shower, and when I was toweling off my hair I heard a crunch and my neck got all out of whack. Again, I persevered, loading up the car, eating breakfast, etc. The drive up wasn't too bad, all in all. Got out for a couple laps on course and, erm, it was really muddy. I mean, look at the pictures on Cyclingnews or wherever, it was muddy. And it was the kind of mud that is really, really hard to ride through. You keep turning the pedals but you're pretty much not moving. And there were two long sandpits. Of the running variety. I mean, it was a fun course and all, but at this point my perspective has been distorted by what a dreadful race I had. Anyway, got on my trainer for a little warm up, and when I climbed down to get ready to race my head started throbbing. Like, instant onset headache. At this point I'm thinking, "God damnit, I drove 4 hours to get up here and I'm going to race and finish in the money!" Which, props to Adam Myerson, the Verge series, and the race promotor, was equal for the men and women for the 15 places it ran in the women's race.
Last row call up, of course. Did I mention that Helen Wyman was there? Yeah, the British national champion. Yeah. She won. But I digress. The whistle blows and I'm not in a big enough gear but I figured it was going to all bog down in the first turn so I didn't need to panic. Then I find myself in last place going into the first turn. OK, I can move up, look at all those people right there? I passed one girl, got on my teammate's wheel, and hoped for opportunities to move up. Then . . . it just kind of fell apart. I was going as hard as I could but it just wasn't happening. My head felt like it was going to explode, my stomach was exceedingly unhappy with me, and I just wasn't having much fun. With one lap to go the sole person I'd passed at the beginning passed me back, and that was that. During that last lap my train of thinking was along the lines of, "I should really just downgrade, I'd have more fun racing with the amateurs, I suck at this." I know, bad thoughts, but the mental game can be the hardest part when you're rolling in DFL. I suppose the good news is that I actually finished, and didn't get lapped by Helen. In retrospect, perhaps it would have been better if I'd pulled out on lap one, given the 4 hours of misery that were to follow.
I felt like I was about to pass out after I finished, so I immediately rode over to the bike wash to get cleaned up and GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE. I didn't cool down (I told myself that my entire last lap had been a cool down. ha. haha. yeah.), but I hung out with my teammates for a few minutes while they did. I had some recovery drink. Then I hit the road. I talked to my dad on the phone whilst meandering my way through Burlington and probably running over someone's cat/child/foot in my somewhat distracted and unhappy state. Once rolling I started feeling really, really lousy. Head throbbing, stomach seriously unhappy with the state of affairs. And I had 4. Hours. To. Go. I'm not really sure how I made it home. It involved occasional stops for light napping and puking out the car door. It involved a whole lot of silence because every little sound hurt oh, so much. Somehow I made it home by 10, crawled into bed, covered in mud, and failure, and probably vomit. But oh! The joy of stillness and quiet.
Anyway, needless to say I should have listened to the signs and stayed home, and most of my Sunday and Monday involved continued recovery from whatever it is I did to myself on Saturday. I even called in sick yesterday, the first time I've done that since I started my job in January. I'll get out on my bike today and hopefully be able to salvage a little something for the Grand Prix of Gloucester this weekend. I love this race, let's hope it loves me back more than the Nor'easter did.
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