A Farewell

I've been racing bikes for 8 years, with varying levels of commitment and success.  My first race was the Cool MTB race in Northern California, and from that point on my life has centered around the sport of cycling.  It's brought many of my favorite people into my life (including Cody), strengthened relationships, and given me strength, confidence, and a sense of purpose.  It's made me who I am today, in many ways.  I've sacrificed a lot for bike racing - money, time, and experiences with friends and family.

I'm ready to move on to the next adventure.

I've been thinking about this for some time.  During our Christmas vacation I was convinced of it, but I had so much fun at nationals that I decided I needed one more season of cyclocross.  The last month has shown me that, no matter how much fun I think it would be to race in the fall, I don't have the drive I once had to put in the necessary work now.  Normally I feel excited when I think if my next opportunity to race, but now my mind just wanders to the other things I want to do instead.

I want to sail, I want to run, I want to practice yoga, I want to travel, I want to be a recreational cyclist, I want to go to school and get a job that means something to me.  I want to take vacations and not worry about getting in my workouts.  I want to not always be bike-poor.  I want to get rid of my power-meter and HR monitor and just ride when I when I want to ride (which is often), easy or hard, and feel good about it.  I want to be strong and fit and balanced, even if it means I'm no longer as fast on the bike.


It's sort of terrifying to step away from it (of course I could always come back) because it's defined me, at least in my own mind, for so long.  How will I be defined now?  Of course the answer is that we aren't defined by our hobbies, by what we do, but rather by how we do it, how we conduct ourselves.

Thanks, Bike Racing, for everything.  I hope we can still be friends.

The Off Season

The best part of having cyclocross nationals in January is coming out of the tunnel at the end of the season and realizing winter is half over and I have the next two to three weeks off the bike.  Those weeks happily fall during the coldest part of the year, which means not really caring one bit if it drops down to 5 degrees.

When I lived in Reno and my focus was road racing I would be deep into training at this point and fretting about trainer rides vs. getting cold and potentially sick.  Those of us with day jobs, or limited income, or dogs (or all three!), can't jet off to Arizona to put in the miles and work on our tans.  But regardless of whether your off season falls in October or January, it's a fantastic opportunity to recharge the batteries and refocus for the coming year.  

It's also a fantastic time of year for guilt-free Ben and Jerry's consumption.

Without a doubt, the best part about of the off season is the carefree approach to activity that it affords.  Whether it's running, easy rides, cross country skiing, yoga, or just going for a walk, it can all be approached with a sense of leisure that is impossible when we're training.  I love the focus and intensity of structured training - if I didn't love it I almost certainly wouldn't return to it year after year.

But the off-season harkens back to a time before bike racing was the point around which life revolves.  For me that time encompasses the two years of cycling I did prior to that first pivotal MTB race.  Memories of many of my rides from those years remain the most vivid, even after seven intervening years of riding and racing.  They were rides where every mile was an accomplishment, every descent joyful, and every gluttonous post-ride meal deservedly devoured without guilt.  I clearly remember my first mountain bike ride with my dad up Keystone Canyon in Reno (sans helmet, no less), and the first century I completed.  Every ride was done at whatever pace felt best, with no regard for training or recovery.

I remember these rides with the nostalgic wistfulness that we view so many experiences of our youth - with a bittersweet knowledge that we can never return to that place of innocent pleasure.  If I quit racing bikes tomorrow my recreational rides wouldn't magically take on that sense of wide-eyed discovery that characterized my early riding, but for a couple weeks each winter I am able to recapture a little of that carefree spirit.

I've done long trail runs with no regard for how long or fast I travel.  If I walk, I walk.  If I want to stop and just enjoy the woods for a few minutes, I stop.  I've gone to yoga classes and struggled to not feel (like all of us bike racers do) like I need to "win" yoga.  I've been able to rediscover that every physical exertion is not a battle, with myself or anyone else.  And when the time came to get back on my bike I rode with complete disregard for the cardinal sin of the early season, and hammered up every climb in my big ring.

Tomorrow I'll do a field test to determine where my fitness is at.  The next day, and the day after, I'll probably spend multiple hours on my trainer.  I'm excited to start training again.  I'm driven to succeed and be faster this year than last.  But I'd like to hang onto that immediate sense of joy in the ride, and knowledge that, amidst the daily abuse I inflict on myself to be stronger, it's important to be kind to the body as well.  While it may not always put out as much power as I'd like, or bend as far as some, it does everything I ask of it.

Anyway, farewell, Offseason 2013.  It's been nice.

Rewind Part 2 - Cyclocross Nationals!!!

When last I left off I'd just flown out of Sacramento.  I arrived in Madison to warmer, wetter weather than I'd anticipated when I'd packed my bag 2 weeks prior.  I had literally said, "If there's precipitation it is going to be in the form of snow."  We were racing the masters race the next day, Friday, and it was looking like it was going to be very wet.  As teammates arrived one by one, some of them with delayed flights due to some pretty thick fog, we cooked dinner at our rented house and got ready to race.

When we arrived at the venue on Friday it was no longer raining, but the ice and snow was melting and creating a big, muddy mess.  I did a couple laps on the course, and wasn't feel super comfortable with it.  There were big muddy descents with unpredictable ice patches under them.  Sometimes the ice felt faster, certainly there was less resistance than on the mud, but if you slid out you were going down fast.  

Masters 30-34:

I got a front row call up!  Coach Larry came up to get my jacket and told me, "Hole shot."  Right.  Yes, that would be nice.  The official blew the whistle and we were off.  I missed my pedal but just kept going without worrying about it - eventually my cleat would find its way in.  I was probably 2nd wheel as we went into the dirt, but I had a moment of doubt and got passed by a few people.  I was still feeling solid, riding probably 6th wheel, not losing any time.  The course went up a short steep climb, then down a descent that started as hard packed dirt and transitioned to ice and mud.  From there we turned right into the set of stairs, then dropped down a short, curving descent.  I was maintaining my position, and some of the girls ahead of me were riding the descent like ninnies so I took a chance on the icey line, hoping to make up a couple places.  Unfortunately I slid out, landed right on my butt on the ice, and slid down the hill while my bike remained at the top.  I had to run back up and get my bike.  I think I got passed by 6 people during the time it took me to do that.  So that kind of sucked.  But you know what was rad?  The whole thing was so ridiculously fun.   Even sliding down the ice was fun, if frustrating.  I got back to work, picking people off, but was mired by some slower traffic and by that point all the podium spots were out of my reach.  I ended up 7th, which was frustratingly close to a nationals podium.  I crashed one other time, this one in the pit as I got tangled on my own feet and fell on my bike.  You want to see what kind of damage a bladed spoke can do to your knee when you fall on it?

But here's the thing:  I had a great race.  My fitness was very good, my bike handling was killer (there was a long, muddy, sketchy descent before the barriers and every time I rode it the rowdy spectators told me I was making up tons of time on the girls ahead of me on it), and I rode the last lap as strong as the first.  I had fun the entire time, and actually wished they'd sent us out on another lap.  It left me wanting more.  That's exactly what bike racing should be.

We had one day off between races, and I opted for a short trainer ride to aid in recovery.  Other than that I tried to relax as much as possible and stay warm and healthy.  The forecast for Sunday was looking rather grim - predicted high of 21 degrees.  Ouch.  That means that all those footprints and tire tracks and deep ruts in the mud were going to freeze solid.

I did two laps on the course (while wearing my down jacket) on Sunday morning.  The first was while it was still early and everything was hard as a rock.  Sometimes you'd be riding on a smoothed out, if frozen, track and you'd hit an ice patch and get all squirrely.  I wasn't feeling very comfortable with it.  By the time I got out on my second practice lap the sun and been shining on the frozen ground for some time and it was actually softening up in places, even though the air temperature was still well below freezing.  The softening trend gave me confidence and I was starting to get excited to race.

Elite:

I had a decent call up, fourth or fifth row, but as I was rolling to the line I realized my front tire was feeling a little squishy.  Sure enough,  I had a slow leak.  My fabulous teammate Christina was lined up next to me and I said, "Christina, I think I have a flat tire."  She felt it and was totally cool, "You'll be fine, just to straight to the pit.  I've ridden on tires that low, you'll have no problem."  The pit was only a minute into the course so I didn't have to go that far.  I wasn't ready for the whistle, but managed to get going pretty quick.  My front tire squished around on the pavement and I dropped back, afraid I was going to take out half the field.  When we hit the dirt I found myself very far back amongst girls who weren't riding the half-muddy ruts very well at all.  The tire handled better on the dirt than the pavement, so I took some chances and motored around a number of people.  The turn before the pit was still hard as a rock and people were going really slow so I jumped off to run around it and went straight for the pit.  Then, I tripped over something.  Maybe my own feet, maybe just the rutted ground. I laid it out, landing on my knees and hands on the solidly frozen earth.  Ouch.  I picked myself up as quickly as I could and hobbled the whole length of the pit to where our crew was waiting with my bike.  In conversations we've had since the race it seems they couldn't figure out why a flat tire was making me limp like that.   Haha.  Anyway, got my bike and started rolling, passing as many people as I could. As I hit the climb I realized there was something very wrong with my left index finger.  I couldn't use my front brake, which isn't a big deal, but it also made holding the bars more difficult.  If it had been my right hand and I only could use my front brake I probably would have quit, since I would have been hitting the ground every 15 seconds.  At this point I was determined have fun, pass as many people as I could, and do my very best.  The course was very muddy, and the mud would freeze solid in a matter of seconds on our frames.  My derailleurs only sometimes shifted, the rest of the time they froze into place.  My fitness was good, my bike handling was good, and I passed a good number of people.  I ended up getting pulled after a couple laps, along with over half the field.  My glove was now tight around my rapidly swelling finger.  I headed to the medical tent and determined that it probably wasn't broken.  I got to cheer for my teammates who finished 11th and 12th.  I was happy with how I dealt with a bad situation, from the flat to the finger, and I truly enjoyed my race.  Again, what more can you ask for?

Anyway, the rest of the day was spent indulging in adult beverages and off-season food with my wonderful teammates.  I flew out with a couple of them on Monday afternoon, and was so happy to have friends with me while we were stuck in Cleveland for 4 hours waiting for our connection.  Cody picked me up at the airport at midnight.

Decompress.  After 3 weeks away it's great to be home.

So ends the 2012-2013 CX season for me.  I'd love to go to Louisville, but honestly I think I'm just ready for a little down time.  You can bet that I'll be watching it from home, though!

I had such a fun season, and I grew so much as a bike racer.  I owe all the thanks to my fantastic team, LadiesFirst Racing, our fantastic sponsors, most especially Milton Cat, my super coach and team director Larry who gave me all the tools to succeed, and my inspiring teammates and all of NECX who make every race a big awesome party.  Thanks to Scott and Seaside Cycle for giving me the flexibility to race, a job I love to go to, and access to the best equipment in the world, and my co-worker and buddy Kurt who gives so much to NECX, Ladiesfirst, and myself, every single weekend, and his mini-me Matthew for the race-day dogsitting.  Thanks to Oscar of rOti Cycling Services for keeping my bikes running great throughout this muddy season.  Thanks to my parents for always supporting me and wanting to hear about my races, my dad for taking me on epic rides, and my mom for always providing sympathy even for the most trivial of injuries.  Thanks to all my non-cyclocross friends who always root for me and want to hear about my racing even if they think I'm a little nuts.  And of course thanks to Cody for giving up his weekends to pit for me, preriding the courses with me and showing me the fast lines, talking me up when I'm feeling fat and slow, supporting me in all my crazy ideas, and being a constant reminder of what is really important in life.

Whew.

Post-masters race mud-shot.

Pretty cold on Sunday morning!

What a mess!  The pits were like a war-zone.

A little post-race locally brewed recovery.  My left index wasn't any help in holding onto the beer, but I figured it was sort of like icing it, right?

Haha.  

Rewind Part 1 - So Long 2012

I think it's Tuesday.  We rolled in at 1 AM last night after being delayed in Cleveland for longer than I care to remember.  I slept until 7 AM, when our neighbor came by to use the compressor in the garage area below our barn-house.  The sound of a compressor re-compressing itself for a half hour, with nothing between you and it but a pillow and a couple pieces of plywood?  Yeah, I was awake.  But then he left and I slept until 10.  Right.  I haven't slept that late in years.  I showered and talked to the cats and dog for a while, and was thinking of heading back to bed, but instead decided to makes some tea and toast and update the ol' blog.

I don't think I've written much about the latter part of my 2012 CX season.  Don't know why, it was pretty rad.  My coach had me peak for the last couple New England UCI races and, lo and behold, I was pretty fast.  The last UCI race was in Warwick, and on Day 2 I had the best start of my life, was flying, up in the top 16 or so, and then I crashed, and crashed again, and sort of fell apart.  That was disappointing, because in some ways it was my last real chance of 2012 to prove something to myself.  If I'd held it together and kept upright I think I would have had a pretty great result to show for it.  As it was, I was really, really mad.  At myself, primarily, and I used that to help motivate for nationals.  I figured my next big chance to have a great result would be the masters 30-34 race in Madison.  I got back to the tough training after Warwick to start building back up.  

The next two weekends we had some regional races - Ice Weasels and Regional Championships.  Ice Weasels was OK (super fun in the mud!), but my bike sort of wasn't working and I didn't have anyone in the pit, and the training was starting to take its toll at Regionals, leaving me thinking fondly of how freaking awesome it is to be at peak fitness.  It also coincided with some cold snowy weather, Christmas happenings, and a two week period of time that Cody was away for work.  What do you think happened then?  Yeah, my motivation went from 11 to, oh, -2.  I was happy to be headed out on vacation for a couple weeks, thinking that it would help me recapture that fire to win.  

Cody and I flew to Reno on Christmas day to spend a week with my mom and reconnect with some friends we hadn't seen in a while.  While we were there it snowed a ton, making for some rad snow-cross-biking and a couple great opportunities to get up in the mountains.  I miss the mountains.  My motivation was still low, but I did my workouts (most of them).  I didn't want biking to interfere with spending time with the people I was there to see, or the non-bike things I wanted to do.  I wasn't particularly looking forward to Nationals at this point, merely accepting that I'd be heading out there whether I wanted to or not.  I know, that's terrible.  Don't worry, it got better.

Anyway, we went snowshoeing, sledding, watched football, and caught up with some great friends, and family.  Cody flew back to Boston on New Years Day, and I headed over the hill to Grass Valley, CA.  We had a nice visit with extended family, then headed down to Chico to visit with the other extended family.  I rode my bike through Bidwell Park in short sleeves.  We ate at the brewery.  Then I rode my very favorite Chico-area ride with my dad, starting in Oroville and riding up over Table Mountain.  It is so ridiculously pretty out there, and it was so nice to ride in above-freezing temperatures.  Also, my legs were feeling not to bad!  The motivation was starting to return.  

I spent the next week in California with my dad.  We spent one day XC skiiing above Truckee (for 4 hours - hmmm, good nationals prep?  We'll see!), then went DH skiing at Boreal.  Does it make me sound old to say I haven't downhill skiied in 23 years?  Yes?  Shit.  Well, the last time I was 7.  I've snowboarded lots since then, and I think that must help because it was pretty easy.  We took a lesson with a woman who was 75, and still a ski instructor.  I hope I'm still doing what I love when I'm 75.  There's not a lot more to ask of life than that.  

Anyway, my week in California was great.  We watched 2 seasons of Breaking Bad (I had dreams about disposing of bodies).  The week culminated in a great ride down around the Sutter Buttes, which wasn't exactly warm, but was extremely scenic.  My dad got up at a horrifyingly early hour to drop me at the airport in Sacramento.  Next up:  Nationals!

A Snowy CX Ride up Keystone Canyon in Reno

 Snowshoeing on Mount Rose with my mom and Cody - 8500' Elevation, that's gotta be good for my bike racing, right?

 A Lentil Burger and Old Chico Crystal Wheat at Sierra Nevada Brewery.  So good.

 Short-sleeves on a ride through Bidwell Park!

My mom adopted this dog, Murray.  He's a doll.

Fuel to the Fire

Wow, is it December?  Has it really been a month since I've updated the ol' blog?  Yes, and yes.  Wacky.  

It's been a really fantastic month, though.  All my races from the second half of the season, and in particular November, were getting progressively better.  Fitness, starts, smarts.  And also just a lot of fun, too, which is pretty important.  

I had a podium finish at Northeast Velo Cross, then a great ride to 4th place the next day at Shedd Park in Lowell.  Last weekend I had two very good rides at the final Verge series races in Sterling, and then on Saturday I had a great ride at NBX in Warwick.  Really, I've been feeling great about everything concerning cyclocross lately.  But I guess sometimes being happy doesn't drive you to be your best, sometimes angry can work a lot better.  Which is why I'm going to call my race yesterday, Sunday at NBX, one of the best things that can have happened to me.  Fuel to power me through the next month of training before nationals.  

I had a good start, awesome power, and was riding with a group of very strong, fast girls.  For a lap and a half.  Then I crashed.  I was going for it and overcooked a corner.  It wasn't bad, but I landed on my right knee and lost a little skin. Okay, that's OK.  Get up, get going.  I might have lost one place to that. Then I was rolling into the smaller of the two sand pits.  I got off my bike to run and got sort of stuck and fell onto my bike, hitting my right knee again.  That one actually hurt.  Okay, no problem, get up, get going.  I was caught by a couple people here, and went to go with them, and realized my right shoe had come loose.  When I'd fallen in the sand I'd hit the little quick-release button on the buckle and it loosened way off.  Rats.  If you've never tried it, I recommend against trying to buckle a shoe while pedaling.  It just makes you look like an idiot.  Anyway, I rode around with it loose for a lap and a half, which was super problematic in the long sand run, and finally stopped and tightened it.  Also I think I'd jammed some dirt in my shifter or something, so I made a couple trips through the pit.  We'd practiced our bike exchanges prior to the race, and we executed one really nice one and one that left a little something to be desired.  Anyway, I rolled through somewhere in the 20's and super, super pissed off about the whole thing.  It was the last UCI race of my season, and I was in a perfect position, with good legs, to prove to myself what I can do, and all I proved is that I can fall apart after a couple minor crashes.  Meh.  

But I'm going to let myself be angry, because it will motivate me for good races at nationals.  Ice Weasels is next weekend, but I don't want to be angry at Ice Weasels, I want to have fun and get in some fun times with my NECX crew.  

Anyway, unfortunate day 2 race aside, it was a truly fantastic weekend, following a stellar month, with my super teammates, and our super duper support crew and cheering squad.  Why does CX season have to go by so fast?!

A couple good ones...

Okay, everyone stop, something pretty amazing has happened.  I had Two Good Race Weekends . . . in a row.  That's right.  Two consecutive strong, positive weekends.  What the...?

The weekend before last I did a couple regional races - Canton Cup and Orchard Cross.  I podiumed at Canton with a 3rd place finish in a smaller field, and had a great race with some strong riders to finish 6th at Orchard.  Seriously, Orchard?  I had a great start (!!!) and hung with the super-strong leaders for a lap or so.  That is progress, right there.  

Then last weekend was the Cycle-Smart International in Northampton.  I just did one day there last year and I really liked the course.  It's a power course with roots.  I dunno, not super technical, but it works for me.  And some good fast turns.  I like fast turns.  Both days I started poorly.  More so on Saturday, but Sunday was no clinic on good starts, either.  Both days I worked my way up to my teammate Christina.  On Saturday we worked together, but probably didn't use our strength very efficiently because we ended up getting attacked and dropped by two girls that were sitting on while we were attacking from the front.  Rookie move.  But it's not very common in cyclocross to find yourself in a position where you can benefit from team tactics, and we clearly weren't thinking straight.  Ah well.  We resolved on Sunday to be smarter if we ended up together.  I had to do a lot more hard work to catch up to Christina on Sunday - I think she had a pretty good start - and by the time I got there I was sort of worked.  This time I was hoping to get to the front and block so she could attack, but I didn't have the legs to move up, and I eventually got dropped from her group.  I was able to hold off a group of 4-5 girls who'd caught up, though, so that was really cool.  Both days I had really strong final laps, which is also cool, and a good sign of fitness.  I keep thinking if I could just pull my head out of my ass at the starts my life would be so much easier.  

The quote of the weekend definitely comes from coach Larry, yelled at me while I was trying to recover from my poor start on Sunday.  "Stop being so nice to the other women!"  It was totally what I needed to hear.  One of the chase girls passed me at the run up and I totally chopped her in the next corner.  Nothing dangerous, but I stuck out my elbows and got mad and didn't give her any choice but to Get Out of My Way.  I'm going to write that on my stem: "Stop being so nice to the other women."  

In the end I finished 19th and 20th, respectively.  Two fairly solid races, I just need to improve by, oh, 10 places or so and I'll be rockin' in.  It was a fun weekend with teammates and Cody came along to cheer and be awesome.  

Yay, two good race weekend, moving up in the world!

And I made cyclingnews, and not just as a "Ladiesfirst rider," but as me.  

http://www.cyclingnews.com/races/nepcx-the-cycle-smart-international-2-2012/elite-women/photos/243482

Yay!

Providence

I didn’t write a report for Gloucester.  Which is weird, because, you know, it’s Gloucester.  But too much time has elapsed and I don’t think I can do it justice.  Suffice to say I had pretty mediocre to poor races, but I really think I had the most amazing cheering section of anyone out there.  It’s almost like I’m a . . . local. 

Moving on.

Can we have a Monday holiday after every double race weekend?  Because sitting around, drinking tea, interneting, and actually getting my muddy skinsuit washed in a timely fashion is pretty rad.  Cody’s working (poor guy), and the remainder of the household has traveled north to see the brand new baby-in-law (niece or granddaughter, depending on where you stand).  They invited me to go with them and I’m all, “Baby?  Uh, does it race CX yet?”  But I digress.

Last year I had two pretty abysmal days at Providence (abysmal even relative to my generally abysmal season).  It was hot, the course was sort of boring and had a lot of pavement, etc.  And I was slow and off the back and there was nowhere to hide.  Anyway, I was hoping, of course, to have more fun there this year. 

I had no goals or serious aspirations regarding either Gloucester or Providence, I wasn’t targeting them for good results.  The fields are nationals-caliber, I’d be starting in the back, and it’s still early.   I’m putting more focus in the Verge series, where the fields are smaller, are almost strictly New England (which is fast, but weeds out some Olympians, Euros, and other pros), and where I can get some top 10 results to move me up a few rows by the time we hit Nationals, with any luck.  Nonetheless, it’s good to feel fast and competitive, and after being off the back at Gloucester I wanted to be racing where I belonged at Providence.

Day 1.

It was hot and dry.  Damnit.  Despite years of living in Reno (which isn’t nearly as hot as most New Englanders suppose it to be) and racing in NorCal (which is much hotter than that same group suspect) I seem to do really terribly in the heat.  On Saturday I had a slow start, a pretty blazing first lap and a half, then sort of wilted in the heat.  I lost 2-3 spots as I tried to survive the last 2 laps, wishing with all my heart that I’d mounted a bottle cage to my CX bike.  Whatever.  I ended up 29^th, so top 30!  Not bad, but nothing to get excited about. 

Then came the horrible aftermath.  I don’t think I ever wrote about what happened to me after the Willowdale MTB race in the spring, but I overheated and spent the next 12 hours on my back, unable to eat or drink, puking up anything I tried to put down.  Pretty much the same thing happened on Saturday afternoon.  We got to our hotel and checked in.  Or, Cody checked in and I laid across the front seats of the car and tried to keep my recovery drink down.  We finally got to the room and were supposed to meet up with the team for dinner, but I was in no condition to go anywhere so Cody got us some Italian takeout.  I managed a slice of bread and 2 bites of pasta with marinara, and a few sips of water.  Any motion out of the horizontal resulted in immediate regurgitation.  I’m sure I was delightful company.  After sleeping a couple hours I awoke at midnight with a raging headache but a subdued stomach, so I ate some more pasta.  In bed.  I’m a class act like that.  I also drank two glasses of water, which proved to be a vain attempt at hydration because I awoke the next morning with no relief from the headache. 

Day 2.

I told Cody, “I don’t know if I should race.  I didn’t eat anything, so I wasn’t able to replenish my glycogen, and I’m dehydrated and I feel like crap.”  He was all, “Shut up, we’re already down here, let’s get some food, and you’re going to race your bike.”  I’m paraphrasing.  Sort of.  The joke was that if I managed a decent race I would pioneer a new method of race preparation that involves fasting the night before the big event, and not eating after one.  Ha.  Ha. 

By the time we got to Panera for breakfast I was weak with hunger and about to murder a person for a pain au chocolat, but after stuffing myself with a breakfast sandwich and a pecan role, and OJ, and ibuprophen, I was feeling somewhat recovered. 

We went to the venue early to cheer for our friends in the amateur women’s field (right, cause everyone in the elite’s is pro?).  It wasn’t nearly as cool or wet out as I’d hoped, but I needn’t have feared as that would change later in the day. 

I got Cody to go pre-ride a couple laps with me – his first lap of a CX course!  Can we start a petition to get him to enter a race before the season is over?  Everyone wants to see him out there, right?  We’ll just have to make sure someone gives him a beer and/or bacon hand up.  Anyway, he’s got mad bike handling skills and is great at selecting lines so it was fun riding and talking through the course with him.  I felt alternately OK and awful, and really had no expectations for the race.

Just as we were sitting down on our trainers to warm up it started to sprinkle.  ‘Whoa.  This is going to change the course.  It is going to get slimy.’  Looking at the numbers on my power meter was making me sad, so I didn’t do much warm up and instead went out for a lap on the newly slicked up course.  It lived up to the expectation, but it was also super duper fun!

Fast forward . . . start of the race.  I’ll admit, I didn’t really “try” at the start of the race.  I settled into the back with no serious effort, which was sort of my strategy (start slow, and see if I can pick people off).  Given my lack of expectation it seemed like a good one.   The course started with a couple slimy turns, then there was an off camber straight away that was very slippery.  I was just planning on running it since I knew the first lap would be carnage.  I got off right before it and sure enough, there were 3 separate pile ups that I was able to trot around before jumping back on.  As I rode by the pit the first time I heard Cody say, “Yeah, great start, now start picking people off.”  Great start?  More like smart racing.  Good to finally put that stuff between my ears to use (apparently I haven’t huffed enough Vittoria Mastik glue this season…). 

Anyway, I actually was moving pretty good, and passed a couple more people before I bobbled a remount and hit the deck, with my leg wedged between my tire and my frame.  Seriously.  My right lower leg got stuck between my downtube and my front tire.  How the hell did that happen?  I can’t even recall how I bobbled the remount, I was just on the ground, stuck, laughing at myself, while 6-7 girls passed me.  Damn.  I had to laugh though, it was so ridiculous, and it took me a literal 30 seconds to disentangle myself.  Of all the stupid things. 

I passed a couple girls, and was riding pretty well.  Or, more accurately, running smartly.  There were some slippery sections where, if you rode them cleanly you were quick, but there was probably a 90% chance of sliding out on them, which made you slower than if you were running.  I just ran them.  It had worked at the start for me, so I figured it was a smart strategy.  And I didn’t lose any places from it. 

It’s sort of trite, but I wanted to mention that I tried to pass a girl, first lap, as we were passing the pit, and she tried to ride me into the course tape.  It was lame.  I passed her on the next straight away, then she passed me again on the pavement.  Then she crashed most spectacularly into the course tape, and I felt like, hey, maybe there’s such a thing as karma.  Cody says I should race like that, pushing people in to the tape and stuff, but when you’re fighting for 25^th place on the first lap?  Really?  I think that’s a little inappropriate. 

Anyway, myself and probably 14 other girls ended up getting pulled one lap down.  Which I didn’t mind too much, because I was happy with my race and I got to watch the finish where my teammates rode to 4^th and 7^th.  I do feel the need to mention, however, that they did not placed the pulled riders correctly in the results.  They took down everyone’s numbers, but when the put them in the results they reversed them, so the first person to get pulled, who was in 26^th, was listed as the last person to get pulled, in 42^nd.  I was the second person pulled and I finished 27^th, even though the results put me in 41^st.  I sort of figure that if you get pulled you shouldn’t be complaining about the results, but I’m quite proud of that 27^th place and I’m sort of embarrassed to be listed as coming in 3^rd from last after I had a good race.  So for everyone reading this, I got 27^th!  Now I’ll drop it. 

It was great to have a fun race after being so sure I was going to suck and quit.  I did fade in the last 2 laps, but given my poor nutrition the day before it’s pretty amazing to me that I had anything in the tank at all.  It was rad that Cody came down to the race and made me go race on Sunday, because it would have sucked if I’d just gone home.  Now I get a weekend off!  But you know what?  I don’t even want a weekend off!  I want to go race again!  That’s the sign of a good weekend, or at least, a good race.  Today’s supposed to be my rest day and all I want to do is go ride my bike!  But I have weird sore muscles and inexplicable bruises and an oddly sore left knee, so maybe rest is best.  Yay bike racing!  I really love this sport.  And you know what?  After Saturday’s race, when I was laying around feeling like death, I was thinking that maybe it’s just not for me.  Maybe I’ll never be successful.  Terrible thoughts.  But after yesterday, and a good race, and so much slippery fun?  I’m thinking I don’t care how long it takes, or how hard I have to work, I need to get to the front.  I want to be part of the action up there.