Close The Door!

I spent the night with Gewilli and family. We ate so much chicken lo mein it was ridiculous. I only had one beer. I drank more water than a fish. God it was hot Saturday. I was a prune.

Sunday AM and Gewilli wants to get to the course by 530 AM cause we race at 1130 and its 10 minutes away. I slept in longer at Curtis’s house in Portsmouth on Saturday. But whatever.

I had to stop and get gas along the way, which clearly irritated the big irritable freak. I only put in half a tank cause I could see he was already stressed right the hell out and it was almost 8AM and we still had 10 minutes to drive. I am 100% serious. Half a tank.

We finally got there, barely in time to mill about and do nothing for an hour. I got myself out for a lap after the first race of the day (yes, at 9am I was doing laps). Fun course. The little 4 lane I95 section was a bit of a night mare, and made for the sketchiest course crossing ever devised, which cause me undo stress considering my kid was there with me and would be freelancing all day.

Legs felt OK as I had intentionally saved it on day 1 once I realized I was not working with good legs. I did more laps an hour later. I rode the trainer for over an hour. I did 4 hard sprints in the last 30 minutes. I was as ready as I was gonna be.

I lined up on the right side, screw this left side stuff, I don’t know why Gewilli suggested it on day 1. The start at La Prov is the same as G-ster. Its a carbon copy. Left side only works if you are front row.  If you are third row, you end up getting pinched like in the jaws of a vise, boxed in from the front and squeezed from the rear. Boo.

I once again decided to ride groups and not work, but I was going to try to jump up as far as I could before the first drafting section, which was the off camber shortly after the start, into the right lane of I95 section up into the up down around the tree and back to more drafting. I once again missed my pedal, only really really badly this time. I don’t think I have missed a pedal in the start in years, then 2 in a row. Must be the new shoes and pedals.  Hmm.

Anyway so I totally blew it and had to do a pretty hard second sprint cause I missed the first sprint. Then I got inside and around the first couple tree turns really well. I was running 34 Fangos, for lack of anything else (literally).  They were brand new, first ride. I put them up to 32 – 35 or so, really hard, for me at least, as I worried about them folding over and also flatting and also it was FAST out there. I will say, I don’t know what all the bitching is about. They have stupid amounts of grip. I did find that I spun the rear too easily up the loose dirt ride/run section, but I attributed it to the wider section. That said, forward bite is not the tire’s strong point, but at high pressure it corners like a clincher, and still rides smooth like a 32 at lower pressure. I liked them, and I hate everything.

On the third turn I was back up to Gewilli. I scooted to his inside and shot through a gap, then sprinted hard up the little left hand turn up the little kicker of a hill onto the long downhill off camber. At this point I sat on. I ran the up down up section around the tree as it was first lap chaos. I got back into the wheels for the next long pedaling section.

From here on it gets blurry. I was in a group the whole time. I kept passing where I could and holding second wheel, trying to race the group and not work too much. We quickly settled in and no one was coming through us. I think I jumped on a passing group once, with Roszko, Meerse, and a couple others (I admit to not recognizing anyone this year, lots of MAC guys and freshly minted 35s). I dangled off that and they had a gap on me after a while so I dropped back to my previous group. As opposed to dieing out there for 2 laps like I used to do.

There was one guy in a plain white skinsuit, clearly a roadie, who had incredible power on the pavement and the following off camber, but was not good in the corners. About 4 laps in, he came up to us again, while I was in 2nd wheel on a guy who was good in corners but slower than me in the pavement bits (yikes) but I sat on anyway. I felt White Dude coming up from behind through the start finish, and sure enough he attacked HARD up the hill. I jumped on that shit right away, and managed to get his wheel. He was stupid fast onto the grass and I rolled back onto him on the corners, but out of each corner he killed it again, after sort of botching the corner and slowing us down. Onto the off camber fast bit he torched me again and I was dangling. This kept up for almost the whole lap. He dragged us back up to the remnants of the group I had fallen off of earlier with him. I seem to recall him crashing out of it which was why he went back to us. Anyway, he proceeded to go thru them, and I never really made contact.

With 2 to go, I was not in contact and feeling blown, and of course my old group was bearing down. So I backed off and let them regain contact. Then I ducked in behind the same good in corners slow in straights guy, who I was comfortable behind and sensed I could take when it counted. I blocked the shit out of 3rd and 4th wheel, which, IIRC, included team mate Gary David who we had clawed our way back to by racing hard with White Dude.

Gary seemed to be fading, and started making driving errors, and subsequently crashed himself out of the group twice. So basically by the end of 2 to go, getting the bell, me and good in corners dude (let me look him up, this is ridiculous). Ah yes, Zach Magoon of Bikeman. Don’t know him. Think he is a youngster. So there we are, got a little gap, getting the bell. I did the absolute right thing by trying really hard to move up UNTIL 2 to go. Then taking 2 to go off to try to focus on winning my group, cause I was out of race course. Usually I work EXTRA hard with 2 to go and get jumped with 1 to go.

This time I was fresh as a daisy and coasting and half wheeling the shit out of poor Zach. I had to tap the brakes to avoid crossing wheels with him as we turned onto the grass. I continued to follow him. He was strong, really strong, on the uphill rooty bumpy crap coming out of the “amphitheater of pain” half pipe section. He was pretty slow right after it, along the lake, into the pit area. So I sucked it like I do all the way thru the barriers, the twisties, and up that little hill that I suck at (according to Solo). Right as we crested, I accelerated and made a really nice inside pass on that narrow little lead in to the drop off into the first huge half pipe. I railed tight inside line as we dropped in and drilled it thru all of those swooping turns. Out of the last one I had a little gap and attacked like crazy into the nasty climb up the roots, dumping everything I had, knowing if I had a gap there I could out roll him to the finish.

Sure enough, I got away clean, and was actually coming back on Meerse though he was probably mailing it in by then. I built up a 10 second gap in that last third of a lap. Hooray, last lap fresh legs!  I ended up 28/41 finishers. Lots of flats again, I think we had 50 something starters.

I was pretty happy with that result, the time gaps to like 25th were HUGE and I was not in that league. I feel like I turned a corner tactically, finally, and was racing with my head both days, and maximized the result given what legs I have to work with, and it was super fun being mentally aware during a race, and thinking and planning and saving the legs to make attacks, and all that.  Good times.  I hope I am finally raced into shape, and that my summer training will now kick in and allow me to ride this fitness through the season with lots of racing and very minimal mid week riding.  Driving down Friday night was absolutely KEY as well. It sucks, but I need to do more of it.

Oh, metrics – my MBB was only 4!!! But he had an off race, as did Curtis, with my MBCB being only 3.5.  Mark the Shark won the damn thing and put a minute into JONNY BOLD and co, so my MBMtS was 5, still not too bad, but not quite where I need it (looking for 4.5).

Edit – White Dude aka Can’t Clip In Dude was #229, Paul Stanton, from PA. And he did in fact make it up thru and past Roszko. That dude made up some time. No wonder I could not ride that wheel. Imagine if he could corner. Worst kind of wheel to follow, too strong, and too slow. The Anti-Myette Hero Wheel.

So I had a pretty effing stressful work week, after all my work and travel preceding. Was pretty nuts, and I did not eat, sleep, or ride appropriately. Thursday and Friday got no rides, Wednesday was riding my fixed gear back from the car dealer where I bought a new bike frame, or could have, for what amounted to basically a new spark plug. But I digress.

Point is, I was flat. I tried to do a long warm up, but nope, I was blocked and could tell. So I decided to start even SLOWER than slow, and I decided earlier in the week that I pull everyone around all day and that is stupid. So that was that. Start slow, follow wheels, see what happens.

That is pretty much what I did. I started so slow that I slipped a pedal! Its like trying to go over the barriers wicked slow during a casual warm up, you always catch a toe. Off I went, did a little surge but not really, just sort of locked in to the wheel in front of me. Oh, and I almost died. I lined up left side, against my better judgement. I had Gewilli on my left. Off we go and I look up from foot fucking my pedal and launch and there is an orange metal fence, 3 feet off the curb, ready to split me right down the middle! I try to swerve right but I am boxed in by Gewilli, the worlds biggest cross racer.  I let off the gas and slid in behind him, grazing the stupid fence, then got going again.

I forget what happened next but I do remember just riding the wheel in front of me by the off camber section to the pits, not breathing hard. I think Gewilli managed to get behind me somehow.  I kept that up for a lap or two, just following the wheel, or when I got shuffled to the front I just slowed way the hell down till someone felt compelled to pass me. I was NOT going to do any work.

One time, I was on the front, lap 2 maybe, and Gewilli yelled at me to get off the front and do nothing. I think he just wanted me to slow down.

Somewhere early on I noticed Myette futzing with a tire in the pits. I knew he would be coming, and I hoped a couple laps at 80% was going to open me up. By this time we had burned a few guys off by not riding fast, and it was a funny little train of me, gewilli, and fucking negacoach who had dropped to 35s to see me and Ring wreck each other. We will get to that later.

I was pretty goddamned slow up the steep little hill before you cross the pavement and go up to the concrete steps. I had no powah. Solo yells “he is like a subaru justy!” which made Gewilli laugh. Of course, they are both on my wheel at this point, what does that say?  Yes, typically I am worthless on the pedaling sections, and Saturday was no different, but I was making it even worse by resting on the pedaling bits cause the game plan was to do nothing and ride slow all race, and see what happened. I have been trying to start slow and conserve all year, but it has not been slow enough, so I was convinced to completely over shoot it to the slow side this time, just to make sure I gave it a shot.

Anyway, Gewilli was puffing really hard, I was chilling, scheming even, and Solo was focused on me like a lazer. At one point, on a pedaling bit, he passed me, all proud of himself. I snickered to myself and prepared to make him my bitch for a lap. Then Myette catches us and slaps my ass as he goes by. Must be a hockey thing.  I had been resting and waiting for this moment the whole race, monitoring his progress up to us.

Solo goes deep to get on the wheel. I let him do all the work closing the gaps on Matt, who is the best wheel in Masters Cross to follow. Bar none. Its like a hero wheel, its magic. Oddly, Kenny is the same, in the 3s. It must be a Zank thing. So, Solo is killing himself and I think to myself I need to tell him not to go too hard, cause Myette is 100% gonna burn him off so just be aware. As I am about to get that out of my mouth, cause I see him start to fade, we go around the tree by the pond, off camber with roots, and he loses the front wheel. I was RIGHT up on his ass, getting ready to pass him before the barriers after that turn, no shit, know Matt would gap him off bad thru there. So he goes high to low, inside to outside, and collects my front wheel in the process, and then gets all caught in the tape.

I rode straight up his ass, slamming into his back and falling over him with my bike behind me in the tape. I must be losing weight, cause I was sure I broke his spine, but he said he barely felt me, I will take that as a compliment.

It took a bit to untie my bike, and then off I go, uphill into the barriers and whoops. I right away decided to take a lap off, as it was easy day and stopping like that wrecked me. Gewilli did go by, and that concerned me for a bit, but it was still like lap 3 at most, of 6, and I knew he would fade.

So I rode alone for a bit, then caught some of the guys who passed us, who had basically burnt off of Solo, so I knew I could reel them in, shit. I patiently sucked wheel on the pavement sections and made my moves on the selective bits and soon there was Freak right in front of me. I don’t think I rode his wheel much, there must have been another wheel handy, and next thing you know he is gone too. I could see Solo way the hell behind us, checked out.

I could see a guy in black, but not Pedros, coming up from behind on a tear. I rode the wheel of the guy I was with, resting, waiting. Sure enough black kit guy (turned out to be a decent racer from the MAC) caught us and I jumped on him, dusting my previous ride. Fresh legs at the end of a race! Wow!

Of course, here is where it all came crashing down – I had lulled myself to sleep by not making it hurt all day, and when I needed to make it hurt to beat this guy from MAC, I couldn’t. I rationalized that I had beaten and caught all the guys I lost spots to, this guy was gravy, he was strong, etc. and I could not quite get into the old pain cave in the last lap. I mailed it in.

I finished an amazing 31/57 which makes no sense at all. Front was fast, the pack fill did not show, I guess. I was 33/71 last year and thought it was my 2nd best result all year. I was way way slower Saturday.

The MBB analyses confirms this, at an embarrassing 6.5. Not good. But, I had a ton of fun, and still raced my bike. Sure, my crossresults.com points tanked (410? Really? 410, Rooter? Please) but ITS NOT IN MY HEAD so fuck it!

To cap it off, Media Monday was a complete failure, as I continue to be invisible to the camera. WTF people?

Edit – Soups, Team Photog, photoshopped this image of me out of scraps of other images to appease my narcissism. Yah, it was MTB race HOT. I died.

That might be a bit of a teaser for a title, as I am way behind and not going to catch up, so here are the cliffs notes, cause I know you all care about my racing. So, so much. That it hurts.

Looking at you, Tysko (sorry, Tiscko).

So last up I wrote about Wednesday CX practice. Then I raced Quad. I felt OK at Quad, had a good start, almost got wrecked by, yes you guessed it, CCR, who backed into the front row right directly in front of me, cause he likes to live dangerously. He came over on my hard in the sprint off the line and I had to yell (which I very very very rarely do) and lean into him pretty hard. Then I relaunched in a panic to clear any fracas and found myself way way to far up. Like, Jonny Bold passed me (on the inside, what a sandbagging douche…snicker….) on the second turn kind of too far up. Then Mike Rowell went by. Then I knew I had gone out to hot for sure.  I sort of faded the whole race but was holding it, till I slide out on the pavement to grass thing, and 4 guys got past me, including Brant Hornberger who I would have been psyched to beat. Think I ended up 24 of 42 or something. I was wrecked after.

Then I left for Alabama Monday AM for a week of pulled meats and tobacco smoke and maybe, MAYBE, a beer. Or two. And an Elvis. I spent a lot of time climbing 6 flights of stairs in a 120F/100% humidity calcium carbonate plant (rock crushing plant, basically).

I flew home Friday and raced Catamount Saturday and Sunday. It was HOT. I cramped hard on day 1, after feeling like shit all day and coming around with 2 to go, chasing CCR, as per normal. I closed it waaay down in two laps, then I cramped and limped home. Its hard to ride that course with a cramp cause there is no where to coast and rub and stretch it out. You stop pedalling you stop and fall over.

Sunday, it was also hot. My calf was still sore to the touch from the cramping, and my legs were even WORSE. I was HORRIBLE. I started slow and faded. Midway I found a little life cause it was just me and Gewilli tail gunning the race in matching team kit and that is just embarrassing. I ended up working hard on a much more ridable course, working with DAN COADY! for much of the race, while local boy Matt Spence sat right the fuck on and jumped us in the sprint. Meh. Whatever, right?  I did attack up the start finish hill with 1 to go and got a nice gap. Then I curled into the fetal position and let them come right back to me. As is my tendency.

Then, Monday, I flew to Vegas cause I am a moron who likes to blow money. I gambled 5 bucks on video poker, and so did my wife. I milked it for about 1.5 hrs though, so basically a movie, but I got several free beers in the process! I call that cash flow positive.

Flew back home Friday morning via the red eye. Got home at noon or 1 and managed to drag out for a ride to get rid of the swollen plane legs. I ended up doing 3 hrs at a snails pace.

Saturday I bailed on Loon. No way I could muster it. I sat around and did an hour of openers.

Sunday went to Suckerbrook with Noah. He raced the cub juniors, which cost me 25 bucks more than his race usually costs. Yay. Same result. Then I did the M35. I had a great start, was COMFORTABLE up in maybe 12th or so, riding wheels! I love riding wheels. Unfortunately, Paul Cox of CCB was also trying to ride wheels, but not mine. Kept like sprinting around me, gassed, and then blowing the corners for everyone, causing me to chase frantically only to have him do it again. I don’t know Paul, but I looked his number up cause eventually he botched the 180 up down before the barriers and really dropped us off the group. I killed myself more than I wanted to to close that on lap 2.

Lap 2, same place, 180 up down thing, still like 12th, and my chain snaps. Myette drags a huge group by me as I stand there. Myette! I could have gotten on Matt’s wheel. I love Matt’s wheel. Its fast and smooth, and I had the legs to stay on him. A good result was possible. Oh well. I was at the pits, basically, so I walked over figuring, what the heck, eh? Mark tossed in a SRAM link and sent me on my way.

By this time I was behind the 45 and 55s. I could see Foley battling Burke up there, and figured I needed to catch them just to get some air time in Solo’s blog. I caught them, feeling pretty good, but riding within myself but still hard, thinking about the 3 race coming up (I signed up for both).  I kept the pace pretty high and had a decent workout post mechanical. Money in the bank.

I finished, grabbed some water, and lined up in the back of the 3s with Zank and Kenny. Off we go and I move up pretty well. Loads and loads of wheel chopping and shitty line taking and surging and over braking ensued for a lap. I was moving up pretty well, probably 20s, when who appears, magically, in the Cat 3 race, but CCR. I noticed him cause he was wiping out in front of me. Sort of twice. It was kind of messy. Again in the 180 up down thing before the barriers.

I went by on the outside, I said “Hi Carl”. I think that is all I said, but he was not in his happy place and seemed bothered by that, muttering something about me being kryptonite or something. Anyway, off I go with my flock of seagulls in tow.  Lap or two later, as I go to hop the log on the way left, some 3 tries to pass by sprinting up beside me and hopping the log in the middle, where its tallest. He made it over but stacked it on landing, flipping over the bars just fast enough to fly into me as I rode from left to right back onto the middle line. I fell, my brakes jammed up, my levers got stuck in his rear wheel, etc. etc.  Good times.

The next lap, we are barreling down the gravel rock pile of a road, and as we get to the loose left hand turn, where the EMT’s park (hint hint) I am coming in hot, as I was riding the berm and letting the by slide thru the turn. I am about to lean into the apex when here comes CCR, dive bombing the inside, yelling for me to “not chop his line”. I am of course confused as to what line he is referring, since I had pulled the train all the way down the road, and there was really only one line/groove thru that corner, and I had it, being first. But apparently if you just stuff your front wheel up into somebodies business and call dibs, they are supposed to yeild, as opposed to leaning a little and wrecking you straight into the bushes.

I know its Carl, and I know there are already too many crash incidents between us, so I went off line, got out into all the sandy loose kuck, lost all my speed, screwed up the guy behind me, etc. etc. and proceeded to chase him down. I passed him back in the sandpit. Somewhere later he passed me back and gapped me.

I rode a group for a lap or two, hoping they would pull him back. They all sort of died out so I went thru them and pulled them around and dropped most of them for a couple laps. With 3 to go and 2 to go I was really giving ‘er and I had Carl really really close. Alas, second race, everyone else had a last lap surge and I had a last lap fade, and Chandler Delinks, who is really fast but flatted, came tearing thru with a train on his wheel and I lost several spots. Chandler ended up catching Carl and sprinting him on the line.

All in all, I was happy with both efforts, but disappointed with both races as they both ended in poor results. I had good legs and got in two good race efforts back to back though. Money in the bank.

Oh, and it was REEDICKULOUSLY dusty. Like, the worst. Ever.