The Second Half

Good time on the bike…

Not having port-a-potties at a bike race is something I have not experienced before. 250+ racers all looking around at each other – and the woods – thinking “where can I go”? Not to mention the pre-race jitters usually brew up the ole’ Mississippi Mud which require more than a ‘drip dry’ when squatting in the brush. Let’s just say there were a lot of bitter, anxious, and uncomfortable faces at the starting line.

The call up for the Men’s Expert/Pro/Singlespeed came and off we went to the line. Being on the 1-gear machine, I took my proper place at the back of the first wave. Three other teammates were racing the single gear so I was looking at my competition, joking with my competition, while secretly wanting to cut their Achilles tendons with my multi-tool so I didn’t have to worry about them after the gun. Gooooooooo!

My brain actually worked this time and said to me:
Easy does it there son, this is 30 miles with a lot of rough singletrack, a warm day, and there’s no prize for the worst ‘bonk’ of the day.

I put it in chill mode and rode the first 5 miles smooth and steady, then ramped up the effort when the trail went up and rough. I found myself getting squirrly, riding too hard and making mistakes in the rocks. One boneheaded move left me on the ground in a pile of dirt, losing 15 seconds of time I had put into a guy I had just passed about 2 minutes back. The f*ckface made a funny comment “is this where you keep your water stash” – but I found it about as funny as Barack’s selection for VP and I didn’t laugh too hard, or at all really. I floored it to the 3.5 mile downhill back to the line and never saw that clown again.

The second lap was an exercise in patience. I was hot, and waiting to feel good, but I never quite did until I got passed by a teammate. He motivated me – and pulled me faster up the climb chasing him until we caught and passed another teammate who had shot off like a rabbit at the gun. BONK – he was toasted and bailed out of the race early. Just before the downhill I cramped pushing the 32x18 gear on a steep section, and had to work the cramp out for a minute or two – damn, I was drinking plenty and eating Endurolytes like they were skittles and still feeling slightly crampy and chilled on an 80 degree day. Yikes.

We got to the 3.5 mile downhill a second time, and I passed my last teammate. He’s sketchy on the loose stuff and I put one minute into him on the drop down. One lap to go. Out of fear of being caught again, I just put the pedal down until I started to fade physically. There was nobody near me, and I just passed the occasional beginner and Trailside Clyde all the way to the line. 2 hours, 51 minutes – good enough for 7th place in a field of 18. I was cooked, but not too dehydrated or barfing. One teammate was five minutes back, another 20 minutes back, and two were DNF’s. No trophy today, but bragging rights amongst teammates last a loooong time.

Fantasy football draft tonight. I’m a fantasy football geek. I know it and I’m OK with that.