Waaaah

Sadly, I don't think today's cyclocross race reached a critical measure: namely, would I have enjoyed my day more if I had just sat in a chair. This was recently made into a higher standard since I got a better chair, but still...

As far as rest/hydration/nutrition goes, it was fine. I got there early, scouted the course for a few laps, knew there were difficult bits...and more difficult bits...OK, it was not the course I might've hoped for, or that the race director would've hoped for, but you usually just have to be glad that there's a venue at all and make do. Racing for the first time last weekend, riding on the rough stuff wigged me out at first, but eventually I figured out how to go. Pain was in legs and lungs. On today's course, you could smell approaching flesh wounds.


Out the start, I got blown away by all the guys who are happier to play bump 'n' grind for the hole shot, so was probably in the 2nd half of the field by the time I got to the first full lap. Going 'round the fields, I recognized the jersey and bike of a rider who had boggled in front of me last week resulting in my own crash...and I didn't quite get past him. We got to the off-camber nastiness, he boggled, I crashed. I remounted, couldn't get bike to go, crashed again and clusterfucked the group behind me. I recognized a guy in that group too, having heard his favorite epithet ("Fuck, dude!") last week, also in the context of the guy who boggled in front of me. The other riders got around me, I tried to get my wits back, and rolled on...

About 50 feet later, in the middle of nothing, the front wheel locked up and I was lucky to run over the handlebars and not endo onto my face. In the middle of nothing. Walked back to the bike and discovered that in the middle of my little induced crashing escapade, I had picked up a rather large stick which had found its way into my front spokes--ergo, front wheel lock up. Stick removed, I could continue.

At this point, I was (a) out of sight of the entire field and (b) not having fun anymore. The chair was ahead by miles.


There was no need to try and no need to risk further injury to myself or my equipment. I soft-pedalled on. I seriously considered just pulling over at the finish line and handing in my number. But, I had paid my $35 and was in goofy bike clothes, so I soft-pedalled some more. By the end, I had figured out lines--sort of--on the goofy rocky off-camber things. I got lapped by the race leader only in the last lap (and he was ahead by a long shot), and when he came around I could sorta keep up with him, at least enough to know that I wouldn't have got lapped if I was in any mood to go hard earlier. Russell the Red Lantern was first to shake the winner's hand when I crossed the line right after him.

Then things got stupid again. My rear tire had developed a slow leak in the last quarter-lap. After crossing the finish line, I kept going on-course to pick up my water bottle from the start line. Anyone who did the race today knows that right after the finish line was the nastiest rockiest off-camber slope of them all, and I tried getting up it on a near-flat tire. Afterwards, I had fresh scrapes, my chain had escaped irrecoverably underneath my chain watcher, the tire was flat, and as I picked up the bike to carry it away, noticed that some funny steering sensations I had during the race probably came from my headset being almost completely frozen.


Now I only wanted to go home.

The drive home--still dirty, bloody, now hungry, cranky, with a bike non-functional at both ends--just wasn't happy.

This better be an isolated incident, 'cuz it's not worth it to spend so much time (75 miles drive each way) or money ($35 reg, $20 gas, $45 new headset) to not be entertained.

Yeah, this is a long whine.

Daily highlight: good to see pabcid and xbunny and migo, live 'n' kickin'.