I came into this race with low expectations and pretty much got what I expected against a field of 10 riders in my category, one of who made the trip all the way from Waco, Texas. The Waco rider bitch slapped everyone in the time trial yesterday, so I had him pegged as the odds on favorite for the cross-country.
When my group rolls up to the line, I take a spot on outside left of the front row and instantly realize I picked a bad spot due to a small mound of dirt right where the path makes a slight left bend. Oh, Perfect!
The race official explained the rules about outside support, passing, and giving way to faster riders, then began the countdown. My start was sloppy, but I manage to make the single-track in the fifth position. The pace was fast, just like I expected, but whoever was driving the train turned on the jets about a mile into the Blue Trail and instantly fractured the group. I manage to latch onto the caboose and hold on for dear life. It wasn’t long before the course turned extremely narrow and twisty. This is not something a tall person on a big bike considers fantasy material. The leaders begin to pull away from me until they are out of sight. By this time, two or three other riders close the gap from behind and latch onto my rear wheel. The trail eventually opens up a bit, and I'm able to pickup the pace. Unfortunately, I'm not able to shake the riders on my wheel despite my best efforts. Roughly, three or four miles into the race, I start running out of gas and grow weary of dragging my competition around. They eventually pass me and I find myself riding alone for a while, so I decide to settle down into a more comfortable pace to grind it out for the first lap and into the second lap.
It isn’t long before someone else closes in on me, so I kick it up again. He literally gets RIGHT ON my wheel and we even rub tires at one point through a series of small drops. I attack on a straight section of trail and briefly open a gap. My heart rate feels like it is off the charts as I push down the trail and eventually end up catching the two who got around me earlier. There are now five of us in a tight pack hammering down the trail at breakneck speed with my heart beating against the top of my helmet.
The lead rider in the group of five soon clips a tree and goes vertical in the most spectacular fashion. I roll off the trail and manage to dodge the carnage, but also find myself out front with a small gap. My escape is short-lived as I soon have two guys firmly locked in behind me. We battle for what seemed like an eternity until both get around and attack, leaving me to ride solo again.
Something weird happens during a race when you are riding alone and you know you’re not going to place. Call it acceptance or even a shitty attitude, but you begin to think about everything but going fast. All you want to do is finish the race. You just want to ride down the trail without puking your guts up and cross the line. The downside to this is you, knowingly or not, slow down too much.
As I’m riding down the trail, I soon pass someone in an orange kit leaning against his bike as if he just finished smoking a cigarette. A little further down the trail I pass someone changing a tube. This shakes me out of my fatalistic mood and I start going a faster. Roughly halfway into the last lap, I pass the tail end of the 30-39 group. For some reason, this really helps my sour attitude as I leave him further and further behind. Then it happens. Someone closes in on me from out of nowhere and settles in directly behind me. I’m literally dying on the vine with about two-miles to go and now find myself in a battle I don’t need or want. SHIT! I speed up and manage to get the occasional gap, but nothing I can hold for any period of time. I figure it will come down to a sprint, so I settle down and just ride my own pace. I know he is long gone if he gets around me, so I just ride and try not to worry about it too much. He’s about 12-inches off my rear wheel when we go through a section of trail studded with big roots and small dips. That is when I hear a loud thud quickly followed by the sound of a bike crash. Glancing back, I see his rear wheel in the air and know he bit it on a big roots just above a sharp dip in the trail. This seals my escape, and I ride the last two miles to the line solo.
I didn’t stick around for the results, but I’m sure I placed well into the bottom half.
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