As I waited for the start of my group, I kept wishing I wore my helmet with the visor, but left it in the car since I didn’t expect a Biblical torrent. With water dripping down my helmet and onto my cheeks, I rolled to the start line and hoped beyond hope the trail wasn’t muddy. Ten seconds to start and my jersey is completely soaked and glued to by back. I can hear rain pellets beating against my helmet and feel them stinging the back of my neck. “This is going to be miserable.” I think to myself.
We’re off and racing toward the trailhead and I’m out front. When I reach the trail, I find a small river rushing downhill. Almost instantaneously, I get sand and water in my eyes and squint as I navigate my way down the “trail”. All I want to do is stay upright and hopefully open a gap so I can clear my eyes. Maybe two miles in the trail, I catch the end of the 30-39 group and start working my way through. I also start losing my rear brakes and sliding in the corners.
Just before a series of small climbs, I’m passed by a single-speed racer only to have him stall out on several climbs and seriously slow me down. This was aggravating since I was literally on his rear wheel and wanted to get around him. All I could do was sit back and watch this guy grind up climbs I knew I could blow over. In any event, Andrea in the women’s 30-39 group is soon on my wheel. My real brakes are completely gone by this time, and I only have my front in working order. The trail is a greasy mess in places and water puddles in others. I eventually manage to pass Mr. single-speed but later clip a tree and crash as I’m sliding around. Andrea passes me as I’m getting back on my bike, but I soon catch back up and work my way around a few more in the 30-39 group. Toward the end of the first lap, I slide down a switchback and roll off the trail. I push my bike back onto the trail and get back on where the trail climbs out to the finish area. As I’m getting started, Andrea goes past but she lets me around as we’re going into the last lap.
About half way into the second lap, my front brakes start to fail, and I’m in survival mode simply trying to avoid a mechanical problem and crashes. I shift into my granny gear to avoid stressing the chain and gingerly drift through the corners. This works to a point since I did avoid mechanical problems, but not necessarily the crashes. My rear wheel slid from under me on a rocky downhill section buttered nicely with mud. After that, I decided discretion is the better part of valor and chose to walk anything that looked too hazardous. Why take chances when the race is in the bag? With three miles to go, I completely lose my brakes and I’m just trying to finish.
I end my suffering with first place in 2:19:12.
