Tweekin' Out! Sea Otter 4/9/06

STAGE FOUR: CROSS-COUNTRY Sunday, April 9, 2006

The fourth and final stage of the Sea Otter Classic was the cross country race. The women had a leisurely 1:10pm start time to ride on race course consisting of two 19 mile laps with about 2400 feet of climbing each lap, up short, steep climbs, on singletrack through the trees, rocks, sand, meadows and… you guessed it MUD! The day started out cool and cloudy and by race time it was drizzling.

As Tweek from South Park would say, "Aaargh! Too much pressure, I can't take it!!" I was nervous. We queued up in the spitting rain for the final thrill of the mud festival. I tried to tuck myself in the middle of the pack to stay warm and to find a good position. We started on the Laguna Seca raceway track up the famous Corkscrew to meet up with a bit of dirt. With a pack of mountain bikers on the road steering fat knobby tires we sounded like a swarm of bees launching an attack. I felt pretty comfortable in the pack, drafting, coasting and dodging wheels that suddenly braked.

I like playing in the dirt and once we turned off through the tight barricades onto the fire road I was back in my element. The racers were really aggressive. One started to push me off the road down the side of the hill- I pushed back. Then I proceeded to take myself out by riding my front tire into someone’s back wheel. Not one of my finer moments. Thankfully, it was a short climb. Then we bombed down a hill fast and furiously to meet up with the swooping singletrack through the trees. Low and behold a throng of rude expert men racers, who started after us, caught us and started passing. One of the guys dropped his chain and settled in to fix it in the middle of the trail. I kindly asked him to move his bike out the way. He proceeded to run me off the trail, slamming my left foot and catching his pedal in my front wheel bending my spokes. I was wicked mad.

Trying to shake it off, I got back on and kept riding. I was a car in the train of the expert men and pro women racers up a steep, greasy muddy trail. Another one of the rude expert men thought it was a good idea to pass me – where he thought he was going to go, I am not sure, we were wheel to wheel climbing up the hill. I was taken out again.

At this point I was pretty discouraged by the turn of events. I was just trying to keep the legs turning. I made it up the rest of the climb only to encounter two mud sections that wanted to suck my shoes off my feet. I battled through and met up with some more fire road. It looked like the climb was going to be endless. Death marches in riding usually do not occur until after a four or five hours of riding and when I have almost run out of water and I am craving chili cheese fries. Sadly, I was not even finished with my first 19 mile lap and I just wanted to be done with the race.

My pro southern California racer comrade, Christie, rolled up to me and gave me a pep talk about staying positive. Her energy was infectious. It was nice having company on such a miserable day. We crossed the start/finish line together and set off for a second lap. I wanted to make sure I had enough fuel so I started chomping on a Clif Bar. I shoved the whole thing in my mouth while I was trying to draft behind Christie back up the Corkscrew. Mud was flying off her wheel in my face while I attempted to close my mouth, looking like a chipmunk with energy bar chunks in my cheeks with buck teeth.

Once I got the food down, I felt a lot better. I pedaled on the downhill, caught some great speed and set off to finish the race strong. I did not care how much pain my legs were in. I mashed gears to get through the steep climbs. My whole attitude shifted. I was on a mission. When I got to the mud pits, I found my way around them so I did not have to battle the sloppy goo. It was at this point that I started catching and passing women who had ridden me off their wheels at the beginning of the race. I was starting to make a come back. It felt good.

Up on the fire road, my lower back started to hurt. It was a persistent ache and I could not figure out the cause. Ignore, ignore, ignore, the pain. Time to grind through and finish. Baaaaaaa! Yes, at the top of one of the hills a herd of sheep were there to greet me. I had to yell, “Stay!” to a brave one trying to cross the fire road. It listened. Then I started to think…..that was not mud! Eewwwww!

There still was a lot of climbing left. But karma does surprise you once in a while. Some of those expert tough guys were starting to drop like flies. I guess when you only carry one water bottle and do not have anything to eat for 38 miles, your legs start to cramp and you have to stop on the side of the trail to stretch or pedal really slowly. All my cylinders were fired up. I pushed through every section, slid around on some worn out muddy parts of the trail and put the hammer down once I got on the raceway. I was not going to let up until I crossed the finish line. Yippee! I finished and came in 43rd. And the back pain – turns out that I busted my front shock/fork again. So I had no give on the descents, taking all the jostling in my lower back.

These last four days were the hardest days of racing I have ever participated in. Sure I have been on teams for 24 hour mountain bike races. But nothing can compare to the length of these races, the world class competition and the intensity at each start line. Out of the 69 women who started, only 53 actually finished all four events. This experience has certainly prepared me for rest of the season’s events to be more mentally and physically resilient.