Building Character?

Racing this weekend was located in the bowels of western Connecticut. It was a southern California drive from the highway – 45 minutes to go less than 20 miles. There just is not an easy way to get to Winsted, CT.

Finally arriving in town, we parked at the local high school wondering what type of course would be carved out of this small hillside town race put on by the local fire department. My first reaction was that this was going to be much like the NORBA national circuit races……. begging for a technical section. (Sorry folks, I do not consider NORBA NMBS switchbacks technical even if they are rutted out.)

I quickly signed up for the short track race so I could get a quick look at the course. Straight after the football field start we were thrown into a maze of rocks and climbing switchbacks and then down a very narrow swath of trail and a hard right turn back up the pavement to the start/finish area. For the warm-up I tried to locate the best lines and took some scenic routes like the early pioneers, wandering into the pile of glass without puncturing a tire. My posse spent half an hour picking glass off the course, learning from one of the fire fighters that every time it rains glass “blooms” like mushrooms on this trail. It was the first toasty race of the season in the northeast and I was pretty happy not to be sporting arm warmers and slathering warming oils on my chilly toes.

For the short track start we chicks were bundled in with the dudes. It was a matter of position for this race start. I got stuck behind the clog of clods who were trying to maneuver through the rocks and dismounted. The guy in front of me swung his leg wide like he was getting off of a horse and clobbered me square on the elbow with the heel of his shoe. That hurt. (He was a gentleman and apologized after the race……so now I can’t complain….darn it!).

Trying not to get thrown out of focus, I squeezed between the adrenalin junkies and found my way to the top of the hill. Many laps later into this 30 minute puking festival I kept trying to go faster. I was in the lead. Then I bit it hard. Over the handle bars I went with force on the narrow squirrel path. I am not sure how it happened, but I jumped right back on my bike to finish. My adrenalin pumped its way through my body in overdrive and I overheated. I lost my lead. My only consolation prize was lapping one of the expert racers three times. I took second and tiptoed out on the XC race course for a pre-ride/cool down.

Pre-riding the course was a smart move. Swimming and playing water games after the race to cool off and soak my rock rash legs was not. Do you ever bonk in your sleep? I did. First time. I woke at 1 AM with a start – either it was the pain of hunger or the loud growl from my belly screaming for chow. Sneaking into the kitchen I inhaled some grub and then was back in the sheets to grab some more ZZZZ’s.

During my pre-race warm-up for the cross country race my legs felt like heavy driftwood. All I wanted to do was curl up next to the pool and call it a nap day. My body was rejecting my pleas to race. I found some shade upwind from the port-o-potty stench in the sweltering 90 degree heat for the warm-up. For once I did not panic about getting the start line. I took my sweet time – like those slow moving people who cross against the lights and hold up traffic. While waiting for our wave to go my foot stuck to the melting tar sealing a pavement crack. It sure was hot out.

At the whistle, I stomped off the start line. I figured it would be better for me risk blowing up on the first technical section than it would be getting around someone. I made it through in the top three. On the first descent the leader in the race took a fall right where I ate it the previous day – so it wasn’t me after all! The XC course was nice and technical winding through trees and roots with some stiff long climbs over granite rock outcrops. The local stump pullers took off and I did my best trying to hang in with them and not let them out of site. For the first couple of laps there were three of us racing together, swapping positions taking precarious passing lines so that we would not be held up by the other while we tried to catch the race leaders.

By my third lap I found my rhythm and stayed ahead of the other two chicas. Alas, I had lost sight of the leaders. I held my secret mantra in my head during each climb and descent. A few times my mind wandered, but I pulled back into focus fairly quickly. I kept the legs churning as I stood up and tried to sprint out of the corners and the tops of the climbs. My lower back was taking a beating as I strained to keep my speed on the climbs and bounced over rocks and roots on the way down. I was racing. It felt good. There was no relief during the race – even through the feed zones. I had to force myself to slow down and guzzle from my water bottles to be sure I stayed hydrated.

When the official tells you at the start line you have 5 four mile laps you have make up a game in your head to remember what lap you are on. At the feed zone in the middle of the race course, one of the fire department dudes asked me if I knew what lap I was on……it was as if he was practicing checking my vitals from the lawn chair. Did I really look that bad to him? Luckily he did not try to hold my neck in traction or cut my clothes off with trauma shears. So yes, I was on lap four and belted out my response so he would not feel inclined to take me off the hill in a stretcher.

I rolled through my fifth and final lap with a vengeance. I was not going to slow down. I sucked a gel down and chased it with water raring to finish strong. And finish strong is what I did. I finished 5th and I closed the gap on the time between me and the leaders. I did not crash or walk my bike. What a wonderful day.