Clear as MUD

Sunday I raced at Pat’s Peak in Henniker, NH. As you can see once you cross the border into New Hampshire the state government is really concerned about your safety (on the right is the State Safety Rest Stop building) while you purchase large amounts of alcohol at their outlet liquor store. Curious.

Other than New Hampshire filled with odd folks – which may be a condition of their environment compromising of too much fresh air, dense forests and lack of strip malls to keep them in tune with pop culture – it is a lovely state. Do they know about rain jackets?

After registering for the cross country race I found a fellow teammate, Scott, to go scope out the race course. We were delayed by a 30 minute deluge of rain and thunder before we ventured out. We managed to squeak in a pre-ride between the end of the 24 hour race and the beginning of the Sport XC race. The trails were technical, slippery, muddy and with strenuous climbs. The Root 66 promoters have yet to disappoint me on their choice of race venues.

As we started to line up for the beginning of the race, it began to rain again. The race official threatened to call the race if there was lightening as he reduced our five mile laps from 5 to 4. At the whistle we started on a grassy hill to wind our way up the mountain. My legs were not so cooperative. I just felt very lethargic. Trying to maintain a steady pace I kept the cranks churning. I popped my wheels over roots and rocks and crept through the deadly ditches on one of the descents. I managed to hold off a couple of racers as one slid out on a rooty turn and another rode off-course and had to double back. Toward the end of the race course there was some double-track and some folks camped out in a RV next to it. They had rigged up a ramp and posted a sign: “Ramp of Doom” and another obstacle: “Teeter Totter of Terror.” Since I am not into terror but still a sucker for a dare brought on by their ringing cow bells, I tested the ramp and caught some air. Yeeeehaaaw! Then I mistakenly took a right turn, following one of the Expert men racers to head down hill instead of the left-hand uphill climb. Now I was backtracking.

By the start of the second lap it started raining pretty hard. Just after I grabbed a water bottle in the feed zone I was having trouble seeing through my eyewear. I tried rinsing the mud off with squirts of water. That did not help. At this point I was not sure if the mud was on the inside or outside of my glasses. I kept plugging away spinning over the slickery roots – zipping my rear wheel several revolutions and wearing off bits of knobby tread. The rain did not let up. It kept coming in waves of heavy downpour. The trails in the trees were so dark and foggy it felt like I was doing a night lap in a 24 hour race. I finally removed my glasses after debating whether crashing into a tree from not seeing was better than having globs of mud flung into my eyeballs. Mud won.

By the third lap I was struggling through the mud. The race course had changed for each lap. Either the rain had washed out all the lines with mud or the lighting was completely different. One racer was keeping a steady pace just off my tail as we climbed past the feed zone. I was soaked and had a rock in my left shoe. I refused to stop for a silly pebble that would dig a hole in the flats of my foot and ruin my racing career for fear of getting passed. Thunder blasted through the skies and it rained cords but there was not enough lightening to call the race. I dug in to keep climbing strong. It was becoming impossible to ride the technical mud single-track climbs. I lost function of my front derailleur as it was clogged with mud and grass. I lost control of my bike as I slid down the twisty trails. Although I did not crash, I did some slow motion slides and laid my bike down a few times. To keep my spirits up I caught even more air on the Ramp of Doom.

The fourth and final lap I was ready to finish strong. The sun started to come back out and it was getting steamy swampy warm. However the single-track climbs were impossible to spin through unless I wanted to completely burn my legs out. So I ran. Yes, I RAN one complete section of the single-track fearful I was going to get passed by the couple of racers behind me. (Those of you who are trying to convince me that cyclo-cross – ahem, PSYCHO-cross- is fun, I am still NOT convinced.) Once it was possible to ride again, I saw another competitor ahead of me. I laser beamed my focus to catch her and I passed with ease. This was my last chance on the Ramp of Doom. I lined up for one last jump and took the uphill left turn with speed. Finally, I crossed the finish line to float in for a fourth place finish. Awesome. Absolutely awesome.