Boiling Cauldron: Wompatuck State Park 9/8-9/9

I have finally pulled myself away from the TV remote and a tub of ice cream to recount the last few mountain bike races……

Racing at the Wompatuck State Park was not a long drive. It seemed strange not to have to drive for two or more hours and crash in a hotel for the night. We even joked about simulating a long pre-race drive. But there was no need for that….it was the NEMBA festival complete with music, food, folks and fun!

The final Root 66 short track race on Saturday was super hot. It was about 95 degrees. Add a two hour race delay and no shelter from the heat makes for an energy zapping event. Even so, I was ready to take on the challenge. Steve’s Uncle Danny even made the trek in from the north shore to see the race! My fan club keeps growing.

The competitors lined up at the start and zipped through a canopy of pine trees and a soft needle-covered ground, a quick shot back out on the open grass into the trees with some technical rocks and roots, a tight turn onto pavement, up a loose rock hill, through some forest single track and out back in the open field to the start/finish. The loop was just under a mile and felt like the longest short track course of the season.

The women were tossed in with the men racers who always make it interesting. Testosterone was flying everywhere and the energy levels varied greatly. There were guys just tooling along drooling from the thick waves of heat and others who took off like shots and those who faded fast. I caught up to one of the faders and requested a pass, but he was not inclined to let me get a head of him. So when we hit the pavement, I floored it and passed him. I kept my steady pace and headed up the loose rock hill when he came zipping by me again. It is interesting how these guys get back into the race when a chick passes them. Anyhow, he must have used all his juice on the hill and proceeded to shut it down. I told him, “The rule is if you are going to pass me you cannot slow down.” He finally gave in that I was going to go faster and let me go through.

I endured many sweaty laps and no crashes. Cheers were heralded in the trees and at the start/finish line. Finally finishing my 30 minutes of heat puking pain, I claimed a first place victory as well as first place for the Root 66 Short Track Series!

For Sunday’s cross country event, I carefully planned out my strategy. I had done several pre-rides of the course and even went out with Bike Barn, the event sponsor, to help trim and tag the course. It had been desert dry out here and I felt like I was back in Southern California. I felt that this was going to be my redeeming race. Well, things change – like the weather. It was a misty humid cool morning.

The night before the race it rained hard. Luckily, the ground was so dry and thirsty it soaked up the moisture nicely. Still, this course was rocky and rooty. It was not completely dry so everything was slicker ‘n snot for 22 miles. I waddled off the start line knowing what lay ahead pacing myself into the race.


My aunt and uncle drove in from Connecticut for an afternoon of cheering and race entertainment. Steve once again loyally stationed himself at the feed zone, giving newbies lessons on proper handoffs of cups of water and juice.

Unfortunately, my pre-rides went flying out the window. As I tried to bust through the technical sections on my narrow tires I greased off everything imaginable. I was feeling strong and confident, but without traction I had to settle into doing the best I could without serious injury.

I tried to make up for lost time on the flats and powered up the climbs. Dabbing was a constant on the slippery rocks and roots. I tentatively pedaled my way over the slimy bridges. I caught and passed one women, Mo, and encouraged her to jump on to catch the rest of the pack. Later I learned she had crashed and was having bike issues.

Continuing on through the race, I wove in and out of the single feed zone that at times was a downhill feed. Huh!?!? I skidded through to grab a water bottle. Working my way back into the woods, several dude racers came up behind me asking me, “How much further do we have to go?” and “Are we there yet?” I am not sure what category they were racing in, but it really seemed like an odd question for a RACE! My replies were not tender and nurturing like, “Quit whining and keeping pedaling.” Or “Don’t make me pull this car over……” I did have empathy for one fellow who took a wrong turn and got off course taking a long way around. Ooops!

Another group of dudes came up on my wheel and they were actually determined. It was nice to see that they kept pushing themselves. I kept them in sight and chatted with a few. Hitting the last stop at the feed zone, I zoomed up the pavement hill to slide back into the trees. I was setting a mean pace for the last three miles to the finish line. Then I dropped my chain. Grrrrr! I had to pop off my bike and wrench it back on to the cogs. I jumped back on the bike and spun out the last bits of technical baby head rocks and rooty tangles.

The race came to a close and I rolled over the finish line in fourth place. No crashes. The only injury was a hole burned in my lower back by the tool I had in the jersey pocket. Ow! But nothing a cheeseburger wouldn’t cure!