The Big Valley Weekend

I raced twice last weekend. That was dumb.

On Thursday night, I picked up my new 'cross frame from Speedgoat, and threw it together with a mix of nice and terrible parts that I had lying around. The drive train was one of the terrible parts. Along with mismatched square taper cranks from the box of misfit parts at work, the only gear I could get good tension with was a 44x16.

44x16 is too big for 'cross

I checked all the parts of my bike to make sure I wouldn't be granted a pride saving mechanical.

I start pumping up my tires again next to the start line. "Hey. Are you ready to go?" Everybody in the field is staring at me. "Uh.. I guess" I say and slowly put down the pump.

Some guy counts down. Everybody sprints away. I don't. Most of the field passes me in the first 20 seconds. My legs are entirely blown. I can't climb up the mellow Ohio grades on the back side of the course.

Half of the course is single track. I pass a few guys without really thinking about it. A few seconds later somebody rams their shoulder into me. "Dude what the hell are you doing?" I yell as we wind through the pines.

"You started it! That's what happens when you get all aggressive in the single track." he replys.

"But I didn't run into you." I say.

"You ran into me!" he says.

"What are you talking about? You were behind me. I can't see behind me." I say. Now I'm confused and annoyed. We ride in silence for a few more seconds, then apologize to each other.

I slow down. My quads and back are burning from accelerating out of all the corners. I spend 45 minutes trying to stay ahead of the guy in the purple Chamois Butter kit. I'm accused of "Bringing that Fabio shit" every lap. When I finish, I feel like dirt. I wasn't last in the A race, but I had to be close.

Colleen and I head back to Wooster. There's piss under the oven. Gluten free cookies in the oven. It smells like piss and cookies in the kitchen.

Sleep. Wake up. Back to Camp Manatoc for the mountain bike race.

Colleen's beginner race is first.

She catches a lot of the guys, comes in 2nd, and has a blast. Decides to race sport next time. Rides a more manly gear than Don Powers. Victory!

I still feel like a dirt pile, but it's my turn to race.

There's a big field and lots of fast dudes.


Everybody passes me in the first 20 seconds.

The course has tons of flat power sections, punchy climbs, and nothing technical. Everything that hurts me. And I already hurt.

I've never hurt this bad during a race. I keep riding. The course is super fast and fun. My legs are killing me.

I crack with 1.5 miles to go. Jake Grantham and a SS guy merrily roll away from me. There's nothing I can do to keep up. The guy in the purple Chamois Butter kit is right behind me.

Finish. 27 miles in 2:10. Man that hurt. I'm 10th overall. Not too bad, but it sure hurt more than usual. I shoulda stayed on the couch for the weekend and eaten pissy cookies. No more races the week after stage races.