It was like one of those dreams where everything seems real but you know its not because a few things are off. I was on my mountain bike suffering up that nasty steep climb at Greenbrier State Park. The one that goes on forever. My legs are cranking, burning. Monotonous. Mechanical. Just doing their job. I glance up the hill. Chappy. I can't see his face but for a moment an image of Chappy grimacing flashes in my head. Chappy suffers with the best. I steal a look behind. Thayer. Grimacing. Eyes back to my front wheel, moving towards me then away, and towards me again as my head bobs with my pedal strokes. I never raced Chappy at Greenbrier. Or Thayer. I look up the hill again, it's not Chappy anymore, it's Stevens. And now we are on a different trail - still Greenbrier but now its the opening climb. Werner is pulling alongside me, we are chasing Stevens. I push harder and Werner slips back out of view. I hear a voice but it's not Werner or Stevens. "Hey man." I look back but there is only Werner. He's grimacing like Chap. Again, "Hey man." I know that voice...but can't make the connection...
Four weeks ago we raced Fair Hill Cross and earlier in that week I learned that my job was moving west to Dallas - with our without me. My initial thought was, "Yeah, no way. I live here. In the Northeast. I guess I'll be finding a new job." Throughout the week I chewed on it a bit and there were a lot of reasons moving west made sense - a truly rare career opportunity and it mostly works for Jenny and Tyler's situations. So by the end of the week we had already decided that moving was a likely outcome. For the rest of the week my mind was busy with the business side...family...the personal finances. I hadn't thought too much about racing bikes. On the short ride to Fair Hill it all started sinking in. The biking community around here is just awesome. Visitors tell us so but we don't need them to - we know. Before the Fair Hill race the whole 45+ crew was riding in long circles in this narrow piece of field near the staging. Keeping the legs warm, waiting for the starter to show up, waiting to get things started. Single file, two wide, three wide...guys just riding around, chatting it up, keeping nerves calm and just catching up. I jumped around...two groups forward...fall back three.
"Dr. Barry...take it easy on us man."
"Feather-man...morning sir...Kelly, how you feeling buddy?"
"Deluxx posse...looking good boys."
"Stevens you ready for this shit?"
"Werner...how did Emma do?"
"Marty...Ray...'sup fellas..."
And so on. So many good guys. Most were probably taking this scene for granted - not thinking much about it. Obviously not looking at it through my lens but they know it's some good shit we have here. They all know.
This past week was another double racing radness weekend and Saturday took me to Wrightsville, PA for Rivertown Cross. The venue is top notch. A public park with little short hilly sections and a single-track power straight section racing right along the Susquehanna River. There may be some equal venues but certainly none better on our MAC and PACX circuit. The course raced well but it needs a little love. A little more thought here and there. Some wider lanes for sure. Two years racing cross and suddenly I'm an expert right?
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| Quality venue. |
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| Rivertown reflections. |
I had a front row start and everything went well. Whistle, smash, click, smash, smash. Perfect. I fell in fourth wheel behind Kelly, Reuther and Barry. Kelly was leading and laying down a blistering pace that I wasn't able to hold and a gap formed between me and the lead group. I looked back a few times and it didn't look like I was holding anyone back, but after a few minutes I heard someone bearing down on me. Blair didn't preregister so he had started from the last row and it didn't take him long to work his way through. I moved over and let him by and now I was riding in 5th place. I stayed on Blair's wheel and we were starting to close the gap on the lead group as we finished the first lap. A minute later I remember thinking "Blair's pace doesn't seem hard enough" and I found out why - Blair's front tire was going flat. So I was back up to 4th place with a slight gap back to 5th and the front group was way off. I was in no-man's land. DLowe and Miesemer were coming with Lux right behind. DLowe caught me and burned my wheel for most of the 4th lap and he just about pulled along side me on the log over. There was a line I was taking where you could stay on the bike and squeak between the log and the stake instead of dismounting - Dave's dismount proved faster but I guess he botched his remount and I pulled away. Then he went down a minute later in the off camber starting the last lap. Hated to see that - Dave was killing it and I would have preferred to have raced it out - it would have been a tough last lap. Of course it was tough enough anyway - for the last lap Miesemer was pretty much right on me and Lux close behind but both needing another lap to finish the job - so I was able to hold on to 4th. I didn't expect to have that good of a ride but more on that later.
Sunday was West Chester Cross and I was hoping to finally hit top form and place well in a race with a lot of big guns. So far this year a single digit finish in a super stacked field had eluded me and West Chester would be more of the same. The course was slick and muddy after an overnight freeze and thaw. All year I had been putting off setting up a mud tire for that special occasion and now it was here and the Clement MPXs were not working. And I could probably have worked with the poor handling but my legs weren't working so good either. Like Saturday, I started great and went into the course 4th or 5th but right away I knew something was off. Just not enough snap out of the turns and not enough power on the straights. I don't remember the exact order - I think Featherman went by me first, then Marty and Ray. And on the second lap I went backwards a few more spots. By that time I had slipped out 5 or 6 times trying to find a line with my slippery tires. With a lap and a half to go Lux caught me and went around. He was driving his bike so much better than me but I couldn't make his lines work for my tires any better than my own. Still, I hung on to Lux for the whole last lap - right on his wheel at times, dangling off at others. And the whole time DLowe was coming - inching closer every time I stole a glance until he was just a few bike lengths off. But in the final bit, coming down onto the soccer field, I had pulled back up and got a good run...made a move...made it stick. 11th place. Earlier in the year I think I would have screwed that up...tried to go to early or not timed it right. I was pretty stoked to work that out. West Chester is a great race. I understand that piece of ground is being sold...that if the race is at Rustin High next year it will be a different course. Too bad...hopefully the new West Chester Cross will be just as rad.
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| Lucky fours? Meh... |
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What exactly happened in my life that I ended up
wearing a pink skin suit and euro glasses?
Photo: Dennis Smith |
"Hey man, are you alright?" I knew that voice. Fatmarc. "You don't look so good."
I snapped out of my daydream and opened my eyes. I was on the trainer in the parking lot at Rivertown. Warming up for the 45+ race. Hunched over, head hanging down almost hitting the stem...spinning an easy gear. On autopilot, just daydreaming about racing all my racing friends. And about not racing all my racing racing friends any more. I laughed a nervous laugh, "Yeah man I'm fine. Just daydreaming. Is it bad if I feel like I could crawl into my car and just take a nap?"
"It probably means you'll win the race." We laughed.
"Yeah I doubt that but seriously man, thanks for looking out for me."
"Anytime. You were looking pretty rough man. I didn't know if maybe I should call an ambulance."
I laughed again, "Yeah I'm good man. I was just really....daydreaming...let's go do this shit..."
