The night before a race, I get real mechanical. Methodical. I pack and re-pack. I lay everything out. I laugh at myself. How stupid can you get over a stupid little race. Its not like I’m going to nationals. But its my way of doing things, and considering the time I wasted all week daydreaming of a strong finish, it seems only right. I put on some great music and start pumping myself up by packing everything just so.
So I was quite amp’ed when I arrived at the MN State Cyclocross Championships. It was a beautiful day. It was crisp, even cold, but sunny and dry. The state championships have been held at the same location for many years. It was there-last year- that I decided I would give cross a go. The course incorporates a long bumpy-gravel road, stretches of grass and a few barriers. It also has a sassy hill and a nasty section of tall wooden stairs.
It’s a great course. It is fast and challenging.
I lined up, swallowed some goo and hit the first stretch hard. Lungs felt red-hot with pain. Legs felt strong and bouncy, like they could do something today. Lungs didn’t so much, so I fell into my usual attack and recover mode; leave a rider behind and go get the next one. After a while, I ended up with the same group I’ve been racing against for the last couple weeks. In fact, missing last week’s race set me back further still against several racers I once could beat. Which is unfortunate.
The lungs were hurting and the heart was pounding. In my head, I usually get a song going to get my mind off of the pain. No song was in head. Only pain. 2 laps down, three to go, I finished my run up the big hill. Rounded a tight corner and headed back down.
Then I flatted.
That’s it. Seasons over. No glory. No cheering.
But next year; oh man, next year.
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