Forget the face
Sunday morning at Fontana. Racing XC at Southridge and it was a cool chilly morning with the promise of better things ahead. While prerunning a portion of the race course as a warmup, I couldn't shake the feeling that it was baring its teeth at me. I flowed it smooth enough, but you'd better pay attention on this one. It will bite and bite hard.
Rolling up to the start line, I was surprised at the turnout, obviously a nod to the Nationals. Instead of the usual half dozen regulars, there was at least thirteen of us in the Men's Sport 45-49 class. I took a spot on the front row and soon it was our turn to get started. Don came back with the bullhorn, gave us our brief instructions and counted down the last five seconds before nailing the red button.
At the harsh honk, bikes shot forward as quads drove into cranks and grounded feet clicked in. I took the front feeling good and then up onto the gravelly fireroad. Somebody pulled alongside and after a few nice words, I dropped him too. Still leading, rolling nicely through the whoops and then up the first moderate incline. I sensed at least one guy on my behind, but wasn't sweating it as there really wasn't anywhere to pass and I was going fast enough.
Dump out onto the paved water-tank road. Steep beyatch and immediately my competition pulls alongside. It's my good bud and long time rival David Stowell. His age just bumped him into my class this year and we had battled more than a few times when I was a few years younger and in his class. Dave was pretty serious today and we were climbing side-by-side, up the steep paved bitch. He got ahead and then I gave it a hard push and edged it ahead. Looking behind us, we had the hill to ourselves and had dropped everybody else by blocks. I'm riding with a minor fractured elbow, just got over the long term chest congestion, but I felt good nonetheless as we battled each other side-by-side. He had just a little more 'umph' than I did yesterday and beat me to the s/t entrance. The dog fight is on.
I rolled in behind him and decided I'd work it from back here. Let him have the pressure of leading out and I'll just tail him and keep him in sight. He was working hard and this was an opportunity to work on my mental weakness of being behind, even if it is second place. I don't like it. I like to be up front and I like to win, but that won't always be the case and I have to accept that.
Caught him on the downhill, were I had just a little edge on the technical and passed him. This friggin' race course is really dangerous. We got to the bottom and I was up front and hauling. Up the fireroad and then up the backside of the ridge. I grannied it and Dave caught me, passing me. We then descended back down, through hairy sections. Coming around fast S/T turns and seeing embedded cantelope and bowling ball sized rocks directly in your wheelpath and the alternative is caroming into the smooth v-shaped rut that constituted the rest of the turn. Don't you dare make a mistake. High speed G-outs with rocks embedded on the back-side kept you on your toes as you flicked the front wheel on the upside.
I kept him in sight as we climbed the next ridge under a bright blue sky and cumulous clouds. Rolling across the up-and-down S/T there was numerous solid sections of exposed rocks that bounced and clattered both rider and bike. Again, more high speed G-outs. Sail in hard and nail it out while banking the bike hard and to the left or right. Dave's still there. We get to the bottom and we're crossing the flat lands between the two ridges. I'm hanging back and recovering. Saving some for the second lap, yet keeping him in sight. We're almost to the finish line. Only have to climb up the short 75 foot rocky hill on the side of the ridge. I get to the bottom, just as he's clearing the top. Good.
I get to the top and start working the flat maze-like gravel path. Hauling and doing pretty friggin' good. I skim a bush to the left at high speed and the front tire makes contact with something very hard. In an instant I am over the bars and sliding on the front of my face in the gravel. My mouth fills with rocks and dirt as I face-brake to a stop. I get up and get back on the bike, get it in gear and start pedalling. I can feel moisture on my face and put a glove there. Blood and a lot of it. I put a forearm up under my nose and it picks up a big smooch of blood as a result. I take a swig off the water bottle, spitting dirt, blood and pea gravel out. I grittily wiggle my teeth. They feel solid. Then as I'm riding, I'm wiggling them with a bloody glove to verify the fact. I'm still second place and I'm gonna do my best to catch the lead.
I'm rolling by and getting the usual looks from the few spectators and course-workers, but I'm feeling OK. I don't see Dave anymore. He's put too much distance on me after I wrecked. But I ain't giving up. Work the hills. Work the course. I geek it a few times on some of the more challenging downhill parts, losing more time. But what are you going to do? Now the stomach is killing me and I'd end up having problems with it the rest of the day, but I drive on.
I don't feel like a third place today. But I sure ain't doing good enough for a first place either, that's for sure. I cross the line for second and Dave is there waiting with his buds. I tell him he did great. He didn't want a win on my wreck, but he didn't get it that way, I remind him. He did better on the hills than I was and to try to blame it on the wreck seemed trite and chicken$hit. My bad. I look like somebody ran a cheese grater under my lip and chin and then gave my cheek a nice little scuff just for the fun of it, but it doesn't need stitches. It just looks bad. It's that time to step back and pull it back together again, as I've done many times in the past. Too many wrecks lately and it's starting to ding me.
Posted by STP  a 45 year old Racer riding a K2 Razorpiggie from P'Dale on 01/16/06
Responses: (1) (2)
|
- Re: Forget the face
nice work STP and glad the wing is betta!!
Maybe I'll see ya out there next time.
ONWARD
paz afuera
Posted by Papisimo riding a Bike on 01/16/06
|
- Re: Forget the face
I had been debating with myself weather to go and watch for a while or not. I stayed home and did my honey-do's.
Still a very hard fought race and you should be very proud. Losing to someone of Daves calibur is nothing to be ashamed of. You did real good again, Reg.
Posted by Pain Freak riding a Surly Turner from The 909 on 01/16/06
|
|
