Yesterday was the third in the Front Range Mountain Bike series because the weather finally held and the grounds were dry enough to ride. Wish I could say the same about me. Got a wee bit of a headcold from one of my students on the last day of school and this was my souvenir to start the summer break and number three on the race series.
Right when I become unglued, physiologically I feel it building up like a pot of water about to boil in the tea kettle. It slowly builds to a crescendo then BLAM! I completely come unhinged. Yesterday's race was a bit like that. It was a 50 minute, short track XC event and for some reason not a whole lot of people showed up in any category which is unfortunate because the sponsor who runs the event is good people.
When Eric counts us down and we take off, I'm sitting sixth in the singletrack. Best start so far. The weather's pretty warm and this is my first race where I'm not wearing any leg warmers/arm warmers, booties...etc. I'm starting to bake, when internally I hear the "Pop goes the Weasel" song. It's an English nursery rhyme. I figure good, the race is about over. I look at my watch and only 30 minutes have gone by! Not a good sign.
When verse two of "Pop goes the Weasel" is going through, that's when I Pop! The remainder of my group passes me on the one of the three gruntish climbs on the course. I concentrate to get my bearing back and in the remainder of the course I pass four of 'em back.
Good enough for 12th. My head's about to explode from the race when it's done.
Okay, this outcome is fuel for motivation to get my a$$ back into some form of race fitness (minus the headcold) now that school's over and I can get more than 5 hours in a week as a Colorado bike racer.
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