Saturday morning we were agog with sports. Truthfully just my middle daughter and me. My middle daughter plays 7th grade basketball and if the time works out, I was going to do my last cyclocross event of the season-the Colorado State Cyclocross Championships.
If you've never witnessed the spectacle that is called 7th grade girls basketball, it doesn't have a running clock, the refs call all the fouls, every 30 seconds there is a jump ball, and it's pretty much a full contact sport. With that being said, it's still awesome watching my daughter get somewhat aggressive, taking shots, passing, and occasionally swatting a ball from an offensive player.
Fast forward to state cyclocross...
I get there late but manage to register. I get on the course to warm up but my dumb arse gets busted for warming up during a race. I wasn't being malicious, I pulled over when the racers came up, I know the preview flag was closed, yeah, I know that. Before call ups the head ref called my name and busted me. Told me I would line up dead last during the call ups for poaching the course. Otherwise, I probably would've gotten a first row call up because I've been doing halfway good this season.
So, I says, to myself, "First of all, good job dumb-arse. Now, that you're screwed from a decent poll position, where should you line up to get the best shot into the singletrack?"
The sprint is up a street, then a right hander over a ramp that's placed over the curb (yeah, homegrown but it does prevent pinch flats), then a lefty-loosey onto a screamer of an off-cambered downhill. I know this because I previewed the course...
We're line up taking the whole lane and I line up right on the centerline. I was seven rows back but my eyes (that were bigger than my sprinting muscles involved in sprinting) thought this would be good!
I says to myself, "When dickwad, aka the head referee, whistles us to go, I will hug the centerline and pass as many people on the leftside of the road as humanly possible because they're going to swarm right to lineup before the righthander."
Two minutes racers!
Bite me buddy, you just relegated me to last place!
One minute!
Nervous chatter dissipates and my drive side leg that's clicked in starts to toggle.
30 seconds!
You can hear a pin drop!
10 seconds!
I'm mentally counting down to anticipate the blowing of the whistle to jam my leg in my SPD!
The whistle goes, I luckily don't botch my SPD entry and I'm in the drops rocking the bike! I think I pass the first two rows as we're sprinting up the hill! Holee crap, we are close to each other going full tilt! We are elbows to arseholes inserting ourselves before the downhill. Even though it turns right, it cuts left immediately downhill-like a two, 90° chicane. I stay left and apex pass the people going right and keep my line and they line up behind me. Now I've passed the bottom two-thirds of the peloton. I am chugging in air like a frat boy chugs PBR with a beer bong. Incidentally, I went to the University of Texas at Austin where that type of behavior is NOT tolerated.
A dude biffs it behind me on the off-cambered stuff, because I hear that sphincter clenching sound of organic mass hitting the deck with internal organs thunking on the endoskeleton complete with all leading side edges of the bike mechanically sounding off too. Yikes!
Thank you sir, for slowing down my competitors.
Whoever designed the course was evil (aren't they all?) because there's this downhill off-cambered two-switchback portion that's super tight and to get through you have to go inside everybody as they negotiate this dusty, patchy, piece of cruelty. People are running here, I ride and pass the runners as they remount. Ah yeaugh, like the Jefferson said on their hit TV show, "I'ma moving on up!"
I catch a competitor/friend of mine and we're duking it out, exchanging leads, then he just flows away from me on the switchbacks. Amazing.
 | |
| Homey's about to pass me! |
So now I just glue myself onto packs on the course. At this point there isn't very many packs left because it's strung out. I pass maybe three and get passed by one as it's the final lap? With about a kilometer left, there's a another chicane with a barriers and I can see the trio behind me. I yell, "C'mon gentlemen!" so as to motivate our last two or so minutes of the season at anaerobic redline. They're still behind me as we hit the finishing sprint on the road. Before the righthand u-turn in the road I drop it down three cogs. The minute my rear tire's on pavement, my head's down and me and my bike are metronoming with all 3.25 cylinders firing! They don't pass me but I almost pass the guy in front of me.
I finished 18th out of 40 some odd peeps. Not bad for dead last I suppose. Uncle Drew and my kids are out there yelling too. I've gotten lucky with my new extended family y'all. Feeling happy and Drew with his sly humor says, "Cheaters get bad call ups." Thanks brah!
Now, I have this hacking cough from eating all this dust on a warm day in December in Colorado. My Christmas break at school's about to begin and I am ready peeps!
