In the not too distant past I made a deal with myself that I would not write a race report unless I earned a spot on a podium. It's not because race reports are not valuable from everyone (they totally are), but many of you have a talent for writing whereas I not have way. This approach in concert with my general lack of riding ability and cardio vascular conditioning has saved me countless hours of agonizing over prose after each race weekend. Many of you can write from experience about winning the hole shot, blocking for a teammate, bridging gaps, covering attacks, and launching counter attacks. I can only recount episodes of blinding pain, breathing through my eyes, leaking oil, treading water, wondering what lap I am on, and running full gas for 35-45 minutes. It's not pretty and I feel like it's been a mutually beneficial situation thus far into the season.
Unfortunately for all of us, I did stand on the second step of an age group podium this weekend. I thought it only right that I post a heart warming and witty story of courage, perseverance, intestinal fortitude, and blind luck. Instead, I will save us all the pain and simply stick to the facts of the race. The CX course (or parcours for the non-neanderthal among you) consisted of the following elements:
- A mixed C4 field with Juniors, u40,40+,and 50+ all starting at the same time
- Throwback high barriers of death
- A lazy attempt at a sand pile
After getting the full Han Solo carbonite experience in the starting grid following a 10 minute diatribe on why you should not fold your number the race mercifully began. I tried to follow Ian and Mark B for as long as I could. Reality set in circa 200 yards into the first lap and I spent the rest of the race trying to avoid an embarrassing crash and listening to chants of 'Go Jonathan'. This undoubtedly nationally-ranked junior was apparently somewhere near me for portions of the race and his fan base was out in force. When you race as I do, with no matches to burn, no means to attack, no group to share work with, and no real sense of who is in your field, the best part of the race is (next to hearing the bell lap sound) the end of the race. It is only then that your efforts can be fully appreciated and your decisions before and during the race accurately assessed. When it was all done I felt like Louden Swain (if he had gotten 2nd place instead beating the baddest mofo out there):
https://youtu.be/6XdFExsqoC4
On this day life gave me #2 and I was pleasantly surprised by it. On to ORCHARD CROSS!