Fruitlands' Cup of Cyclocross
Posted: Sun Oct 29, 2017 9:37 am
The Fruitlands’ Cup of CX wasn’t originally on my race calendar. It wasn’t apart of the list that I had been thinking about all season and it certainly wasn’t on the list that I had given Mary at the outset of the season. But there is was on the chalkboard calendar in our kitchen when Mary returned from Philadelphia with her dad last weekend. Actually it was never mentioned once and I thank my lucky stars everyday for Mary. She knew that I needed to race!
Somehow the hard weeks at work continued with my staff apparently contracting the plague. My number two in command was out for a second straight week. Staffing inconsistencies are awful in my world but every day presented a chance for growth. I kept telling my kids all week that it was a good day for a good day. Not sure if I actually believed it myself but I needed that mantra to get through the week. Riding was woeful because of work and all of my rides happened at five in the morning inside on the trainer. My one workout was spectacularly bad and I really wondered what I would be able to produce in the race. I had a couple of honest and frank text talks with Cratty which were really helpful and by Friday night I had myself convinced that I was going to be at least ok in the race.
Sometimes when shit is sideways the universe has a funny way of giving you a much needed pat on the backside. I knew nothing about Fruitland’, nothing about the place, nothing about the course, zero. I had a brief text exchange with Patrick while I was having coffee Saturday morning and he let me know that it was a great course for me. Hard with lots of pedaling. Busick bolstered my confidence by saying the it would require a surplus of power. Coupled with the boost of good news that Mary and Eko would be along for the ride I was in for a good day.
Upon arrival I changed up pretty quickly and hit the course to get a better idea what I was in for. Holy cow what a crazy course! This was totally unlike anything that I have seen thus far in NECX. It was a total Euro pedal fest with oodles of climbing. Apparently the course was even harder than previous editions when it was already really hard. On my recon lap I was struggling on the small ring and was curious if I was going to be able to ride some of the features and hills on the big ring during the race.
The field was solid and there was an air of nervousness at the start. An hour of hell before us on the fiendish playground of some sadistic course designer. The only thing balancing out the hell that lay before us was the picturesque and idyllic setting.
Three two one…
Up the initial hill I was out hard and was sitting third wheel through the early down and ups. Max wattage for sure as Andy Scott threw small surgers testing the legs of the group. Through the long windy straits on the backside of the course I was making good power and totally railing some of the corners without even touching the brakes while at speed. Down the long descent and to the base of the run up I was still there. Remounting and starting the climb I immediately got hit by the man with the hammer. Somehow I was struggling to climb and getting passed left and right. Five days off the bike, trainer rides, more trainer rides, questionable form, crap. This was going to suck.
After the first lap I was in a group of four fighting for fifth with a scatter chase further behind us. I was a man with a serious problem. I was struggling and we were only eight minutes into the race. Given the exceptionally difficult nature of the course I knew that it was unlikely that anyone else would join our group. The race was in front of us and for some reason I took it upon myself to try and bring it all back together.
I’m always extra amped when Mary is at a race and feel stronger with her support. She covered the top half of the course and my official team issue MRC emotional support staff of Katie and Chris covered the bottom. I fed off their energy as I settled in on the second lap of the race. Through the finish line towing the group in fifth place the announcer remarked how awful I looked. If he only knew the extent of my suffering in that moment he would have a better appreciation for the pained scowl etched across my face. In those words though I found something. Maybe it was clarity, maybe it was an epiphany, but there is was in bold letters flashing before my eyes. My fitness may not be where it needed to be and the guys latched onto my wheel may be on better form but I had the real ace up my sleeve, suffering.
How much you can suffer has nothing to do with form or the stresses that you’re feeling in life. It’s there. It’s an ability. It’s a talent. The one thing that I was sure of was that I could suffer more than anyone in that chase group. If they were going to beat me it was going to take something from a dark place to do it. Halfway through the race it was like that thought freed me from the woes of October. Rather than being rusty and unsure I was burnished and hard, steely and my resolve to punish the wheel suckers that wouldn’t pull through.
Finally watts were pouring out of my legs and in time I had pulled the group up to the fracturing race for third and fourth place. I caught and attacked the fourth place rider on the descent and upon cresting the run up Chris and Katie shouted that third was just ahead. Looking up the climb he was there and by the time we got to the line with three to go I had reeled in third.
Robbie Nash didn’t want to get caught but he did. On the treacherous down and up he attacked the group. I instantly covered the move and a gap appeared. My wheelsucking companions were dispatched and it quickly became a two man race for the last step on the podium. The the remainder of that lap bombs were dropped. Attacks were made, counters happened and more bombs were dropped. On the climb coming in to two to go a gap started to form. The gears continued to get more polished the more I suffered. I drove the hell out of my bike with two to go and did everything in my power to increase the gap.
Through the bell I could taste the podium. Actually I think I was tasting the lining of my stomach as my body started to give me messages that the end was quickly approaching one way or another. On the back side of the course by the pits I had been making absurd power all day. As I came into that stretch I muttered to myself, “END THIS SHIT NOW!’ I got down on the drops and went into a full sprint. Somehow with some clairvoyant insight I felt Robbie’s spirit break and I was free to fly. Up the run one last time and back onto the bike, somehow the suffering taking on a sweetness as I passed Chris and Katie one last time. Chris and I slapped hands as I passed and I took on the task of the final climb. Mary and Eko had come down the hill to see the finish which gave me the extra boost I needed the final meters.
Through the line I was a dry heaving sweaty mess. Cross brain was in full force and I struggled to make intelligible sentences with subjects and verbs. My communication was in groans and consisted of one word utterances like hard, hurt, and bad. After a few minutes I managed to get everything back under control as the gang joined me. Eko and Mary were first with Mary saying that the race looked like the most miserable thing ever. Chris and Katie were quick to join and as always were the most positive and supportive people on the planet. Due to a wedding that was already setting up the podium happened almost instantly.
In my younger days as a runner I would have been pissed with third place but mature thirty-seven year old Mark was pretty psyched. I needed that race in so many ways. I needed to cross that suffering line and go to that place that I can frequent on the fringe of my body's capabilities. I needed to put the stress and disappointment of October my rearview mirror. Most of all I think that I needed to be happy about riding my bike.
Following the race I did my first ever interview for Dirt Wire TV which was actually a wicked random side goal that I had for the season so that added to the stoke of the day. Thank you everyone for the continued support! MRC is a special group!
Mark
Somehow the hard weeks at work continued with my staff apparently contracting the plague. My number two in command was out for a second straight week. Staffing inconsistencies are awful in my world but every day presented a chance for growth. I kept telling my kids all week that it was a good day for a good day. Not sure if I actually believed it myself but I needed that mantra to get through the week. Riding was woeful because of work and all of my rides happened at five in the morning inside on the trainer. My one workout was spectacularly bad and I really wondered what I would be able to produce in the race. I had a couple of honest and frank text talks with Cratty which were really helpful and by Friday night I had myself convinced that I was going to be at least ok in the race.
Sometimes when shit is sideways the universe has a funny way of giving you a much needed pat on the backside. I knew nothing about Fruitland’, nothing about the place, nothing about the course, zero. I had a brief text exchange with Patrick while I was having coffee Saturday morning and he let me know that it was a great course for me. Hard with lots of pedaling. Busick bolstered my confidence by saying the it would require a surplus of power. Coupled with the boost of good news that Mary and Eko would be along for the ride I was in for a good day.
Upon arrival I changed up pretty quickly and hit the course to get a better idea what I was in for. Holy cow what a crazy course! This was totally unlike anything that I have seen thus far in NECX. It was a total Euro pedal fest with oodles of climbing. Apparently the course was even harder than previous editions when it was already really hard. On my recon lap I was struggling on the small ring and was curious if I was going to be able to ride some of the features and hills on the big ring during the race.
The field was solid and there was an air of nervousness at the start. An hour of hell before us on the fiendish playground of some sadistic course designer. The only thing balancing out the hell that lay before us was the picturesque and idyllic setting.
Three two one…
Up the initial hill I was out hard and was sitting third wheel through the early down and ups. Max wattage for sure as Andy Scott threw small surgers testing the legs of the group. Through the long windy straits on the backside of the course I was making good power and totally railing some of the corners without even touching the brakes while at speed. Down the long descent and to the base of the run up I was still there. Remounting and starting the climb I immediately got hit by the man with the hammer. Somehow I was struggling to climb and getting passed left and right. Five days off the bike, trainer rides, more trainer rides, questionable form, crap. This was going to suck.
After the first lap I was in a group of four fighting for fifth with a scatter chase further behind us. I was a man with a serious problem. I was struggling and we were only eight minutes into the race. Given the exceptionally difficult nature of the course I knew that it was unlikely that anyone else would join our group. The race was in front of us and for some reason I took it upon myself to try and bring it all back together.
I’m always extra amped when Mary is at a race and feel stronger with her support. She covered the top half of the course and my official team issue MRC emotional support staff of Katie and Chris covered the bottom. I fed off their energy as I settled in on the second lap of the race. Through the finish line towing the group in fifth place the announcer remarked how awful I looked. If he only knew the extent of my suffering in that moment he would have a better appreciation for the pained scowl etched across my face. In those words though I found something. Maybe it was clarity, maybe it was an epiphany, but there is was in bold letters flashing before my eyes. My fitness may not be where it needed to be and the guys latched onto my wheel may be on better form but I had the real ace up my sleeve, suffering.
How much you can suffer has nothing to do with form or the stresses that you’re feeling in life. It’s there. It’s an ability. It’s a talent. The one thing that I was sure of was that I could suffer more than anyone in that chase group. If they were going to beat me it was going to take something from a dark place to do it. Halfway through the race it was like that thought freed me from the woes of October. Rather than being rusty and unsure I was burnished and hard, steely and my resolve to punish the wheel suckers that wouldn’t pull through.
Finally watts were pouring out of my legs and in time I had pulled the group up to the fracturing race for third and fourth place. I caught and attacked the fourth place rider on the descent and upon cresting the run up Chris and Katie shouted that third was just ahead. Looking up the climb he was there and by the time we got to the line with three to go I had reeled in third.
Robbie Nash didn’t want to get caught but he did. On the treacherous down and up he attacked the group. I instantly covered the move and a gap appeared. My wheelsucking companions were dispatched and it quickly became a two man race for the last step on the podium. The the remainder of that lap bombs were dropped. Attacks were made, counters happened and more bombs were dropped. On the climb coming in to two to go a gap started to form. The gears continued to get more polished the more I suffered. I drove the hell out of my bike with two to go and did everything in my power to increase the gap.
Through the bell I could taste the podium. Actually I think I was tasting the lining of my stomach as my body started to give me messages that the end was quickly approaching one way or another. On the back side of the course by the pits I had been making absurd power all day. As I came into that stretch I muttered to myself, “END THIS SHIT NOW!’ I got down on the drops and went into a full sprint. Somehow with some clairvoyant insight I felt Robbie’s spirit break and I was free to fly. Up the run one last time and back onto the bike, somehow the suffering taking on a sweetness as I passed Chris and Katie one last time. Chris and I slapped hands as I passed and I took on the task of the final climb. Mary and Eko had come down the hill to see the finish which gave me the extra boost I needed the final meters.
Through the line I was a dry heaving sweaty mess. Cross brain was in full force and I struggled to make intelligible sentences with subjects and verbs. My communication was in groans and consisted of one word utterances like hard, hurt, and bad. After a few minutes I managed to get everything back under control as the gang joined me. Eko and Mary were first with Mary saying that the race looked like the most miserable thing ever. Chris and Katie were quick to join and as always were the most positive and supportive people on the planet. Due to a wedding that was already setting up the podium happened almost instantly.
In my younger days as a runner I would have been pissed with third place but mature thirty-seven year old Mark was pretty psyched. I needed that race in so many ways. I needed to cross that suffering line and go to that place that I can frequent on the fringe of my body's capabilities. I needed to put the stress and disappointment of October my rearview mirror. Most of all I think that I needed to be happy about riding my bike.
Following the race I did my first ever interview for Dirt Wire TV which was actually a wicked random side goal that I had for the season so that added to the stoke of the day. Thank you everyone for the continued support! MRC is a special group!
Mark