Success to failure – in seconds flat
“If you ain’t first, you’re last”
Lake Hope Mountain Bike Race
Sunday, August 2, 2009
Feeling good all week on the bike, I knew all the planning would come together on Sunday for this favorite “A” race for the year. The legs felt strong; the watts were up, the HR steady and flat line, the planets in alignment, the squirrels were busy.
Do you ever have one of those days, where everything just goes right? Where around every turn, you are surprised by how each traffic light turns to green? Where everything just goes right where it is supposed to go in your day? I indeed had one of those days until about 1:50 p.m. during my race.
Jen and I arrive in plenty of time, to be registered and see some familiar faces, Mike Mikes, Dave Groen from my Masters club. I see a few other new faces; my guess is they are getting things in order for cyclocross training. I change into the team kit and get on my bike for a good warm up. From the first warm-up pedal stroke, to the last I know the legs and body are in alignment today. I think, wow, these guys are going to suffer today behind me.
Ryan O'Dell makes his pre-race announcements on his fancy megaphone. He explains how the West Virginia series racers will be combined with the OMBC series race groups. There is a big moan from the crowd, when he announces the Sport category will be combined with several other Sport groups. I think we had 60-65 Or so lined up to take off just after 1:00 p.m. Myself, Mike Mikes and Dave Groen and several of the WV boys all creep and creep our way to a virtual start line – Ryan yells out, “that’s enough creeping boys”.
I had a great spot on the front line. I knew if I stayed on the right side of the road, it would allow me to elbow and maintain my space on the way up the water tower hill at the sound of the gun. It worked. I was or I should say, easily had the legs and fitness to be first up that hill. I sat back at the top for the right turn onto the gravel road. The road certainly separated our group quickly. I glanced back under my arm in my big ring sprint to see a group of about 8 of us shredding the field of sport riders. There is one semi steep (creep up on you hill) climb on the gravel road, just before we hit the single-track into the woods. I stood up and let a few guys in front of me. I figured if they were up here with me, they would know how to handle their bike and could carve trail like a knife into the Christmas ham. Mike is right in my sights and I thought I would just keep him within striking distance, wait for a hill or wait for him to make a mistake and I would not hesitate to pounce (this time).
The pace is high and we are picking off riders shelled from the groups that started in front of our group. Katsu is in front of me, keeping a great pace, but pops and I roll around him on a hill climb. I pick the pace up some more and get on Mike’s wheel. Alas, he picks a wrong line through a tough off camber slickery turn and up to the right. He goes down, but is ok. I put a massive dig in and hit the throttle hard. I figure if I can just keep this up for about another 10-minutes I will have first place. It was not to be. This was not one of those days where everything goes right. It suddenly becomes one of those moments where everything that could go wrong, does. In an instant, I feel the back end of the bike, getting a little wallow on me. I look down between the frame for a quick moment, while out of the saddle trying to see if there is something blatant sticking out of the tire or if it indeed is going flat. UGGGG. It is going flat. I keep riding trying to rationally think what the best course of action would result in the least amount of lost time. I decide to pull out the big Co2 and give it a shot at just replacing some of the lost air. Dave G. catches back up but is suffering and hurting. I get back on…mention I had a slow leak and pass him. About another 10 minutes, the tire is going again. I now know I must get off at some point and change the back tube. The nightmare begins.
I continue to climb up and around and down hanging on to the bike, trying to keep it on the trail with the back end wallowing around like a whale tail. I keep thinking, wow, this just couldn’t suck anymore having to change a tube – mid race. Finally, I yell out to Dave G. I am going to pull over and change it. Dave says good luck. I get the wheel off, get my tube and C02 out, I learn quickly I have no easy way to get the tire off the rim, it’s a newer tire I just put on about a month prior and the bead is still as stiff as an iron wagon wheel. It won’t come off. I fight, fight and fight. Nothing. I try my Cook Bros. multi tool, 9 ways – nothing. I swear and cuss like a 15 year-old outloud when no one is passing me on the trail just below. Wow, has it been an hour, it seems so, standing there sweating, drenched, simply trying to remove a tire. I try to calm down and think think, what can I use to the the tire off….ahhhhh the wheel skewer! Genius. I take the skewer out and think, oh I should thread the other side of the skewer back on with the springs so they don’t get lost. My guess is, I didn’t quite thread them on quite far enough. That’s right, I get the tire off, new tube, tire back on, filled up with air and proceed to put the wheel back on the bike, I look down and don’t see one of the springs or the other side of my skewer, WTF? You have got to be kidding me? Brian A. of COMBO fame rolls up and asks what I need help with…he’s tired and not interested in racing anymore. We slowly scour the ground with a stick find the spring and the skewer nut, wheel back in bike and I am on my way.
I pass 2 riders maybe in my quest to survive this hideous ordeal. About 2 miles roll by, I think I don’t have much further to do, maybe I can salvage a DNF out of this when all of a sudden I feel the front wheel washing around into a corner. I look down and realize, yes another Flat tire. WTF. I calm down and just wait for Brian again. He arrives and automatically knows I need a tube and air. Most racers only carry one tube and enough air for maybe two fill ups. We have a laugh, since he is so “out of his race” and I as
well, change the tube and I am off to try to finish. My body and legs by this time are just about finished and I really struggled to power up the last few climbs out of the valley to get to the uphill finish line. Needless to say, when I crossed the finish line I was not a happy camper and ran off to the car to finish sweating and try to calm down. Jen came back to the car, I decided to be a good sport and go hang out, while my co-racers, collected their monies.
It was a good call in the end, karma baby, I got to eat some great ombc food, try to have a few laughs about my double flat situation and not take myself so seriously or the racing. I spoke to Michael M. after and he was amazed I wasn’t running Stan’s Tubeless system. The reason he did it a few years ago….he was leading a race and got flats. So…maybe there is some Stan’s in my future?
I guess, I just wanted the W so bad, worked so hard, it felt like most of my summer was working towards this race (one of my favorites) and I knew I had it in me. When the time came; I did have it, the power, lungs, the skills were all there. We must take away the positive sometimes and not focus on the negative.
