Tuesday, August 11, 2009

Le Petite Finale

Pulling into the parking lot of Pacific Union College on a warm August morning usually marks the end of my season. The Howell Mt. Challenge in Angwin, CA this past weekend is significant to me because it marks the final race in a steady stream of events that usually begins sometime around January. To me this race always marked the time when the bikes can be hung up for a while, the body rested, and for once rides can just be rides. More than that Howell Mt. serves as a synopsis of my entire season laid out ever so simply for me to see. How well did I ride this year? What kinds of finishes did I turn in, and what were my strengths and weaknesses? These all usually show up at Howell. This year was no different.

Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed in the first race of the season en route to 2nd place.

I knew I was tired that morning. I could feel it walking up the stairs to the registration booths. My legs ached even at that mild exertion. A little twinge of pain from a lingering back injury. And above all a resounding bad mood that seemed to follow me through the season, stemming from a mixture of poor performance and incomplete preparation. Begrudgingly, I put my riding gear on and prepared myself.

Off the starting line we climbed up the road toward that first singletrack. My slow start placed me back in the messy bottleneck, the dust sucking flurry of blurred riders. A mile into the race I finally could see the course in front of me, but I could also see where I was. Mid pack, stuck behind a group of slow riders, legs burning, lungs burning, my mind darting between aggravation to negative thoughts. This was how my whole season was, and Howell Mt. once again began it's summary. But I was riding fast. Or I should say, I was riding much faster than I thought I would considering I had not barely ridden since Downieville in July, and considering I had barely stretched or paid a moments attention to my diet. But amazingly I was pulling ahead and passing people.

The lesson begins with this starting line, "Jesse, are you paying attention? You have now seen how far you can get on luck and skill alone, but now I will show you where that ends." This was right at the point that I hit the first steep climb, stood out of the saddle and put all my strength into that one single gear I carried with me and found that the product of my effort was far less that I had hoped. I began to fade. Hitting the tops of climbs I realized just how relatively out of shape I was and I struggled to recover enough to keep my arms from being wobbly and my vision blurred and shaky. I could feel people approaching behind me, and paid little regard to those fading away ahead of me, which any racer knows is the WRONG perspective to have. Always focus on who is ahead of you. Instead, my ears became trained on the sound of breath or chain rattle behind me to determine if who was following me was a single speed rider or another class and thus how hard I would have to work to fight them off.

Soon a singlespeed rider did come up behind me to pass showing the black and green colors of the MR jersey. Zach was riding singlespeed that day too and was having a great season improving times and results in almost every event he entered. I hung with Zach for a while, negotiating the fast flowing section midway through the lap. I normal follow riders with a healthy bit of caution since I am always prepared for them to blow it. However, following Zach, which I have done for years, was easy because I know that Zach doesn't often crash so I put my wheel right on his and paced him. Where I lost Zach was at the start of the climb out to the airport. I had to stop because there was too much air in my rear tire and I wasn't getting any traction on the climb. Once I stopped, it was nearly impossible to start again. Though I did ride the last part of the lap, once I hit the airport I was done mentally and physically. I tried to talk myself into another lap, but at last the whole system said "no". I could hear the lesson again. "Are you paying attention?" This began my slow ride back; a DNF and the end of my day. The end of my season.

Suffering mid-pack, mid-season.

Zach went on to finish 2nd in the singlespeed category, and I realized that I had been running his pace and was in line to finish somewhere around there had I been ready. I was proud of him finishing as strong as he did. It made me smile. Dusty brought home a 2nd place as well and I would wager to say that that race acted as a synopsis of their own seasons as well.

At last, fighting off sickness and exhaustion...

Clearly the summary of the 2009 season is bleak at best, and I realize the shortcomings of my preparedness and the reasons for that. At Downieville and Howell Mt. I vowed to train hard enough to be in the top 5 at the start, or to not race at all. It's just too much suffering to be back there inhaling dust and getting cut off by passing riders when you know you aren't going to do well in the first place. I am proud of some races. My 3rd place finish at the Sea Otter after a hard fought battle on the Dual Slalom course was by far the highlight. My first XC race of the season in Ft. Ord was a 2nd place and that was a highlight as well. But for a whole season of hard work, sickness, poor finishes and no finishes at all I find 2 good results hardly comparable to the rest, which can only serve to spur me onward toward a different approach and a new season. I will always look forward to that!