Gahddayum. Some days you outsmart yourself. Tough to do when one is an effing moron, but I got it done anyway.
Bubble CX, AKA I wipe my tears on everyone else's doillys.
Rolled up early-ish. 9:30 fro a 12:30 start. Ease into a turn or two on the back side of the course. Realize I'm WAY too low, so jump back out, insert more air into the the inflat-y things, jump back on. Better. A lap and change at tourist pace reminds me how daunting this mofo is. Zero rest, much piloting, many contractions of the moosles.
Back to the van to bullsh*t with Burnside Brett, who's so effortlessly cool, and good at this stuff. (His third place in the 40+ Masters is a testament to that.) I should have spent more time hanging out with him. Should've, could've, would've. Didn't.
It's hot. Even at the next pre-ride, I'm feeling it. But it's not horrible, just something to manage. I'm big. It's hard to shed heat. I'm like an Easy Bake Oven on a bike. Today I made a hot turd.
I'm running a lot of pressure in the tubulars. Lots of grippy 180s and off cambers, plus lots of rocks, I'm gonna try to play it safe. Today more than most others, folks are REALLY talking about tire pressure. The loose powder we're churning through seems to be sprouting rocks.
Talked with someone who's name I won't use, because he wasn't the problem, as much as I wanted to blame him. He rolled up, poked my tire and said "do yourself a favor and take some air out..."
And I went for it. Because I'm an effing moron. (See above.)
Staging. Went for a sprint with 10 minutes to go. Come back and everyone's gridded. I line up second row between Fafar and a Black Bear rider who's already half way into the front row, his shoulder at my front wheel. I ask him not to overlap, get a smile, but not much more. I don't pursue it. Sure enough, despite being lined up behind Dave Kahl, the day's best wheel, Black Bear pinches me hard. That's a lot of work I have to do before we hit the hill. I do it. Get in behind Fedor (Who's flying). I know I'll lose him at some point, but I wanna hang in there baby as long as I can. Which turns out to be the top of the Apple Hill. I let a Pro Power rider get between me and Fedor. Pro Power blows a corner, and I watch Fedor's skinny butt start making money moves. Dick.
There's time, I tell myself. There isn't.
Two ride/run sections in the woods cement my "Oh, c'mon! What the hell was that?" status. Blow both clips after the second section. The barriers following feel like hell. I'm gassed, 1/2 a lap in. I can recover from this. Pat Greehan gets by me and I dig in to keep him in sight. at the Wood Chip Whoopee, I'm on him. I blow a the uphill into the the table top before the rocky descent, but Pat's still there. I've never beaten him. I really really want to. But I'm still red lined. Not recovering well at all. It WILL happen.
Here come's the sand!
No big. I carry too much speed into the right-side line and have to shave a bit at the tape, which means more work to come, but I'm still in shouting distance of Pat and it looks like we're settling in a bit.
Second time up the Apple hill and I'm starting to regret taking the air out of the tires. They're folding on all the big sweepers, and I'm being more careful than
Isadora Duncan's daughter in a convertible.
Into the woods again for the 2x run/ride, and I don't blow the clip-in at the end. Better. Pat's right there. I cede some time over the barriers. This section is gonna be my bete noire. Gotta strategize a bit, mebbe burn what's left of my single match to get in front of Pat before we hit it again. Much better to be mediocre IN FRONT of someone whose good at things.
The woods go better. Mark Pohndorf is goofing his way through the uphill, which makes me smile, as he's a stone killer when he's training. Apparently he's not training. He remounts between me and Pat and oh, hey, there's an effing gap!
I stay on him through the rock garden and hit the sand hard, salmoning left, pulling almost level with Mark, but Pat's got 40 or 50 feet on us. I WILL get that back, I think.
And then we hit the Apple Hill and I let the tires get in my head. i'm spending valuable focus on trying not to fold. This allows pat to YOLO his way through the downhills and suddenly he's 100 feet ahead. Damnit.
At the barriers, Black Bear comes through. I've gotta get on him to get back to Pat.
At the Wood Chip Whoopdee, I'm closing a bit. I just have to stop freaking out about the tires and get down!
Top of the woods climb, I hook right to get a good line on the descent and...
BAM HISSSSSSSSSS.
I'm done at 21 minutes.
I Eeyore over to my car, flip my dead tubie for the training tubeless and loose the skewer in the tall grass. For like 20 minutes. Skylar Grey helps look for a bit, but it's gone into the ether. Until I see the little red stiffy poking from the grass skirts. Wheel on, I retrieve my water bottle from the prologue start and recount how much I hate this course to many people who didn't actually care what I thought.
Hung out with Pat, Tom Mains, Edwin and his wife Jocelyn for a bit. Joe Saling told me a great joke. I was gonna watch the Women's 1/2/3, but life intervened and
@taylor185 , who crushed it today, was spared having to hear how much I hate this course.
Mostly I just hate that I fell for the pressure pressure.
Onward to Lucky CX! RIght after my next glue high.
