It rained the night before, which meant mud...but there shouldn't be this much!
From the week prior, I had been dealing with sub-par shifting thanks to old shifter housing. With this fixed, I was excited with the prospect of changing gears. Unfortunately, this weekend came down to the fact that my bike never wanted to stay in ANY gear...
Day 1:
Tip #1 for having a good race- make sure you are at the start when the gun goes off!
I was busy warming up on the course when I heard "1 minute to the start of the Men's 2/3/4 race!" Unlike the Verge series, there was little to no time scheduled between races for course preview. This threw off my usual warm-up of getting onto the course when the previous race winner crosses the finish line. I frantically rode over to the starting pavement area to see the entire field gridded up and waiting for the signal to go. I stripped down to my skinsuit just to hear the whistle and watch the race go by. A spectator held up the course tape as I ducked under the joined in, already 50m behind the last rider in the field. Richard Fries instantly commented on my remarkable start, noting that I was a "podium finisher in the New England Verge series" but was dead last here.
The holeshot accordian allowed me to make contact with the field and proceed to weave through. I pulled up next to Jeremy Dunn and was only a few wheels behind Colin. I should note that most of my progess was made by running through (and over) others- not by riding. After only a few hundred meters it became apparent that you could run most of the course faster than you could ride. I began to wish I'd gone to the nordic practices and actually run in the past year.
Running was fine. Riding was not. As I tried to churn through the thick mud, my chain would slip on EVERY pedal stroke, causing more than a few disastrous unclippings. So I stopped and played with my barrel adjustors. Then I tried to ride 25m more and realized that didn't help. So I did it again. And again. Linnea can testify that I actually flipped the bike over to do this at one point. The only gear I could use was my 15 tooth. Unfortunately that was far too big a gear to turn at any section of the course, save the pavement finish. Turning a 39x24/27 was hard enough. My bike was a big muddy weight, incapable of helping me in any way. Anyone have a spare pit bike?
In any case, I slipped and ran my way around the course 4 times, for a total race time of probably 1 hour (note that the race was supposed to be 40 minutes). The top riders were turning in 14+ minutes laps, so I can only figure it was far worse for me (since I was probably almost lapped!). Either way, I didn't get placed since I missed the start. Probably good...I don't really want existing evidence of that race.
Day 2:
I took my bike to the SRAM mechanics after the race on Saturday to find out that my derailleur hanger was significantly bent. After riding around on the road a little, it seemed that my situation was resolved. Or not.
I actually made it to the start on Sunday and rode to the first mud section in a pretty decent position. Then I realized the same thing was happening with my rear cluster. Every pedal stroke felt like my chain was breaking. So I ran a little (ok, a lot). Then I tried to ride down the false flat and someone ran by me. Then I gave up. I didn't feel like fighting my bike for another 40 minutes. So that was it for the weekend.
As it turns out, I didn't consider the fact that my cassette is probably 3 years old, and my chain barely a month. I guess that could explain why it was slipping...
Richard Fries put it in perspective when he saw me walking around during my race- "Everyone has a shitty weekend- forget about it, and come back next week."
Here's a picture of local pro/hero Dan Timmerman on the first day. If these guys won't ride this stuff, what hope do the mere mortals have?
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