So, the race is now two days old and anyone who doesn't live in a cave, knows how we did... so what's to write about?
Well... I could be totally wrong. But my guess is, that a few of you out there, wonder if the folks racing at the front of the pack think and feel differently than the folks in the middle and at the back of the pack. In other words... Is our level of confidence different? Do we get as nervous? Perhaps we aren't as afraid of certain course conditions?
So, I figured I would take you on a tour of my tiny little brain... the night before the World Championship race, and also share some of the not so rational and very rational thoughts that were rolling around as the race was progressing. This is the first time I've done this... so, let's try not to be too judgmental.
Okay? Cool... here we go.
I had effectively fended off the nerves until Saturday morning. That's when I began comparing the morning temps to the predicted morning temps for Sunday... bike crashes were taking place on average every 30 seconds and as the ice started to melt, it was only going to get worse.
Now I'm not one to shy away from a good bike crash... just pull my medical file! Hell, one year I broke my hand early in the season in a cross race and raced the balance of the season with a blue cast up to my elbow that was molded so I could grip the top suicide brake levers. The reason the cast was blue, was to match my kit color... no one knew I was injured... that's exactly the way I wanted it. You don't want your competitors knowing you're hurt.
So... I'm not afraid of crashing... I just don't want to get taken out of the race or breaking my bike so I can't finish. My body will heal, it's tough to get a bike when you're on the far side of the course. So, fear #1.... catastrophic equipment failure due to course conditions or a yard sale accident.
You can orbit around the course, doing course analysis all day long, buy a crystal ball, have your palm read and talk race strategy until you are blue in the face... nothing can predict if, when or where catastrophic equipment failure will take place... so what will I do? Wear my lucky ID bracelet and try not to hit a tree. That's the best I can do.
That night I slept for about 30 seconds... now that I put the fear of catastrophic equipment failure to bed, I came up with 2 other tiny little things to worry about... and in their order, here's how they loaded up.
#1. The high speed hole shot. You see.... the start took place with about 150 meters of flat pavement. That gave you a decent amount of real estate to get up to full speed. Then you hit a 30% turn while transitioning on grass, hit a down hill and at the bottom of the hill is where the icy ruts began.... and this is precisely where several high speed crashes were taking place.
So... of course my job was to absolutely light it up and string it out single file so no one dared to try to pass in the ice field. Plus... if by chance I bit it.... being in the lead would give me the chance of getting all my parts back in place and hopefully, not have to chase too long to catch back on with the leaders... But let's not be negative.
Taking the lead isn't always the strategy... sometimes it's fine to be 2nd or 3rd wheel... but not on this course. The conditions were way too tricky. Any mistake would be very costly and the leader would slip away, leaving everyone else is a total scramble.
Again... I'm not afraid of the crash... it's kinda like jumping out of a helicopter with a rope attached to you (of which I did on several occasions while in the Army) . There's a lot of screaming and shouting that takes place before you actually get out on the skid and jump... doesn't mean you are a chicken.... just clearing your airway.
#2. I wanted to win the World Championship Jersey. I didn't come for 2nd... I didn't come for 3rd... I came to win. I knew I was favored to win but candidly... that doesn't mean crap. Anyone that rolls to the line is capable of pulling of a fantastic day and could clean my clock. I'm good on ice, mud, and in tough conditions. But... I'm not unbeatable. I've had my butt handed to me before... many times. So, I was trying to manage the 1% of doubt... to stay at 1%. If it climbed to greater than 1%... I knew I would be in trouble. In this sport, the head is as important as the body.
At 5:ish am I finally gave up on sleeping and made coffee and waited for my teammates to wake up. I found that my hands were shaking and it was a struggle to get the cup to my face without spilling coffee all over my ice weasel t-shirt.
I was dwelling on fear #1 (The high speed hole shot)... when The Flea, rolled out of her bedroom and took one look at me cowering on the couch and shouted over to Big Pit... "Uh Oh Jeff.... Our Little Peanuts' shell looks all twisted and wrinkled this morning." I have to say, that's exactly the thing I needed to hear to snap me out of it... I burst into a fit of hysterical laughter with my good friend The Flea and we got ourselves ready for a big day of racing.
Since Karen raced before me, we checked out the course together. The course was frozen solid but the ruts had taken on a crunchy feel under the wheels, due to ice crystals sitting on the ice and that allowed for a bit more traction... the conditions were good for her. In looking at lines, we also looked at areas to attack across the ruts if the situation required and at one point, one of her main competitors rolled by... so we poached quietly behind her, to observe her line as well. Lot's of information to gather, not just a matter of doing mindless laps on a frozen course.
The tough thing about racing back to back is that I couldn't watch Karen's race. She has become one of my best friends and I really wanted to be there to support her biggest race of the year... but I had my own race to prep for.. So, the best I could do was give her a hug and tell her to "kill it" as she headed off to the start, I in turn headed back to the van to get ready for my warm up.
I did get a chance to see Karen's start... she looked solid when she hit the ice ruts and that was the first time I felt I could breath a sigh of relief.
In the start grid I was so nervous my gums are actually itching... it's the weirdest feeling... all my nerves are firing at the same time and I'm just hoping to hell my bowls don't liquefy on the spot. I can't imagine how that could be possible... I've been paying rent at the porta pot for God Sake... I've spent so much time there!
I've made a decision about the hole shot... I put it in the big ring in the front and decide that I'm going to freak out the field... This should be fun. It's a Cross Race.... No babies allowed!!
Just Jerry gives me a key piece of intel at the line just before the start. He just advised me that they just dumped a bunch of loam on a a tricky down hill that everyone had been running in practice, he said it was totally ride-able. I was going to take the risk... that would be a big advantage to ride it, knowing that everyone else would run it.
Whistle blows, I light it up like a bat out of hell. Get the hole shot and string out the field. 2 women attack and pass in the barriers, this is a very dangerous move and I can't let it happen. I counter attack in the run up and gas it all the way to the fly over... where I expect everyone will hesitate remounting, I have a 6 second gap by Pit 1.
Tom and I have done a lot of work on bike exchanges, so I'm as fast on a bike exchange as I am in the barriers. I also use the pit both strategically as well as tactically... I never pass up a pit exchange if my instincts tell me to go in... even if the bike looks clean.
I took 5 bike exchanges... 1 swap was a planned attack, it took the gap from 5 seconds to 30 seconds. 3 bike swaps were for ice and mud build up... 1 was because I thought the tires felt a little squishy, turned out I was riding a flat.
Flea and Big Pit were giving me gap times and that was really critical... I only had a margin of 20 seconds for the first 2 laps... and I was working hard. I wasn't over my limit, but I was definitely drooling. The course was way too rutty for me to take a hand off the bar to wipe the drool off my face, so this random thought started to bumble up... wondering if it was cold enough to form into a icicle... and if that happened... could it possibly reach the crank before the end of the race?????
Then I hit a huge rut and the drool string snapped! Thank GOD!!!!
I was concerned about the 20 second margin... but I wasn't panicked. I decided one of two things were taking place behind me. She was burying herself to hold the margin and would crack soon... or she was as good as I was and was marking me. Either way, taking a clean bike and attacking in a section of the course that I knew that I was making time on her would show me what she had. The attack at end of lap 2 showed me that she had dug a hole and was taking on water.
Now... my job was to not make a mistake and avoid catastrophic equipment failure. I did flat in lap 3... wasn't sure it was a flat... but knew the tires were really loose on the ice and my alarm bells were howling... so I went into the pit and got another bike, turns out I only had 8lbs of air left in the front tire and was riding the rims. I can't say enough for tubulars... they are the best!!
So... I dodged the demons, managed to keep my wits about me... fought off nerves, moments of panic, got my peanut shell untwisted, put on the game face and raced my race.
But as you can see. I am as frail as the next rider you line up with. I have failings in confidence, fears, questions, and utterly stupid, inappropriate thoughts at totally weird moments. Guess that means I'm human after all.
The conditions were what I prayed for... but that doesn't mean they are easy. But, they freak everyone else out more than they freak me out... so I love them.
Karen, Big Pit and Just Jerry raced like absolute studs on Sunday! Tom, was the master in the pit.
The conditions for Jeff and Jerry were the worst of the day and I gotta say... well done guys, well done!
Talk to you later.
Kath
