I am sure you have noticed that Rich has been keeping up most of the blogging duties on this site. I would offer an excuse or two, but it would just end up sounding like whining.
The Frisco races looked like a great weekend of competition with good cross-like weather. I had to miss Saturday’s race as I was off with Serotta Bikes / MAVIC Wheels in Moab, Utah handing out goodies to roadies who were trying to get in one last ride for the year. During the downtime at the event I took the opportunity to do a bit of maintenance on the cross bike. The front brake was much more of a “speed modulator” than an actual braking device so I took the time to reset all the cable tension and make things nice and tight. Little did I know this “touch-up” was going to haunt me on Sunday.
The Good
The weather did not turn out to be as epic as I had hoped. If fact, it was nicer in Frisco than it was in Moab. Some moisture would have knocked down the dust during the race but after the first lap is was not worth even whining about. About half way thru the race I am rolling by start finish and Dave Towle calls out across the PA that I am doing a fantastic bridge up to the group in front of me. When I heard this, two thoughts went through my oxygen-staved brain at nearly the same time… Thought 1) How cools is this!?!?! A couple weeks ago I was listening to Dave make the call at CrossVegas shouting out names like Trebon, Heule, Powers, and Wicks and now he is calling out my name! Thought 2) Dear Dave, bridging my ass…. The way I am gasping for air, all I am doing right now is a bad imitation of a frickin’ goldfish on a bike.
By the way, if Dave Towle ever calls my name out in direct conjunction with his patented “XXX and YYY are exchanging body blow after body blow out there right now!!!!!” I will immediately pull off the course and start drinking the Belgian ale because my cross-racing career will have reached it’s pinnacle at that time.
The Bad
With 3 to go I am passing a guy on the inside of a left-hander. Half way into the turn, the front wheel starts to slide out. Through a combination of 99% luck and 1% hanging on, I don’t go down. 10 seconds later, I feel the front trying going soft. 20 seconds later, it is flat.
The Ugly
My first though was on the order of “Thank God! The pain will soon stop now.” But then I remember Rich saying that he left a spare set of wheels in the pit. Next thought “ I wonder how far I gotta run my ass to get to the pit?” which is then followed by “Hey, would you look at that? The pit is just around the next corner….. and I can see fine set of team wheels right in the front!” So… you remember the whole “Hey, let’s tighten up that front brake” idea I had earlier. Well, guess who is having a hell of a time getting his front cantilever brake cable loose? My first wheel change during a cross race contained the following sentences:
Damnit! Why the hell did you have to make this so tight!
Hey Moron, if you take off your glove, that might help.
Why the hell did you not grind off those lawyer tabs!
Man, right now, I really hate lawyers!!!!
OK…. Wheel back on… now just need to get the cable back on.
Must….get……cable….. back….on....SHIT!!!!!! (cable slips out of my hand for the umpteenth time)
Do I dare ride the race without a front brake?
One more try….. got it!!!
45 seconds later and I am off. As I catch a pass Tom from ICCC. Tom knows that Rich and I are part of the Rol Wheels / ACA neutral support program for the crits during the summer. He yells out to me “Nice wheel swap! I know some guys who do a great job of that all summer long, perhaps you should talk to them?”
The Completely Stupid
I start the task of trying and gain back some of the spots I just lost. After about ½ a lap, I am coming down the long downhill run before a hard left with a dismount and run-up up a steep embankment. During the race, thanks to a tip from a team-mate, I figured out that if I went to the far right side of the run-up, I had to power through some soft dirt but I could ride it instead of running. Knowing that I am prone to the dreaded Flying Bike Punt, I am all about riding instead of running. As I am bombing down the hill I overtake a racer. I don’t see a number so I figure it must be a 35+ open guy out doing a course inspection. Being the always-helpful guy that I am, I shout out, “Hey, if you let me by on the right side, I will show you the line in order to ride this next obstacle.” He pulls over to the left and I keep my speed up as I go down the right hand side of the course. I take the hard left and promptly bury the front wheel in the soft stuff. In an instant, I go from Mr. “Hey, let me show you my mad skilz and how to kick this hill’s ass.” To a 215lbs mass of flesh doing a high-speed over-the-bars human missile maneuver that culminates in a face plant right into the side of the embankment. As I lay there quivering for a couple seconds, the other racer seamlessly dismounts, runs up the left side, remounts and is off. I drag my carcass to the top of the hill, stumble back on the bike and weave on down the course. I finally catch the same rider later in the next lap and notice that he indeed has a race number on, it just wasn’t pinned on the shoulder. At this point I am certain that he has to believe that I am the biggest idiot/asshole/entertainment factor on a bike. First, I just gotta tell him to get out of the way so that I am show him the right way to ride the course. Then I take the opportunity to give him front row seats to mass carnage. Needless to say, I had to find him after the race and apologize. He let me off the hook pretty easy…. But I have a feeling he is going to tell the story of “the guy who once tried to show him how to race cross” for years.
Brian
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