Frisco CX

Frisco 2010...

I race this course every year. I dread it every year. So you're asking.."So dumbass, then why do you do it?" Well, for two reasons. First, because this course requires everything that I am not. The Frisco course starts at a bit over 8600 ft (2600 meters for you guys keeping tabs on this outside of the US and UK). It has way too much vertical in the form on a long climb and the rest is single track and off camber turns. In short, it is built for little mountain bikers...... see Jake Wells. Anyone who knows me will testify that I certainly anything but that. I race it in hopes to someday get better at it. 2nd, this fricken course owes me. Two years ago, I schlepped home with a grade 2 separation in the left shoulder after over-cooking one of those lovely off-camber corners. I maintain a goal of just once, I want to ride it clean.

Mr. Big Guy said it was time for me to quit the wuss training/racing schedule and double up on a day. So, I laid down the extra $10 to get a beat-down in the 45+ Open directly after the 35+ Cat 4s. Call ups were done based on your finish in Saturday's Frisco CX race. I gotta say, even though it caused me to start in the back, it is at least better than calling through 30 names based on last years results to get two guys to the line like we have gone through in the past races this season.

I started somewhere in the 4th or 5th row with the thought of nowhere to go but up and more focused on the effort and body than the placing.

If you read Cap'n Slow's description of the course and would like a visual.... I put together a quick video of Lap 1. Needless to say, the climb that started each lap was a killer. By the way, I recommend good headphones or speakers and loud volume while viewing this one.





After lap 4 I could feel the legs start to go. By the time I climbed that fricken hill a 6th time, they were really starting the long wave of buh bye. They say that the altitude effects your power output the most. In recent testing I completed this weekend, it effects the power output of a Clydesdale even more. As we start into the climb on the last lap, there are two racers 15 to 20 secs ahead. I tell myself... "Come on fatboy, bury yourself and get that wheel. Hold it to the top and you can recover on the downhill". Deeper in the pain cave I go. Halfway up the hill, they are still at least 15 secs out. Phil and Paul tell me to dig into the suitcase of courage. So I dig. Pretty soon, I am digging so hard that I am throwing clothes overboard like I am trying to save a sinking ship. As we near the top of the climb, they are still at least 10 seconds out. A quick look at the heart rate monitor details the issue. The heart rate is barely over 90% of Max. In summary, the excessive strain the hill has put on my limited power/weight ratio has exposed my great weakness and the legs are done. The rest of the race is spend driving as hard as I can with what is left in the tank just trying to hold my position. I cross the line thinking... "Oh joy, I get to do this all again in 10 minutes"

After the finish, I get the official FMVC photographer to pin on the 45+ number and commence to yakkin with the other 35+ Cat 4 finishers in a effort to take my mind of the impending doom. I finally admit to myself that I have maxed out the time I can spend yakkin and need to go line up. As I am walking my bike over to the start line, the ref blows the whistle when I am still 20 feet away. In Colorado, the Women's Open starts 30 seconds after the Men's 45+. So all the ladies are moving up to their place in the starting grid as I come flying through the start line in mid re-mount. Somehow, a major catastrophe is avoided. Half way up the climb on the start of lap one, the legs just explode in an inferno of lactic acid. Evidently coming to a complete stop and sitting for 10 minutes only exercising your jaw is not a good way to clear any acid out of your legs....... who knew? By the time I get to the top of the climb, I am still DFL and probably now only 20 secs ahead of the ladies. I try and drive the legs hard to get the max out of my $10. In doing so, I accomplish the following.

1) I manage to crash Nichole Duke as she is leading the women's open race trying to let her pass in a set of S turns. I apologize over and over until it appears she is more irritated with my apologizing that my crashing her.
2) I latch onto Mrs. Duke's wheel. After a few seconds, i notice that she has a tattoo on her left calf. I drive hard to try and catch up to here so that I can try and figure out what it is. I try squinting at the image churning up and down and she powers along, I can't quite make it out. She then coasts for a bit and I stare with intent..... until I realise that she is setting up for the next set of turns. Only two handfuls of brake keep me from blowing right through the course tape and stacking it up in colossal fashion. It has become obvious that my mind is now as weak as my legs.
3) I achieve the helpless sensation of my mind acknowledging...."Yup dorkboy, you have completely lost control of your bike, this is going to hurt" several times in near high speed crashes only to somehow pull it out at the last instant.

At the end of the 3rd lap, I pull over and take a pull off of the Duvel that the Cap'n is holding. At this point in time, there are few things better than a Belgian Beer Handup. The Cap'n queries about my inability to stay with Mrs. Duke through even the simplest part of the course. I... I.... I got nothing. One more pull of us his beer and I am back out on course.... I paid $10, I sure as hell am not going be a DNF. The rest of the race is spend trying to finish and not be an impedance to any of the others who are actually racing.

I finish... spent. Truly spent. But, the effort was there and I finally rode a Frisco CX course without external damage to myself or the bike. Goals met.



The Cap'n now requests that every race review ends with pictures of boobs..... so in that spirit, here is a picture of a boob.