I am standing near the start line with
my bike, shivering in the shadow of trees. Although I'm covered in
mud from practising the course as a warm up, this is not enough to
prevent some midges to sting me. The night downpour has stopped and
even rays of sun fall on the wet land.
The race is supposed to start in
fifteen minutes but the area is surprisingly quiet. I do not like
that, I feel at the wrong place. A local rider shows up and we chat
for a while. Like in a flashmob, all the racers suddenly show up. I
am feeling better. I like to watch the sleek racing machines, watch
the tire types, see how fit the racers look. Thomas joins me and we
chat a bit, talking about trails condition.
My name gets called and I align for the
start. John Mackenzie, who won the first race in Laggan, is there. We
salute each other. I look for other familiar faces and see only two.
I feel like I could grab a second place at this race, but I am just
unsure about two other people that seem quite competitive but I
cannot put a rank on them. Fifteen seconds to the start. In my mind the race already started. I check the proper gear is engaged
and grab the brakes to block the bike in a ready to sprint position.
The whistle unleashes the racers like furious horses. Again, I lead
the start and the first two minutes of the race until the climb gets
steeper and enters a singletrack.
The climb
John chose to attack just before it got
steeper. I let him lead, I usually like to stay a bit behind to see
what happens and I still have plenty of time to fight back. I am
racing the climb out of my skin. I feel like I am going to throw up,
but hold on, walking on the thin line between maximum effort and burn
out. My body begs me to take it easier, to relax and just maintain
the gap between me and the rest of the pack. The race is only three
times a seven kilometers lap, so I am ready to give it all. Later
during post-race analysis I saw that I was over 95% of my maximum
heart beat rate for more than half of the race. At the end of the
singletrack the slope gets really steep and rocky. The effort is not
worth the pace that I can get out of it, so I jump off the bike and
push it for a few meters, until the singletrack reaches a flat
fireroad. Sometimes it makes sense to do that. I did not lose time,
my gap with John is the same. Looking over my shoulder I see the
other racers in the climb, clinging on to their handlebars as they
struggle to climb. I coast the downhill fireroad, recovering from
the climb and preparing for the section to come: a murky and rooty
wood that the night rain has turned into a muddy hell. I know what
lines I am going to take, and I will just try to stay on the bike.
The woods
I leave the fireroad and enter the
woods. I catch John Mackenzie who falls ahead of me, at the exact
same section that saw so many riders falling during practice,
including me. He quickly stands up and pushes his bike over a few
meters before jumping on the pedals again. I just pick the safest but
slowest line and gingerly tackle this section. I did not try to
overtake him, I had not enough speed and flow at this moment and I
did not want to feel the pressure of a technically better rider
behind me. I manage to stay on the bike through the woods and
negotiate a steep part at the end, full of off-camber roots and
rocks camouflaged by a layer of mud. While I congratulate myself for
getting through this, my front wheel suddenly skids away and leaves me rolling on the
ground, hitting a tree with the back of my head. I immediately jump
on my feet, reach my bike and keep going.
The top
The pain in my head adds to the pain in
my legs. Fuck the pain. It is only an information that reaches my
brain, right? And my brain has something else to focus, namely
climbing another fireroad and not letting the leader go. I realise my
front wheel is bent badly. It is still rolling, though, and the brake
rotor is straight so it could have been worse (after a visit to the
mechanic the wheel will appear to be bent beyond repair). We leave
the fireroad to enter another woody section, though the ground is
hardpack there, with only a few very soft sections that leave me
pushing the bike for a few meters.
We cross two water streams, climb
through woods, and enter another climbing fireroad. John is not too
far ahead. I see him frequently looking behind, indicating he is
pushing hard to build distance between me and him. There is nobody in
sight behind me. The fireroad leads to two very uneven downhill
singletrack sections filled with rocks and roots, now shiny and
slippery from the night rain. This section has seen me go over the
handlebar yesterday so I keep it safe today. I keep control for most
of this part, putting a foot down once in a while.
The end
A small crowd cheers us with shouts and
handclaps as we leave the singletrack and enter another fireroad that
leads to the bottom of the course. This is better than any caffeine
gel. Everything is rather flat and smooth now, so I just cruise my
way down. I hit my brakes hard as I get into the U turn at the start
of the loop. I did not anticipate the turn enough and lose almost
all my momentum. I stand on the pedals and hammer on to reach race
pace again.
All pedalling resistance suddenly goes
away with a 'click' sound. I look behind me and see the chain lying
on the ground. I keep my head cool and flip the bike upside-down to
repair. I have a quick link and a chain tool. The only problem is
that I do not know how to put a quick link properly. The lack of
lucidity provoked by the effort does not help. Even with a few very
kind spectators helping me, we do not manage to repair the chain. I
see the rest of the pack overtaking me minutes later. I persevere for
another few minutes but it is hopeless.
I am walking down the road back to the
car. I try to think positively about this pitiful race. I had all the
tools to repair the chain in a few minutes, but lacked the skill to
do it. At least it is a good lesson for the future. I could see my
fitness is very decent, now I just need to get my technical and
mechanical skills to the same level. Finally, the series points are
scored over 5 out of 6 races, so there is definitely room for this. I enjoy some warm tea while watching the racers cross the finish line. They look knackered, Thomas is full of cramps. Several people did not finish in the sport category, including one with a broken saddle. This was clearly a tough race, both physically and technically!
Thanks to Alan Forsyth for the race pictures.
Thanks to Alan Forsyth for the race pictures.
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