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Just One of Those Days

by rickyd

I’m bumming. Last night was the second of the Wednesdays @ Wakefield races and I didn’t have a good run at it. I had high hopes for this race since I did fairly well for myself at the first of the series a month ago. Instead, I’m sporting a sore face, black and blue leg, scraped knee, but mostly, a bruised ego.

The start was crowded. Seems most folks have figured out a good holeshot usually means good endings because you don’t crowd up as much. The hillclimb that is supposed to string us all out, didn’t. We were clumped together tighter than a clusterf*ck. People were running into each other. Ten seconds into the race and it was already not going so good. I get cut off so badly on the right side that I veer all the way to the left to get around and I almost get taken out by a stationary pole in the middle of the trail.

Then two minutes into the race there was a crash on a short downhill where there was no option of riding off to the side, so guys started piledriving into each other. Someone rammed into me and I could hear the smashing of bodies and bikes. I didn’t look back. I just untangled from the mess, and sprinted to try to catch the lead pack. I spin my ass off in the stream section then pop out onto a fairly wide trail that will soon spit us back into the woods, followed by some tight singletrack with little opportunity to pass. This is my chance to get up there to contend.

I rev the legs up to get by as many people as I can. I pass one guy. Then another. When I tried to pass another guy on his right, he assumed folks were trying to pass on his left. He veered right. We locked bars. We both kersplatted on the trail. I took a digger with my face and chest.

We both jump up apologizing profusely. He for cutting me off, me for not giving warning. Neither of our faults. It’s racing. I get the wind knocked out of me so I hunch over my bars for a few seconds to catch my breath. I feel dripping on my face, wondering if it’s blood. I’ve had at least 30 stitches in my mug from faceplants before. Wipe, look, and it’s clear. Just sweat. A quick glance over the rest of my parts and I notice I’m bleeding a bit from the knee. Whatever. Gotta keep moving.

I jump back on the bike. Ouch. Bruise and charlie horse, left leg. Must have hit it with the end of the Jones bar. I step off to massage it a little and get it moving again. I hop back on. Oh wait. Stem facing 30 degrees from North. Out comes the Allen wrench to straighten it out. I get it figured out quick and jump back on. Wait again. WTF? Major rubbing and bike won’t go. I hop off again and look at the rear wheel and spin it. Looks good. Wheel’s straight and brake pads didn’t shift out of place. Pick up the front and try to spin it. It doesn’t move. The tire is steadfastly held in place by the left fork leg. I unclamp the skewer, set the front of the bike down, and reclamp it. I noticed it shifted a lot. Good. No problems with it bumping out of true (or so I thought). Hop back on bike again and try to go. No dice. Wheel spun about a quarter turn and is stopped abruptly by the tire hitting fork again. I know what I have to do.

I take the wheel out, spin it briefly to find the high spots. I place it on the ground and step on the opposing sides of the wheel where the high spots are. I pick it up and spin it to see if it improved. Barely. I flip the wheel over and try the bounce-truing again on the high spots. I throw the wheel back into the fork, clamp down and try to take off. Tire still hitting fork solidly. Left leg cramps from where the bar struck it. Dammit! Race over. I hoof it back. The second DNF since I started racing a dozen years ago. Bummer.

Up next? The ORAMM (Off Road Assault on Mount Mitchell) down in North Carolina this Sunday. 11,000 feet of climbing in 55 miles. I did no research on this race, but for comparison’s sake, the SM100 is 14,000 feet of elevation in 100 miles. Just figured I have vacation and I might as well use it. Why not do a race 10 hours away? Heh.

I just hope my legs’re not smarting as much as they are right now. Three days to get over it and get the bike back in working order. Buck up, Ricky, buck up.

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