...and sometimes, well.
The gun goes off, you are firing on cylinders, the wind whips at you, it doesn't matter, your legs turn over faster still. Turns come sweeping by, momentum carries you just to the edge of control, don't touch the brakes, ruts grab at your tires. Stand up, sprint, a rise in the course does nothing more than sear your lungs, the speed continues. In and out of turns, swinging past trees, course tape rattles alongside you, crowd noise grows, familiar voices just a blur, sounds, barriers, legs spin faster, the wind is picking up, pushing back. Look around, hold your position, keep the speed up, don't put your foot down, stand up, stay light. There is nothing but you and the bike, connected, struggling together. Turns link together, the bike cooperates, everything is right, you pour it on, this is it, you're in it...A noise, the crank slams down, nothing, a rattle of chain against frame, chaos and realizations...Sunday it was all coming together, the frustration of Sat was the last thing on my mind as I went weightless with the slight rise and fall of the course, doubts faded away, a gritted smile and short breath, it ended so fast, a sinking feeling, running.
Thus far, it's been a season pretty free of mechanical issues. This weekend, not so much. Sat ended in a less than spectacular fashion with the realization that the bike was just not working, I limped into the pit already feeling spent from the effort of turning over the cranks and dragging the chain through a derailleur that was
seized up. It didn't help to jump on a pit bike that only marginally works and is not so race worthy.
Motivation slowly faded, leaders came whipping past, the race was done before it got going.
I was back for revenge Sunday. The cold and wind were in full effect, the smell of embrocation, hissing of heaters, uncertain shaking of tents in the wind. I took my time getting ready, relaxed, carefully dressed in layers, stayed warm, applied
embro taking my time, covering legs, arms, even toes which were slowly going numb. The trainer whirred away, legs turned over, and warmth crept in. A damn beautiful starting position and the best start of the season. The thing about
cyclocross that makes it so damn special is that sometimes it's just a matter of things falling into place. This weekend, they didn't exactly, but I know they will, I will keep chasing, keep waiting, I am
patient, I am ready.
Photo: OregonVelo
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