A worse-case scenario ensued as a steady, hard down-pour began 20 minutes prior to the start of the Expert/Elite. I commented at the line-up that I would have preferred 10 degrees colder with snow. That was sincere.
With a steady waterfall dripping from helmet down my face and my clothes already soaked through, the Expert and Elite waves were sent on our way.
Upon hitting the first section of single-track it became clear that the course was slower than the previous year. The black dirt had been transformed to 6 inches of slick mud. I quickly lost track of my position in the muddy spray.
Just five miles in, navigating a tight and winding section of oil slick, I had the startling realization that I no longer had brakes. I wasn't overly concerned at that point but I was not looking forward to the descent down the ski hill at the end of the lap. Not long after that I became victim to chain-suck and was reduced to one-gear.
I thought of all of my friends (Michelle, Danielle . . . ) that ride single speeds and soldiered on. Mother Nature was the biggest competition of the day. I had no illusions that I was the only victim of multiple mechanicals: it was a level playing field.
It was with relief that I began the Crystal Climb, determined in the knowledge that I had almost slogged my way through the first lap. Knowing there would be two more laps in the rapidly deteriorating conditions in the pouring rain was a slap in the face. My chain groaned and strained.
The descent down the ski hill was harrier than I imagined. With questionable brakes at best, I slipped, skidded, and slid down the slope. Every fiber in my soul wanted to call it quits and I willed my bike to steer towards the lodge, a hot shower, coffee . . .
However, my bike had a mind of its own. Despite my please, it passed through the shoot and started lap #2. Race officials hollered at me that they were cutting the race short. Just. One. More. Lap. I wasn't sure I could do it.
But you can always do one more mile. So that is what I did: 11 more times.
Trail conditions had worsened. Instead of 6-8" of slick mud, it was now a river. It didn't matter, miles earlier I had pools of mud and water sloshing around in my shoes, bubbling up through my toes.
Riding in the driving rain, cold, mud and fighting your own bike was, well . . . , it was what it was and I couldn't do anything about it but laugh at myself, have a good time and get across that darned finish line.
I rode my second lap conservatively, just trying to stay upright. I finally made my way back around to Crystal Climb. With no one in sight behind or in front of me, I opted to walk the last sections of single-track on the descent to the lodge. The conditions were treacherous and there was no reason to risk injury.
I finished.
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| There I am! All muddy and smiles. |
I saw quite a few shivering and shaky expert/elite racers in the lodge post race. In return, I received a lot of comments about how I wasn't shivery and shaky. There was a good reason for that; it has something to do with my secret weapon (lining the inside of my jersey with Grabber Toe Warmers)--it really worked.
More post-race mutterings to come this week. And I'd like to wish all those fellow Peak2Peak 2012 survivors a heartfelt good luck in cleaning your socks!
More Peak2Peak Race Recaps:
Kolo TC
Sue Stephens -- Quiring
MI Scene
Simonster Blog
