It's been too long, SC&M!

Last Thursday, I was all ready to get a good weekend of racing in. I was planning on doing the Wisconsin Trash Dash race, up in Whitewater, followed by the Carpentersville, IL, Chicago Cross Cup race located considerably closer to home. But, those plans, like most of the plans that I make, all went into the gutter. Somehow I pulled a muscle in my right thigh and in turn, my right knee started giving me a small fit. Nothing major, but certainly cause for caution. As a result, I ended up forgoing the drive to Whitewater, WI, in order to have an easy day.

Of course, I'm incapable of taking a day off of the bike, except when I'm absolutely fragged, so I went out on Saturday afternoon to check out the new bike and make sure it was running well, with no mechanical hiccups. I met Bill Guy downtown and we cruised around for a bit on the LFP, amidst all the tourists and one-ride-a-week'ers. And, of course, I am completely incapable of just taking it easy on the bike. I pulled Bill all the way to Rogers Park and put in a solid, hard effort, which is just what I didn't want to do the day before a race. After I got home, I took a shower, got dressed, and then went to Chipotle with Bill and Amy.

Sunday morning, I woke up early, got the coffee and oatmeal together, and got everything ready for the race. I'd secured a ride with Kevin C. from ChiFG, and I had a couple of hours to kill. So I got some school work done, cleaned the apartment, and read the paper. Relaxing stuff, really, but I still had those pre-race jitters in the pit of my stomach. Around 10, Kevin picked me up and we made our way to Carpentersville, a suburb of Chicago about 30 miles out. After finding the race, we made camp on one of the picnic tables and got all of our stuff together for the race. Since I was racing as a 3, I had a little bit less time to kill than Kevin and Soupy, a fellow ChiFG-er who set up shop at the table.

I got all my gear together, registered, and then rode around to get the muscles supple and warmed-up. Except, my legs were not in the mood to get supple and warmed-up – they felt stiff, wooden, and sore. Kind of like they've been feeling the past couple of weeks, which is due more to the fact that I've been on brutally hard rides with Curtis Mann, than anything else. So, I rode around, up and down a hill to open the legs up and get the blood circulating.

I also got a chance to check the course out: it was a fast, somewhat technical course laid out in the middle of a city park. The racecourse started off with a big sweeper, that doubled-in upon itself, to a double set of barriers before a steep little run-up. Down off the run-up, one would ride across to a couple of 180-degree turns, then hurdle over a barrier set right before a creek, and then ride up a set of chicanes set between some trees. Then, over a another barrier before yet another creek, and around a softball field. Then traverse the same creek AGAIN, and then run/ride through sand pit before going up and over the little hill, before coming back down into the start/finish area. I would explain the course in better detail, except I've already forgotten most of the most painful details.

By the time that my race was due to start, I was starting to feel kind of decent, but by no means great. I'd sucked down a gel, had half a PB&J, and gotten the chance to ride the course 3-4 times. I was warmed-up, fed, and familiar. At the sound of the start whistle, I was pushing off with a good sprint, putting me about four guys back. It was this way until about three laps in when I started sliding backward – my legs were cramping up and in fits of pain, my lungs were on fire, and I kept on praying that my bike would have a mechanical, all familiar feelings for anyone in the middle of a cyclocross race. And when I dropped my chain three times in the same general area, which forced me to get off the bike to put it back on, I was angry and frustrated, and yes, disheartened. Guys who I passed earlier, passed me, and I was forced to chase on. But since I was at the limit, I couldn't reel them in, no matter how hard I tried. There's nothing worse than seeing two guys working together 20 meters ahead, and no matter what you do, they don't get any closer.

After eight laps of pain, my race was finally over. Ended up getting 11th out of 14 or 15. I'm not at all happy about that, but I figure it's what I deserve. I'm finding that racing the 3's is so much harder than I originally thought, but it's only going to make me faster and stronger. I have no aspirations other than placing on the podium with some occasion as a 3, so seeing that this is only my second race as a Cat. 3, I can't complain too much. With training and some rest, I should be in better shape for the racing this weekend in Chicago and Madison, WI.

Much thanks to Kevin and Soupy for the rides to and from the race. I owe ya one (or two).