Xterra-fying

Correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm pretty sure most people don't think to themselves at the start line "Maybe today will be the day I knock someone off their feet using my head." I for one certainly did not think this, but little did I know what was in store for as a rider in the Xterra MTB Race. But more on that later.

As a racer I have been taking time to rest a little and recover from what has been a rather prolonged race season for me. Truth is, when people say that lots of racing wears you down, they are not technically correct. A race can be recovered from in 2 days; it is the huge volume of training that goes with each race that wears you down. So, I decided to have a break. No serious training, the odd race for fun, and just basic maintenance of my fitness. 

Now, the truth is this strategy isn't the best for building into a freakishly fast racer, but I needed the break. So I found myself lining up for my first race in a long time where the finishing position really was not the most important thing on my mind. Sure, if I'm going to race I will race hard, but given the situation I really was not expecting to win.

The race start was a little different to what I'm used to; there simply were masses of people ready to give it a go. Being slightly late back from my warm up I found myself about 3 or 4 riders back from the line. As the starter's horn went I fought my way through the seething mass of cyclists to break out into the front pack up the first hill. I held this position until near the top where we turned off the tarmac and onto the gravel. Here, my "rigorous" training routine began to shine through and the pack quickly pulled away from me. It was clear that I wasn't going to be fighting it out for the podium...

It's a strange feeling taking the approach to a race that I took to Xterra. It is good to race for fun, but it was a new sensation being dropped up the hills by people who I had completely wiped the track with during the Nationals Season. Humbling is probably the best way to put it. 

The majority of the race continued with me trying ever so hard to put some pace down, and my under-trained body was feeling quite indignant at the proposition. Up the hills my usual fire just wasn't there, and on the downhills my forks felt like they were only using around 60% travel; my wrists felt like I had just tried to arm wrestle a heavyweight boxer. So, my climbing was substandard, my descending was substandard, and on the flats I was doing all I could to keep my speed up. 

Luckily enough, the course was only 26km with the last few kilometers being fire and tar sealed roads with a moderate downhill gradient. I worked my way down towards the finishing line, and this is when the interesting stuff happened. 

About 400m out from the finishing chute, I became aware of another rider trying to pass me. This rider looked about my age, and was sprinting his way to the finish, preparing to leave me in the dust. I do not like being out-sprinted, and when someone tries to do as such I forget about any exhaustion or pain I may be feeling and put a huge amount of force through my cranks. And it shows when I do. I shot forward like a cork from a champagne bottle and overtook the other rider, holding a sprightly 30 or so km-hr as I hit the finishing chute.

Due to the size of the event, the organisers had deliberately put special overhead crossings in place so that people could cross the track without getting in a rider's way. However, clearly some people really didn't like the idea of using established infrastructure put in place to make their lives and the lives of those competing easier and safer. As I entered the finishing chute, this man, about 70 years old, walks out onto the track RIGHT NEXT THE THE #$%^&*+ OVERHEAD CROSSING, completely oblivious of the 65kg of teenager bearing down on him at full sprint. Safe to say it was so unexpected that there was nothing I could do but shout "GET OUT OF THE WAY!" before I crashed into him head first. He was flung off his feet, I flipped over my handlebars and lay there, the rider I had just out-sprinted rolling past me to the finish line...

I could have forgiven a person for running out on to the track to cross when they think it's safe. However, for doing it right next to a perfectly safe overhead crossing and with the same sense of urgency as a stoned sloth, really rubs me up the wrong way. It is disappointing to see people actually go out of their way to give a "screw you" to the race organisers, and even more so when their actions could potentially leave them or someone else seriously injured. Luckily it did not come to that but nonetheless it ruined the race for me, and is yet another blemish on my recent racing experience. 

For some reason, it always seems to happen to me. I will race, and then someone will do something completely out of the blue like punch me in the face or leap out in front of me on the track. It seems that no matter what I do, someone, somewhere, is out to make sure the race that I have planned to the nth degree never gets to hit its full potential. These unplanned, completely unforeseeable events are part of the territory that is racing, but nonetheless it is still a disappointment every time such a thing happens. Maybe one day all this bad luck will be balanced out by a stroke of very good luck, but until then I just have to bear the brunt of what is thrown at me. 

Now is time for the real work to begin. Now is the time to start getting my running training in gear for the Duathlon season, and boost my riding fitness to complement this. Next time you see me racing will be the 42nd traverse, and even then I will be having fun with some friends rather than busting my gut entirely. So until then dear readers, go have fun with your riding.

Just Keep Spinning, 

Robin.          

Note: Sorry about the lack of photo's. I didn't get many from this one...