Traversing a Kiwi classic

Being born and bred in the land of Aotearoa and also being a mountain biker, there are certain tracks that are part of my heritage that as a Kiwi I need to do while I have the chance. Rides such as the Heaphy track and Karapoti. The 42nd Traverse is one such ride, so I set out to leave one less epic ride on the to-do list.

For those who don't know the 42nd Traverse is a 42km (duh!) long ride through the mountains of the central North Island. Although the ride, or in this case race, finishes at a lower altitude than it starts at, competitors should not fall sly of the popular myth that it is all downhill. Described by many as "undulating," there are in reality around 5 notable climbs and descents with little in between. Burn the legs up, burn the breaks down.

Hiding away in our travelers lodge the night before, it was a much debated topic over what the weather would be like the following day. Heavy showers punctuated with bright sunshine had filled out the prior week, and even that evening we were still having on and off showers of rain from the chilly mountain skies. It seemed though, the next day, that these fears were unfounded; clear skies all around, although there was a cold wind blowing through the area.

On the race start line everyone but me was wrapped to the ears in warm clothing bar me. Unless my sweat is literally freezing to my skin when I am racing I usually prefer to ride with as light weight clothing as possible to prevent overheating. Seems I wouldn't get a choice as my mum forced me into my riding jacket to ward off the cold. I would regret letting her do this later but what will be will be.

This race easily had one of the fastest starts I have ever witnessed. "Cruising" at a cool 50km/h in my hardest gear along the gravel road we quickly hit the farm track when super fast guy Carl Jones broke away from the group. Feeling alright but not thinking it through, I decided to break too and stick on is tail. Stupid idea. Carl is the NZ Elite XC men's champion, building to head off to worlds. I am not. I got dropped. It was as simple as that. I was already slightly out of breathe from trying to chase Carl and we weren't even 10 minutes into the race!

I was quickly joined by my friend Kim and together we began to put the pace on and try and chase a few of the guys up the front. I quickly found that although I could old everyone on the hills, I lacked the guts to let go of my brakes and fly down the hills as fast as some of the other riders. That was fine by me though as I know descending is my weakness. We continued on our way and even managed to overtake a few riders, all the while enjoying the amazing environment we had the good fortune to ride in.

The T42 isn't like a typical mountain bike trail, where manicured berms and switchbacks grace the trail with aplomb. Instead, there is a narrowish gravel track with a ruts, deep puddles and steep gradients. And I LOVED IT!!! The speeds were so much higher than those on a typical trail with just enough of a sense of danger to stop you becoming complacent. Whipping through rock gardens and rocketing over rivers made for a race that was different to anything I had ever done before, and it was great.

River crossings, steep pinch climbs, less steep longer climbs and fast descending was all that today was about. Very different to what we Aucklanders are used to. There's not much more to say than that really. Crossing the line as tenth in Open men I can now say that I have started checking off the list of great NZ rides that I must do here in this country. Worth every cent of the rather steep entry fee. Just go do it.

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...

Papers

Had this published about me in the local paper a while back. Thought it might be worth sharing...

Robin's Race Faces

I am notorious for making funny race faces, so I decided to compile some of my best ones yet. Pick your favourite and leave it's corresponding number in the comment box at the bottom of the page. I want to see which one YOU GUYS like the most ;-)  Enjoy!

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Review: Mavic Plasma Helmet

Mavic Plasma

RRP: $400

Distributor: Armstrong Sport NZ.

When riding a bicycle on the road, you are required by New Zealand law to wear a helmet. By no means is this a bad thing; in a high speed impact like those found on a mountain bike that polystyrene shell is all that stands between you and a trip to A&E. Helmets I have owned over the years are a testament to this; the little dings and dents from rocks would otherwise be moulded into the surface of my skull.  Not all helmets are born equal though; a bad helmet can be heavy, sweaty, uncomfortable, unfashionable and potentially dangerous. A good helmet fitted correctly is the exact opposite, maintaining a good fit and level of protection without giving your head a distinctively mushroomish profile. I believe I have found the right helmet for me, the Mavic Plasma. 

Known affectionately in my family as the “mutant space fish” the Plasma from French company Mavic is a distinctive looking XC/Road helmet that isn't all too common in sunny Aotearoa. 20 large vents adorn the outside with internal channeling from the forward vents to the back in order to maximise airflow and stop you from losing your cool in the heat of a race. The hottest days have proven no match for the Plasma with my head staying cool no matter what. The Plasma comes complete with a removable visor, anti-static padding and Mavic’s top “Ergo Hold SL” retention system with 3 different height settings to get the correct fit. The knob that controls the tension on the Plasma’s retention system is very easy to find without being bulky, and adjusts in minute increments to help fine tune fit, a feature I like a lot seeing as my head seems to change size slightly as I ride; such fine adjustment is surprisingly handy.

The entire package weighs in at a claimed 310 grams for a medium size, which although slightly heavier than some high end race orientated helmets is still right in the ball park with most of the top players in the helmet market. Once set up properly I found I didn’t really notice the Plasma when riding which I suppose is the highest praise you can really give a helmet’s fit. The straps are easily adjustable and stay where they are told to, the ratcheting system is padded to make it even more comfortable, and the removable padding does a good job of trapping sweat on hot days. Although I haven’t had the chance to test how it performs in a high speed crash the construction certainly feels solid enough to take whatever is thrown at it thanks to glass fibre reinforcing. Colouring is in my opinion stylish and not outlandish, unless you choose to upgrade to the Plasma SL which is available in bright yellow…

So who exactly is this helmet for? If you want a high end, well vented helmet that none of your riding buddies have, prefer Camembert cheese to cheddar and don’t have an allergy to space fish, then the Mavic Plasma might just be the helmet for you. The Mavic Plasma is très, très bon.

Review: Camelbak Octane LR

Camelbak Octane LR.

RRP: $179

The average human is between 55% and 60% water. When cycling you lose a minimum of 0.8 litres of this EVERY HOUR. That’s a little more than a water bottles worth. With this water loss goes vital electrolytes which, when lost in sufficient amounts, cause dehydration and cramping. A lack of water also prevents you metabolising food properly, so you slow down. Nobody likes slowing down so that’s why many people like to ride with Hydropacks to carry enough water. My favourite for long distance racing is the Camelbak Octane LR.

Camelbak have been at the top of the hydration game for many years and the Octane range are their offerings for racers. The Octane LR is unique because it features what Camelbak call “The Lumbar Reservoir”. Instead of a vertically orientated bladder, the Octane LR’s bladder wraps around your waist inside the hip belt. The advantage of this is that it lowers the packs’ centre of gravity to carry the weight around your hips making it very comfortable on long rides, as well as allowing your back to breathe and evaporate off excess sweat. This orientation also stops the water from sloshing around making it quiet and stable.

The lightweight fabric of the pack means it only weighs in at 400g and breathes well so when shunting it on a race course the sweat isn't trapped into a cold, clammy line down your back. The downside is that the two zippered compartments on the back can be felt if they are stuffed full of tools as there is no backing plate in the interests of keeping the pack lightweight. This is an acceptable compromise though as the pack is otherwise very comfortable and light. For Gels and other food there is a zippered pocket on each side of the waist belt as well as a gel pouch on the left shoulder strap. This has an elasticated top to stop gels from abandoning ship down a technical section or in the event of a crash; a nice touch as no-one likes facing the prospect of 50km of racing without food.

In use Camelbak’s Antidote reservoir performed remarkably providing water quickly when required. One of my complaints of the old reservoirs was that they were an absolute nightmare to open; it took the upper body of a body builder just to top them up. I am pleased to say no such problem exists with the Octane LR as the new reservoir is very easy to open and close. The bladder opening is also very easily accessed from outside the pack so if you need to fill up halfway through a ride this is easy to do. The new locking system for the hose means easy removal for cleaning (a must do if you use electrolyte in one of these) so you can spend less time cleaning and more time riding. The hose routing is intelligent coming from the base of the pack and up the shoulder strap so the mouthpiece points upwards instead of the more traditional “over the shoulder” approach. This has felt surprisingly natural in use and makes accessing the hose quickly just that bit easier.   

Everything about this pack just felt fast. Fast to drink, fast to access food, fast to clean; you name it, it does it well. You can’t ask much more from a pack than that. Light, comfortable, and works how you’d expect. My go-to endurance race pack.

A Long Way to Ride: XC Marathon Nationals 2013.

There is something special about the concept of a marathon, in any kind of guise. It is all very well saying "I ran 30 km" or "I rode 50 km," but people will just nod, smile, tell you that's nice, and go on with their day. However, if you tell someone you did a marathon... suddenly they are all ears and staring at you with a slightly awed look on their face as they bask in your sheer athletic prowess. Although that is a slightly overcooked example, it is true that people do think you are slightly broken in the head when the idea of a marathon enters the conversation. And when you tell them that the marathon in question will be at full race pace with a national title on the line, the jaws drop even lower. This is often accompanied by a slight shaking of the head and the phrase "are you nuts?!?!?!" But alas, that is what I had was intending to do when I entered the Highlander 2013, also known as the New Zealand Mountain Bike Cross Country Marathon Champs (try saying that in one breath.)

The weather in this country is slightly queer. We have been in the middle of the worst summer drought in years, and on the day of the race it decides it's going to rain for the first time in months... A rather damp field with a few tents was what awaited me on arrival to the Whakarewarewa forest, and despite this I was still looking forward to the race. Even in the rain, Rotorua is still an amazing place to ride. At registration I glanced down at the list of entrants and couldn't help but notice that there were only about 50 people on it. Upon closer inspection this was the list for all race categories and age groups... Turns out all the riders for U17 80 km had decided not to enter. I'm not sure if it was the distance or the promise of rain that scared them all away, but I was to be racing alone. I talked to U17 short course XC 2013 winner Nathan about why he didn't enter, and the reply was that it was to long for him to even consider entering... So knowing that there were no other U17's, I adjusted my sights instead to finish in under 4 hours and try and hold the top guys for as long as possible. 

I have a reputation for strange race faces. Here is a focused one.

The start was fast and furious. If there was any planning to pace from the riders, it wasn't evident as we battled it out to make it into the singletrack first.

Surprisingly, I found myself keeping pace with the lead riders through the first section of singletrack. Railing our way through creek track, I was quick to hook up with endurance expert and all round nice guy Ryan Hunt, and together we began to force our way through the field. Ra had been kind enough to to include a few sections early on in the race designed to level out the field; namely a hike a bike section straight up the nearest hill. A short section of queue jumping made it seem more like a shopping mall than a bike race, and before we knew it we were back on the bikes again.

At this stage I was feeling as comfortable as a Labrador on a couch and was easily holding a group of pretty fast riders. We rolled into Genesis and this is where things got interesting. There is this one downhill in Genesis that is notorious for ejecting water bottles, and you'll never guess what happened... I was face with a decision: go back and grab the now ejected bottle and lose the lead group or face down 40km until the next feed zone with 750ml less water than I was expecting... Thinking that the cramp preventing electrolyte is ambrosia for distance racers, I chose the first option.

I had lost sight of the lead group as they burnt up the fire road and so was facing the next 72km or so all by my self, unless someone behind me caught me or I reeled a few riders in. As the race began to drag on I chose to reel riders in. Slowly but surely I worked my way through the pack and eventually found my way to the next notable section of trail; another hike a bike section. I wish I had some photos to show you of it because it was pretty steep and went on for ages. It's times like that I'm glad I own bike shoes that are actually walkable in. Turns out this was to take us to the top of a gravel descent which, seeing as today was the first rain it had seen in at least a month, was pretty slidey and loose under the wheels. At the bottom of this I was greeted by every Endurance Racer's favourite sight; the Feed Zone.

For those of you who know me well enough, you will have undoubtedly heard that I swear by icecream as a pre race food. This is true. Today, however, I was going to experiment in a new usage of icecream, as a food source during a race. Turns out this wasn't such a good idea. First of all, despite being kept in a chilly bin the icecream had completely melted. Secondly, it turns out that to digest the protein in icecream whilst riding is quite hard, and my stomach was not happy. Nausea out on track is not fun, and I was lucky not to send it all straight back out again. I think it can stay as a pre race food from now on...

The last half of the race passed with little to write home about. With on and off rain I spun my way through trail after trail and fire road after fire road, moving ever closer to the finish line with each crank stroke. The rain intensified. Rolling through Chinese menu it was impossible to tell whether it was sweat or rain clinging to my cycling jersey. Nonetheless, I kept pushing forward. As I hit Be Rude Not 2 the rain lifted a little bit with glimpses of sunlight showing through the clouds. This didn't last long and it was raining again before I reached the covered section of the trail again.

At long last I reached the last section of trail; Rosebank. Rosebank is a series of switchbacks, pinch climbs and short, technical downhills that end at a small stream crossing. As the last section of trail, my gps was telling me I had around 6 minutes left before I would cross over the 4 hour mark. If I pushed, I knew I could do it. The funny thing about racing is that no matter how tired you are, at the end of a race somehow you can open up the taps that control your energy output and pump out an extra burst of speed, much like the afterburners on a fighter jet. That is exactly how Rosebank felt to me. As I hit the river crossing at the end at full pace, I was greeted by cheers from my fellow JAFAKIDS Kim and Kalen, who had already competed in the 40km event. I whipped past them and sprinted across the field to the finish line. Sliding across the wet grass to a stop, I knew I had done what was without a doubt the hardest race of my life so far. 80km, 3 hours 58 minutes, and a whole lot of rain later I had completed the Highlander.

Skidding on the wet grass often leads to overshooting.

Truth of the matter is I love distance events, and the Highlander was no exception. If there was a marathon race on every weekend that there was a short course race here in Auckland, there would be one less guy to beat in the U17 Short course races because I would head off to the Marathon instead. It's more of a challenge, and a single stuff up doesn't spell the end of your race. For anyone looking to give their first XC Marathon a go, know that there will be smiles, there will be tears, and there will be moments that you curse the course designer's name to the four winds. but when you finish, you WILL know that you have done something that others consider to be truly extraordinary. So, are you nuts?!?!?! I think not...

When it Goes Wrong: Nationals 2013 Part 2.

In my last piece, I left out the final two laps of the U17's Nationals race for a reason. If you haven't read that post, it can be found here. This chronicles what happened in those two laps. This is what I believe to be the truth, and it is up to you to decide whether or not you believe me. However,

One request before I begin. I have deliberately left out the name of the person involved because the case is under investigation by both the club I belong to and by BikeNZ. If you manage to figure out who the person involved was, I ask that you keep it to yourself. If you cannot do this then try not read on. 

When I last left off we were 2 laps into the race. Nathan and Scott had slipped away after a minor debacle on Pig Track and I was now in third place. Coming up Nursery road at the start of the 3rd lap of the race, I was finally caught by a rider riding in the same category as I who then overtook me up the hill. He began to slow as we passed the tech zone. As we got further up the hill his pace slowed further to the point where it was obvious he had worked harder than he had been expecting up the hill and was now tired; he clearly wanted me to overtake so he could stream me up the hill. For those of you who have never raced me or seen me race, I do not go out and flog myself until I'm dead and hope that I have crossed the finish line before then. I race strategically. It is not uncommon for me to let a rider pass me so I can stream off them until they are dead, before breaking away and leaving them behind, now on fresh legs and ready to attack the course. That is what I did to this rider. He knew this and began to try and rile me so that I would get angry and try to break away. He tried to insult me, imply things about my character, make me mad. I did not rise to the bait. I answered any of his jibes in the most unexpected yet polite ways I could; I could tell my responses were not what he expected and were riling him. I would pass when I was ready to pass. Realising I wasn't reacting how he wanted, this rider began putting on some pace again as we entered Genesis.

This is where things began to get dark. As we rode through Genesis I could tell the other rider wasn't recovering, whereas I was feeling stronger by the second. Genesis finishes on a fire road, and it was here I knew the other rider was expecting me to overtake. I would not react to his expectations. I knew in Genesis that there was a section of track after one of the corners where it widened up enough for 2 riders to ride abreast. I new that with my recovered legs that I would be able to take the other rider through here and it would be the last place he would expect me to try. As we rounded the corner I went for it; I pulled left and opened up the mental throttle to go into a sprint. The other rider, hearing me gear up, looked left as I began to accelerate. The general rule of riding a mountain bike is "where you look is where you go." Seeing as this rider was looking left, he unconsciously began to pull left into my path...

What happened was the following. The other rider, having essentially cut me off, got hooked on my bar ends and we both went down. Hard. Seeing as he was slightly ahead, he fell down in front of me and landed on my front wheel. He was mad. Very mad. He believed I had caused the crash, and as he got up began swearing and verbally abusing me. By UCI rules this alone is a disqualifiable offence. Just before he got back on his bike he shouted one last cry of "F*** YOU!!!", backhanded me across the face with enough force to knock me to the ground, got on his bike and rode off. I will be honest with you now; I have never been struck in anger by another person before. What had just happened left me stunned for a moment, and it took a few seconds to realize what had happened and that my bike was still immobilised from the crash. The chain was dangling over the crank, and to make matters worse the fifth placed rider had just turned onto the straight where my bike lay. I managed to get the chain on and get moving before the fifth place rider, Josh Lee, caught me. 

Once we hit the fire road another thing dawned on me; my front wheel was wobbling like crazy. I later discovered it was so taco'd I could probably have eaten it. If you could be bothered to hunt down my lap times, you would find that my third lap was significantly slower than my others. This is because I had to get up from the crash and ride gently at first to check if my front wheel was about to explode from under me. Luckily it survived the worst the track could throw at me throughout the third lap and I set to work trying to reel in my assailant. I could see him about halfway up Nursery road hill as I started my final lap, and as the distance to the finish line slowly diminished Josh and I pulled closer and closer...

We finally caught the rider as we passed the crowd for the final time heading towards Old Exit trail. I can honestly tell you he was exhausted. He had next to nothing left. We hammered down Old Exit trail, and I knew with all my heart that it was going to come down to a sprint finish. We turned the final corner, and as I stood to go into a sprint...

 My. Chain. Jammed.

Turns out the impact of my crash earlier on had thrown everything out of alignment, and as such I was stranded just before the finish line at a snail's pace while the other two stormed across to finish their race. I have never been more disappointed, despaired, angry and upset at the same time before. I was gutted. I had missed out on the one thing I had dedicated the last four months of my life towards; a podium at Nationals.

As soon as I crossed the finish line I went straight to the nearest commissiare. I told him that I had been hit out on the course by another rider and his face dropped. He later explained to me that never in his long career as a commissiare had he been required to deal with an assault case at an MTB race. He immediately called the other rider over and said "did you hit this rider in the face?" to which the rider replied "yes, and he deserved it for cutting me off". That will stick with me for a long time; the look on his face as he stared the commissiare down and told him that I deserved what he had done to me. He was DQ'd on the spot and told further action would likely be taken. 

I would just like to put this in perspective for a moment. If such an incident had occurred, for example, outside a bar, the police would likely have been called and there would be a chance of spending the night in a cell. This was a case of assault and would be treated as such.  

The rest of the day past in a blur after that, but the aftermath did not. What the other rider did was so much more than a blow to the face. Under normal circumstances, fourth place at Nationals for an un-coached rider, on a bike that was broken for half the race, who only lost it at the end because of a mechanical would be AMAZING and there would be a lot of pride in that. But instead of any form of congratulations or celebration, I became "that guy who got punched in the face". I believe that the actual assault itself was not the biggest crime committed; I believe the fact that the aftermath completely sucked dry the rest of the day of any happiness whatsoever was the true crime. Four months of work had just been laid to waste. My parents, who aren't usually drinkers, had brought with them to the race a bottle of champagne for a celebration when I finished the race, but we were just too sad and preoccupied to open it or even contemplate celebrating thanks to the mornings events. It still lies unopened. 

Thank you to everyone out there who was supportive of me that Saturday; who looked past the incident, still congratulated me, checked to see if I was alright and was just in general kind to me. It means a  lot. Thank you to my family for being there for me and for standing by my side. Thank you to the friends who couldn't be at the race who phoned to see how it went and to check up on me. Thank You. 

I cannot change the past. I cannot undo what was done. I know that forever more that race will stick in my memory as the time I almost got a national level podium. Next year I move up to U19 category where I know that being in the top half of the field will be an achievement; I can kiss any podium dreams good bye for a few years. This was probably my last shot at an NZ National champs. Nothing is going to change that. All I can do now is move forward, hope secondary schools fares better and try even harder. As for the rider who caused all this, in the unlikely event that you read this, I just want you to know that what you did was so much more than just a blow. It did so much more than that. Just think about it for a moment.

-Robin.