It’s a bitch of a sport, but it’s worth a try...

“It’s a bitch of a sport, but it’s worth a try, because if you accomplish something that you never knew was possible, you’ll always have a reason to swing for the fences.” Phil Gaimon wrote in his epilogue to Pro Cycling on $10 a Day. Phil’s book is an account of his incredible and successful pursuit to be a pro cyclist. I finished Phil’s book the weekend of the ADK 80K.

This was the second year of the ADK 80K. Jen and I, again, raced in the cyclocross duo category. Last year we were the only cyclocrossing duo; this year we were the only cyclocrossers, period! When this race factoid was mentioned at the award ceremony, there was a comment from the peanut gallery – “That’s because they didn't learn last year”. Things I remember:

There was a guy, who I caught on my first lap, with a jersey that proclaimed “train with purpose”.  Wait a minute, I just wrote in my last race report that my ski coach, Joe, always tells his students to “ski with purpose”. For some reason, like yellow shoes, I found this bothersome. I thought to myself – I’m going to make this guy lose with purpose.  I passed him cresting a hill, out descended him on my cross bike and then dropped him like a hot potato (“potatoe” if you have presidential aspirations) on the next climb.

There was a maple tree sap line (plastic hose) partially unearthed and nearly parallel with the trail; to the mountain biker – non-issue; to the cyclocrosser – issue.  Nuclear fission and resultant neutrons coursing through a reactor core popped into my mind.  To the mountain biker the sap line was like most materials where Neutrons readily pass right through. To the cyclocrosser the sap line was Hydrogen, hit it and you’re instantly changing direction and loosing energy.

On the last climb up Main Street, I asked myself “why am I doing this?” I’m finishing the last half of the last lap, I’m racing no one and I’m in pain – Sisu came to mind. A Finnish word with no direct translation used to express stubborn determination. That’s what I had, a stubborn determination to finish strong and respectfully. Turns out Jen and I had a very respectable finish time.

 

I was glad to have had disc brakes on my cross bike. More than I want to admit, rattling down the rocky descents, I lost my grip on the bars and break levers. The rate of acceleration resulting from loss of control of the brake levers was panic attack invoking. Being able to stem my acceleration with one brake saved me more than once.

“That’s because they didn't learn last year” is what the peanut gallery responded. I’d like to think that Jen and I continue to “swing for the fences.”