Stony Marathon XC (I need a 6th Gear!!)

Unlike traditional 4th of July weekends, Eric and I’s recent endeavours in cycling (some seem to think we are slightly crazy and unhealthy) have obviously affected those around us. I’m not blind to these changes and appreciate how supportive the family has become. I would even attest that such supportiveness has melded into encouragement and excitement. This time the entire family awoke early and we loaded into Dad’s pickup for the trip down to Stony Creek for the XC Marathon. I slid into the rear of the pickup attempting to study, but it wasn’t long before I broke my “silent time” to participate in the experience. Seeing us all together, Mom, Dad, Eric, Rachel, and I, randomly trying to talk over each other was the perfect start to a great day. Rumor had it Aunt Mikki & Uncle Jim would join us later.

Upon arrival at Stony, I slated into the Elite field for the massacre I knew that would ensue. I know some think and say, “Chris you are good enough, Don’t be so hard on yourself.” And I agree. The comments I make are only for humor and to unsettle some of my internal anxiety. I know I need to ride with them. And in addition, although Tanguy lapped me, my time gaps off of the other racers are sufficient for me. I learned a few key things from Lumberjack that are recent deficiencies in my riding style, which is why I have begun to target the shorter races. In the midst of 4 to 7 hour training rides, I’ve completely destroyed my top end gear I once used to revel in. In prior years, I could push myself to my pain threshold, smash my heartrate to the ceiling like a Ferrari, and go at it until I couldn’t see straight, crashed, or finished. I’ve noted that isn’t the case this year, as I seem to failed to realize while building my base miles.

So did I expect to compete until the end Saturday? no. Did I expect to have a good time? Certainly. Did that all occur? Hell yeah. So now your wondering, well, Chris how was the race. First, Christian Tanguy introduced himself to me, and then we chatted it up. I even have a picture to prove it. Second, my number again was single digits … pretty freak’n cool. I should mention the other guys at the line were friendly too, including Parmalee, who I seen later having a rough day, and Rob Herriman, who is super friendly and race wise. So the race started and the pace right at the start was high, like xc pace high. I was ready for a high pace, but not this high. I knew I would never make it the whole race, and with no warm-up the legs started feeling it quick. I didn’t intend to let off because this was the perfect motivation to tune-up my lackluster top end I currently have. I made the first selection while a few others dropped off the back. On the second grind, three of us slowly dropped off pace. Soon enough, it was Rob and I railing it through the single track portion. I hadn’t let up yet because I seriously thought we could catch back on in the single track, but it never happened. It didn’t help that I didn’t get my flow until the 3rd lap when I lowered my front tire about 10psi. We traded pulls on the road, but I knew how it was all going to end. So I told Rob I would try to help out the best I could until I dropped off and rode my own race. It was nice to have someone around until on a little switchback climb my rear wheel ejected from my frame and into my bottom bracket. Not sure why, but by the time I got it back in place the expert field was just coming through. I tagged onto them and couldn’t believe the pace they were running. I could tell their pace was slightly higher than Rob and I’s so I honestly thought I could stay with the group of 4 expert guys to get dragged back up too Rob. That was all fine and dandy until I ran into rear derailleur issues on the 4th lap. I started missing shifts right after Rachel and I did a perfect hand-off. I was set to go pace back in the final two laps when right at the top of the first climb it was shifting like shit. I stood up and mashed at the pedals. I even garnered some upper body strength I thought I used on the previous lap when I was coming up a climb to finish out my third lap..

Regardless I started tuning with the barrel adjuster on the fly. Every time I got it close I was so dam proud of myself. Then it would miss a shift. On the second long grinder I twisted to go easier and got nothing but pain. My rear derailleur, at this point under its own direction, headed off to find the smallest hardest gear on my cassette. In able to muster Batman form and just continue to mash it up the hill, my legs quenched under the force. I ‘cross’ hopped off and ran up the climb. Once at the top, I realized the problem. My derailleur bolt came loose and my cable was no longer attached to my rear derailleur so that I could shift my bike. I was only 1 mile into the course, and to be frank it was mostly downhill back to the pit or at least pedable in the gear I had. Instead I made the … wrong decision and started pedaling down the doubletrack. I kept asking passing riders if they had any tools, but that was of no use. I finally found a father and his son racing together. The father gladly stopped and helped me. I can’t remember if we introduced each other, but I doubt it. He was wearing a RBS jersey. (Thanks so much, I looked for you in the end, but you weren’t with the other RBS guys). This guy salvaged what I had left of my race. Not only did he stop riding with his son to assist me, but he was full of good luck. He grabbed my cable with some pliers and tightened down the bolt. His random taughteness on the cable got me seven of my 9 gears spot on. It was awesome. We left together, but I laughed as he dropped me for a few minutes. I didn’t expect it. Everybody gets humored eventually. I finally caught back on in the single track where we were forced to follow a lapped rider. He didn’t seem in a hurry to get out of the way, which I feel caused the RBS father to get caught up in a small rock garden. I checked to see if he was okay and he hollered out no problem and to keep going (or something like that). I sped off, passed the traffic, and headed back for the pit knowing time was no longer on my side. I was content with the training I had already achieved and figured the final lap would be a good “cool” down lap.

Just as I completed mentally rationalizing my victories and defeats for the day, such as no bloated stomach (sweeet!), relearning for the second time I need to carry a tool (Doooh!), and missing my cliff bar (redeemed in the car ride home); who appears from behind … Christian Tanguy. What a man. He didn’t look any different then our chat I had with him at the start line, meaning he looked fresher than the cucumber I picked myself off the vine in the backyard yesterday.

Nevertheless, I waited in the pit for Eric to come through and see him finished. He was a “less than” thrilled to be done attitude and I didn’t want him to wreck my chi (Ha… chi… what a weird word) for the final lap. I also needed a tune change. So after I realized he lost by a few second to a guy after a bad crash that screwed up his shoulder, in which case it was still attached to his neck (or so it appeared), I set out for the final review of the course. It was a pleasant lap … no follies and only a few racers. In the end it was pretty sweet that as I was coming down the final single track portion tuned into Jordin Sparks; Eric, Rachel, Uncle Jim, and Aunt Mikki seen me come through. I did acknowledge them with eye contact, but not verbally. I was right in the middle of the chorus.

Either way the day was awesome. We packed up. Eric got a medal. I won a bottle and a hat. And as we were rolling out I ate my Clif bar I wanted for the last two laps. We ended the trip at the Sliverstar or dollar or something restaurant in Lapeer? Or maybe Imaly City. Eric and I just talked about the race so I don’t remember much until the restaurant. However, once there I asked if I was dirty. My mom made a very suttle comment like yeah a little and then my Aunt said you can tell you have sunglasses on because you have a little bit of a sunglass line. I’m thinking okay, not bad. I looked at Eric and he looked presentable. How dirty can you get in one extra lap? Ha… well Eric had washed off and mom and Aunt Mik were clearly lieing. Before I realized my dirtbagness, I had already ordered and bothered the waitress. Then I went and used the bathroom. I sat in the bathroom laughing. I looked so bad I took a mini shower in there. I then had to come out and apologize to the waitress that my family encourages my ability to look like such a slob. She laughed her ass off and thought because I was so hungry (I ate 3 slices of bread and 10 packs of crackers as she was setting them down) and dirty I had just worked outside all day. She was a good sport, but I still can’t believe somebody didn’t tell me maybe I would like to wash my face off. They must have all thought it was too funny to watch me walk around like that.

Over and out. Go Levi and Lance!!! Team RadioShack is stacked in the Tour this year and if the team stays out of trouble there going to probably get 4 in the top 10. (That is just my prediction!)