i think crashing and racing are synonymous. it’s like someone once told me about skiing: “if you’re not falling down, you’re not trying hard enough”.
saturday’s race in beautiful seatac went just a WEE bit more successful than last week’s epic ride (walk). but it makes for a less colorful (and wordy) story… well, almost as wordy.
the race occurred in a strange netherworld environment — somewhere between city park and basic unused urban land. it’s a heavily wooded tract of land immediately at the south end of the seatac airport runways. actually, there’s a golf course immediately south of the runways, which makes perfect sense, then the race area is south of that. besides the trees, there are myriad singletrack trails blanketing the area, punctuated by the ocasional rusting automobile body or pile of excavated concrete and rebar.
the course was probably the most serpentine maze of oxbows i think i’ve ever ridden — no doubt that’s what had to happen to fit a 5-mile lap into the relatively small parcel of land that contained it. i arrived early and managed to squeeze in half of a practice lap to get familiar with the course.
my class (sport men, 30-39) was scheduled to start at 12:30p, for which all of us 30-somethings amassed at the start line at the properly appointed time… only to stand around shivering in the rain and wind for 25 minutes for our delayed start. during the wait, i noticed my heart rate monitor display was fading… and eventually the battery died. not a good omen, i thought.
the gun went off (noticeably BETWEEN 747’s passing dangerously low overhead) and we hit the trail. the bulk of the excitement happened within the first 10 minutes of riding. i was in the middle of the starting pack when all riding abruptly came to a halt (typical seattle traffic, i guess). each one of us eventually was presented with a scene of devestation (at least by mountain biking standards) — a 20 foot dropoff with a handful of riders and bikes strewn willy-nilly here and there on the ground. one by one, we riders in the bottleneck inched our way to said dropoff, making that vital decision: fight or flight. half of the riders ended up dismounting and walking down, the other half stayed firmly upon their steeds and maneuvered through the carnage. i opted for the latter…. but ended up like the carnage. my front tire found a root, which launched me over the handlebars — not an appealing proposition when going downhill. i ejected from my bike and chose a path of trajectory (actually i don’t think i had a choice in the matter) which deposited me on top of a previous victim and his bike. MY bike, consequently, chose a similar path of trajectory, making a jason sandwich between two slices of bicycle. mmmmmm…
of all the crashes i’ve experienced, this is one which, in that period of slow-motion thought whilst flying through the air, i thought would probably end either my life, or my ability to walk or hold a beer in my hands. but following the *OOF*, i (and my partner in sandwich making) exited completely unscathed! no blood, no scratches, no missing bike or body parts.
i returned to the top side of my velocipede and… well, rode around in circles for the next 2 hours. mud, roots, jumps, sand, drops, trees, log jumps, this course had everything. i found a pace and stuck to it with the sole purpose of finishing the race. i stopped about every 3/4 lap to catch my breath, gulp down some ‘gu’ and water, and let my heart rate return to the sub-200’s (at least that’s what it felt like without my HRM). i even managed to redeem myself by successfully maneuvering the aforementioned scene of carnage and devastation on each of the next 3 laps.
the last bit of excitement, though, happened in the last 1/4 mile. with the finish line drawing closer, i found my second (or should i say ‘final’) wind and stepped up the pace. i found myself inching up on a rider whom i knew to be in my age group, so i mustered as much oomph as my throbbing legs were capable of producing at this late stage. we both rounded the final bend as he looked back to see me — at which point we both broke into a mad sprint for the finish line as if we were battling for the win (actually, i’m guessing we were probably about mid-field). i shifted up a gear… which my mud-caked rear cogs didn’t like one bit. he beat me literally by a nose.
we both collapsed in the mud just past the finish line, laughing and gave each other a weak-armed high-five. it turns out he and i were standing next to each other while we waited for the race to start.
for those interested in the numbers, results were just posted today! i’m 32nd out of 65 in my class (including the DNF’s). i usually shoot for the mid-field (striving for mediocrity, y’know) so i’m pretty happy, although i hope to make some improvements as my training continues. i’m a little unhappy, though, that ferdinand flores (the guy i raced to the finish line) posted 1.2 seconds faster than me… it should be more like 0.2 seconds. i wonder if i should file an official grievance with NORBA….???
my next race is in port angeles on the 26th. pam and i were just gifted a new digital video camera, so future races should be well documented with amazing crash footage!
Posted by jason at April 8, 2003 12:08 PM