Non-Crusade Crusade Race 11/19

So, this was an unusual event, because the big national series was in town and sort of took over our sweet little thing we’ve got going here in PDX--the Cross Crusade. I could have raced for a couple minutes with the best in the nation (one minute at the beginning and another when they lap me) if I’d wanted to shell out $150 bucks for an international racing license… nuff said.

Instead, I raced the single speed category. My sweet-ass CCX bike became, overnight, a sweet-ass singlespeed CCX bike when Bene lent me his eccentric hub… yeah, weird bike stuff… forget I mentioned it. It suffices to say that it’s sweet. And, the race was a breath of wet air: I finally got to race with teammates that have basically been playing a different sport all season. Of particular note is VS’s singlespeed top gun, Tommy, who, (yes, yes, yes!) had trouble keeping up with me (but not much). That felt real nice, not because I’m dying to beat my friend, but because homeboy can ride, and it meant that I had to be doing well. But that was about all that felt nice this fine day. Singlespeed is brutal. You can’t go fast on the smooth stuff and you can’t even ride the rough stuff. Major technique is the game. The course was a bog and I barely rode that sweet-ass bike at all. I ran every sharp corner, incline and obstacle. Converse to my usual “geared” practice: it was the time spent running that felt like a break. Crazy. I hate running. I’ve never kept that fact a secret. But it was all fun and games. For real. It was super fun.

The real event was to just watch the USGP races (and the hot tub). Epic. They rode so fast and so smooth for so long. I’ve got much work to do next season if I want a piece of that action.

Coming soon: season wrap-up. It's done. It's over.

Crusade #6 (I guess I’ll skip #5)

Wow I’m blogging the night of a race. Damn, I must be in a good mood. Yeah, I am. Today not only went well (7th place) but also, it was super fun. I was just really enjoying racing my bike.

Okay, needs mentioning: Veloshop has lost its freaking mind. We’re huge, we’re pink and oh shit we’re loud. It’s crazy to be out there racing by you freaks. At Horning’s Hideout, Anderson yells at me “Don’t spoil Christmas, Mark!” and has me slowing to look back and ask “Wha?” At Barton Park, Tommy screams “Blackwelder I want to have your children!” and cracks my shit up. Giving that guy coffee is like adding sugar to syrup. Today I have Robin and a pack of maniacs running all around me down the course prodding me to go faster, faster, faster. And that’s just isolated incidents. The whole team is amazing. You people blow my mind. You’re the air in my tires.

Yeah, things were sweet. I got called up for my 13th place series standing and it put me in a good mood right away. I just eat up stuff like that. Oh, and check this crap out! (click on Next Issue) Wow! How’d that happen???? And do I always make that face? I just wish it showed me on my Lapierre. I hadn't heard about it and got to the race and everyone was calling me Poster Child and Rockstar and stuff. I thought they were putting me on.

I can’t believe I woke up in Vegas this morning. Cab to the airport, plane ride, cab to SE, grab my stuff and get to the race. Seemed like a recipe for disaster… but nope. I love it when a plan comes together.

Crusades #3 and #4 October

Time is a problem. So is motivation. So blogging is on the back burner, left on all night, only to be discovered in the hungover morning all burnt up and subsequently soaked in dish soap all day. But here’s the blackened pot:

Cross season is tough. Saturday night I had to pimp my Franch Bicycle, just like every Saturday, but, in addition, had to last-minute my Spock costume so I wouldn’t be some Boo-Humbugger not dressed up for Flying M Ranch Halloween Cross (damn straight I’m calling you out, Cameron. Yeah, you beat Decker and everyone but Skerry; but dressing up like Molly Cameron doesn’t cut it when you’re lucky enough to actually be Molly Cameron). So I wrecked my apartment major whilst gluing, painting and papier mache’ing all my shit; got some scant shut-eye and got to the race (thanks, Bene).

Got there and started stressing just like I did last week. Made a conscious decision to say “F*ck It” (personal mantra) and to just have fun. I downed sumberse and watched the B’s and SS’s w/ Duncan (who’s just that pleasant kind of crazy… you know, doesn’t make you feel weird or in danger or anything- he’s just a little insane… and it’s nice) and took some terrible photos. Then, I wasted some precious race-watching time warming up for my own race. Missed the women’s race, which I regret deeply, only to get into my race to find that points were just plain out of reach with a climb like that thrown into the course. Every time I ascended it, 2 dudes would rocket past me never to be seen again. I just can’t do that sh!@t right now. No legs. I was really happy to see, however, that, as long as I was going backwards, one of the racers passing my fat ass was our own Shunter, who straight stripped that climb out its Underoos and got his best result of the cx season (until next week). I’ve been waiting for that sh!t all season. It’s November and Shunter’s in the hizzy. I’s got a new team leader. Pink and black, yo. Um, I mean pink and, um, white.

Oh yeah, last week… whahappened? Um, nothing, except I sacked up the short, steep climb enough times in a row to roll in and get 10th. I got all my crashes out of the way in my pre-rides. Not crashes like, dabbing, mild crashes, either. All three were I’mgoingfastandwherethehellismybikewhenIneedit full-impact crashes. There’s nothing else like that for your pre-race confidence. But then the race went down and I stayed upright (on my pit wheels), and rode pretty strong, so it’s all-good in the hood. I was in the points and was feeling fine about being MB.