I stayed up late rebuilding my bike after Saturday's romp in the mud. Mountain bikers know the unseen damage riding in wet conditions will cause. Unseen damage always comes to the surface during a race, so it's better to preempt this damage before it becomes a problem. Cross races are too short for problems. I had a feeling a well running machine would give me an advantage since 99% of the field also beat the piss outta their bikes on Saturday, and most of them probably didn't do any maintenance outside of a rinse.
Oh, and I sensed your disappointment, internet, with my lack of pictures from day one, so I hired my own photographer for day two. Thanks Uri, the check is in the mail.
Front row bitches!
I think I'm shrinking, no seriously, this is the third post in a row where I have been presented evidence of my diminishing stature. No, wait. The world is growing around me. I am normal, average, if you will. You are all giants. You fucking freaks.
Let's do this.
Thankfully there are a lot of pictures of day two, because the only things I saw were Greg Whitney's seat stays. I followed him around, sucked his wheel if you will, for at least half of the race. I tried a few passes, a couple succeeded, but nothing stuck. It was taking pretty much everything I had in me just to stay on his wheel. He was killing it, and I'm pretty sure I told him that somewhere around two to go.
I had my plan though. One of my successful passes was on the long uphill sweeping turn not long before the run up. I figured I would let him do all the work, then make my move through that part on the last lap, then through the barriers, turn-turn-sprint to the finish and soak in all the glory of finishing second to Brian Wilichoski for the second day in a row. I was the wily veteran and Greg was the naive young buck who I would make an example of. Or so I thought. As I said before it was taking everything in me to stay on his wheel, I starting wondering if my plan was actually a plan or just a fantasy. Right around then, we were flying around a loose turn that fell away into the remnants of Saturday's mud pit when both my wheels slid out and I laid her down.
SHIT! Less than half a lap to go, I should be setting up my move, but I'm taking a dirtnap instead. I jump back up, and hammer until I'm back on Greg's wheel, catching him just before the barriers, where my move was supposed to have put me in front of him. Problem was I had nothing left in my legs after chasing him down and Greg hit the barriers like a man being chased by a douchebag who didn't do any of the work and was going to try and steal his podium spot.
I pulled the plug and coasted into third. Ain't no shame in losing to one of my fellow Root66'ers. He certainly earned it. Not that I want to help you roadies get any faster on a cross bike, but I would like to point out that the entire podium was filled with established mountain bikers. Sitting in a Cat3 peloton doesn't make you any faster on a cross bike. Go buy a mountain bike. Race it. You'll thank me next cross season.
(insert podium picture here, once one of your readers emails it to you)