Mitch designed a great course -- plenty of fast, plenty of turns, some off-camber, a diving downhill familiar to anyone who's done the Wednesday night practice rides, and the classic double sandpit, complete with Tony on the drums.Lined up with my field, and was surprised not to see Greg (ZWS), who had taken first and second on Friday and Saturday. Saw him later, and he was an injury scratch. I was sad to see him go, although it most likely meant that almost all of us would move up one spot in the results. Chatted a little bit with Scot and Joern from Dayton about the little mulch bed with RR ties on either end: I had no spare wheels and couldn't afford a stupid pinch flat, so we were discussing whether or not it was totally lame to run it, or worth the risk to put my (questionable -- oh who am I kidding: nonexistent) bunny-hopping skills to the test. I asked Scot where his spare wheels were in the pit. He laughed.
The start was a pretty long flat paved section, and by the time we got to the off-camber section next to the road, today's winner in our field was away. Things really backed up, and I wasn't sure where I was positioned going toward the finish. The most aerobically challenging part of the course was the long headwind uphill grind over the field to the finish line, with a cruel little kicker up and over the line, continuing up through the uphill side of the sandpit. Did I mention that this section was uphill? I haven't looked at my max HR from the race, but I'm sure it came right as I exited the sandpit. At this point I make my way through the twisty section and come back down through the sandpit. I ride it clean, and am so stoked that I almost stop and look around for applause. Instead, I keep riding onto the section of the course that suits me better: some twisty sections through the trees, through the little mulch bed (please don't pinch flat on the railroad ties! please?! I repeated every lap). First lap I came off the mulch bed, bounced a little to check rear air pressure, and Joern, right behind me, says in his German-accented deadpan, "Shannon: you have a flat." Scot laughs. I panic for a second until I realize he's kidding, and we ride on. We take a long grass straight onto the backside of the course, 180 around a tree and onto pavement, fast down to a muddy transition back to grass, back to pavement and up around a turnaround, back onto grass and toward The Big Roller, aka Collarbone Corner: a diving downhill where -- with the right line -- you could release your brakes, pick up huge speed (for a CX race), whip up the other side and around the bend into a wooded section. I liked carrying speed into that section because for some reason I had good power through there, and was able to drop some folks and pass others. Around some trees, up and over the barriers, cross the road, around the pine tree and down to the mudhole. After the mudhole, make up as much ground as possible before zig-zagging through the off-camber and then into the headwind and the long long grind up to the finish line, knowing and dreading that the uphill slog through the sandpit awaited once again.
On the second lap I was pretty sure I was riding in second position, and sure enough as I rode the downhill side of the sandpit (cleanly, for the second time), the announcer says "and there's a Darkhorse rider, #601, our second place 35+ rider ... Shannon Smith." Now the pressure's on: one thing about CX I haven't got down yet is riding from the front (and from what I can tell of the first-place finisher's race, we were pretty much in a race for 2nd -- so for me, this was the front). I tried to relax, keep it steady, and push myself to just this side of the limit. But I couldn't help looking back, and it didn't seem like I was getting much distance between myself, Scot, Joern, Butch (Smitty's), and a QCW rider I think was Sparky (there were probably others in there, I just don't know them yet). And once I overcooked a pretty easy corner and went down on the 3rd lap, I figured holding off the chasers might be more of a challenge than I'd hoped.
So I let up a little, knowing that they'd join me, but knowing some of the risks involved with that: I was, after all, letting two teammates join me, but I was hoping to put some of the onus for driving the pace on Dayton, recover, and make a push to get away near the end. And so we headed into the fourth and final lap as 4, competing for 2nd through 5th: me, Scot and Joern, and Butch. We went up through the sand, hung out through the twisties, and headed back into the downhill sand section. I tried to take the same line I had all three previous laps: start right,
grind it and drift left, clearing the pit just as I got near the left edge. This put me behind Butch, but no problem: Butch is a mountain biker, and he'll clean this easier than me. D'oh! Butch got sideways, I got into his rear wheel, and Joern and Scot were off to the races. I came out of the pit raring to go, and got a little gap on Butch that held. I rejoined Scot, but Joern was turning in one of his strongest laps of the race, and I didn't see him until he was prostrate on the ground at the finish. I led Scot around for the rest of the lap, trying to hold off Butch and wondering what I was going to do about Scot at the finish. And then I learned I was dealing with a true gentleman: near the end of the final lap, as I was working to keep Butch at bay, Scot told me not to worry about him, that he appreciated the work I'd done and wouldn't come around at the end, and in fact, here, let me see if I can lead you out. I finished as strong as I could, but pictures show that he may have had to hold up to avoid passing me. Let me add here (and Scot may now regret this) that Scot and I are very close in the series points standings for our category. So by removing the final contest for third place, he 1) surrendered a few OVCX points to a close rival, and 2) may have given up a place on the podium -- he definitely gave up a chance at the podium. I believe the term for this is mensch. I now owe Scot a solid, but I told him it might have to wait until road season.
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