Ok, It's Monday and the dust has settled a bit. Two days of racing, so two race reports. This should be good therapy.

The race weekend started on Saturday with a short track race. Short track is a pretty accurate description of the course but does not do justice to what this race is all about: Suffering. You basically ride this fairly short loop for 20-30 minutes, then do 3-5 more laps. There's typically a straightaway, some climbs and some descents. Add 20+ guys, all going flat out, and you have a hammer fest. It hurts. People go really hard at the start and then try to hang on. Your heart goes to your throat and stays there. I usually whimper loudly at some point in the middle of the race.

About 30 minutes before my race time, the skies opened up. There was thunder. There was lightning. Half the melted polar ice caps dumped on us. Some other group was out racing and I felt really bad for them, as I watched them from inside. I probably snickered.

The rain stopped as quickly as it started. So, my race started with about 45 guys all lined up, maybe six deep. I got there late and rather than start at the back I took a chance and went to a far edge, with hopes of getting to the front. I got a good jump at the start. This course almost immediately funneled to a piece of singletrack that seemed about the width of a bike tire and then went up. Best analogy that I can come up with is having four lanes of traffic merge to one at full speed with no one willing to yield. The folks who squirt out in front have a good shot at a good result. Those who get pushed to the back have to work much harder. I expected that folks would quickly squeeze to one or two abreast but we didn’t. Instead, it was about four abreast. So, I growled loudly, ate some elbows, possibly a bit of someone’s helmet, and held my spot. We did this for the first quick two turns and then hit a punchy nasty loose, muddy climb. It was carnage. The guy to the left of me and the guy in front of me spun out and both had to dismount. It was pure luck that I was able to find a line through them and keep pedaling (preview: I’m not so lucky at the start on Sunday’s race!). The result was about 15 guys still pedaling, with me near the back, all stretched out. The rest of the group was behind us squawking at each other like a bunch of geese.

We settled in a line and it didn’t take too long for me to realize that we were going really hard. The pace was fast and no one was slowing down. I worried that it was too hard for me. Still, I aggressively passed a couple guys and then felt great relief to slide in behind my number one target for the day. He had his regular team jersey on and his leg was marked to verify that we were in the same age group. Sweet, I thought, I’ll just hold his wheel and jump if he cracks or out sprint him at the end. I did this for a lap and a half. I recovered a bit. Then someone yelled to him: “Go Eric”. The guy I wanted was not named Eric. I panicked looked to the left, past the next turn and saw my guy leading the entire group, maybe 60 seconds ahead of me. I said a very naughty word. Out loud. I was not in a good spot. I was about at my max and pretty far back. Maybe 13th.

Now in the movies, the hero will find that deep well of strength and inspiration as the cheesy dramatic song (“Eye of the Danger Zone” or something) starts to play. He’ll think about his kidnapped daughter or dead coach or captured buddy, and stand up and go, the wind at his back. He’ll be brave and handsome and superhuman and win at the line with his fist pumping. His gorgeous costar will meet him and, as the song hits a crescendo, they’ll kiss.

Um. I am still waiting for my theme song to start playing.

Oh, and did I mention that it had rained earlier? And I snickered? Karma. It started absolutely pouring. I was afraid I was going to have to stop and swim. I focused and found my next target. Caught him. Next? Caught him too. Then, surprise of surprises, the top racer in my group was right ahead of me. Not my guy, but I wanted to beat him. He must have cracked and faded. We had one and one-half laps to go. Did my song play? What do you think? Still no song. I chased him. I got close. He stood up and beat me at the end.

I was soaked and covered in mud. The crowd was not surrounding me yelling my name. (Hell, they were all inside staying dry). I puckered but no kiss. At least the cooler of beer was there.

I finished 8th out of about 40+ starters and 5th in my group. Pretty good. I would have preferred the theme song finish though….