The details: It’s a 7 mile course with 800 feet of climbing per lap. We do four laps. It’s got a nasty long rocky, rooty climb, the kind I struggle on. Oh, I’ve always struggled on this course.

Race starts. Buddy at the line gets slammed into me. My front tire goes perpendicular to the trail. I go into the grass and stop. I have to steady myself and restart. I’m dead last 30 seconds after the start. Signs of things to come? Yes

Despite the horrible start, I decided to follow my strategy of really pressing it on the first climb. Unfortunately, I wanted to be near the front, now, I'm trying to just get back into the mix. Fortunately, the race starts with a good climb. If I'm good at anything, it's a sustained climb. I push it real hard and get into the front group of ten or so as the course flattens out. I even slingshot past some of the top guys.

The course flattens out. I need to keep the pace. No legs. I can usually push a bigger gear than this. Where are my legs? And my heart rate is really high. What the…? I have to ratchet it down. I'm getting passed. This is not going well. I have to be near the front or I won't even sniff the podium.

Ok, here's the nasty climb. "Go!" I tell myself. Pain. "I said GO!" Pain. No legs. Help me. Should I quit? I wanna quit. More guys are passing me. He’s passing me? Him? I always beat him.

I'm in big trouble. I've cracked in the first lap. Insert picture of nuclear cloud here.

Just keep spinning I say. So I spin.

What the heck? There's my buddy Jordan on the side of the trail. He's fixing his bike. "I'm out" he says as I pass him. "Mechanical". That sucks. Jordan is out. Maybe I should just end it too after this first lap, I think. Besides, I have three more laps to go.

Finally, the downhill. I relax a bit. I finally can pedal a little harder. I make it through the start/finish. I've got to do this three more times. Crap. I'm in trouble.

There are the guys in front of me that I always beat. Well in front of me. I suck today, worse than anytime all year. Let's see if I can increase the tempo. Ok, better. Getting closer. Time for the big climb. I hate this climb. Oh, hey, there's Jordan. "Grab my wheel" he says, "I'll pull you up." Sweet! I'm bound to go faster with his setting the pace.

He sets the pace. I can't keep it. He looks back. "Come on" he says. I stand up on the pedals. Did I mention that I'm hurting? We do this for the entire climb. He goes, slowly increases the pace to a point where I struggle and then we try and settle in. He's a saint for doing this. I just wish I could take full advantage of it by going faster. Nothing.

We roll down the big downhill section then through the flats and rollers. We catch a few of the guys that I always beat. We pass them. Fast. I still got nothing on the punchy climbs so they hang pretty close.

We make it through the start finish again. I kinda expected him to pull out there, but he keeps pulling. Jordan is my hero. We cruise up the first hill, again yo-yo-ing a bit with my lack of power. We roll through the flats and hit that nasty climb again. He pulls off. His mechanical problem is back. He says he'll catch up. I'm on my own again. 1 1/2 laps to go, I tell myself. I see a couple guys ahead that I need to beat. I try and settle in. Damn, I'm going slow. I refuse, however, to go to my granny gear in the front. I know if I do that I'll just spin and have no chance of pushing any kind of pace.

I make it to the top. Thunder, lightning, rain, hail. Wonderful, I think. The downhill section is filled with roots, which, when wet are treacherous as heck. So, rather than going over them, as I usually do, I have to pick my way through them. Slowly. This race is a disaster I think.

I make it through the muddy sections and see three guys, including two that I have to beat, ahead of me. I can tell that they are suffering too.

Side note: I really learned this year that it's really hard to really crank up any kind of "makeup" speed in the second half of a race. Everyone is tired, and for the most part, going at their chosen pace. Sure, you can go faster, but a 30 second gap is really hard to make up if you are going roughly the same speed as the person you are chasing. Kinda obvious, I know, but again and again I passed people later in a race and 99% of the time they won't catch me if I can put 15+ seconds on them. I’ve gotten a bunch of places in the standings by passing people in the second half of the race.

So, I decided that I had to find a place and hit these three real hard and real fast. I didn't want to. Fortunately, I knew the course real well. I knew that if I hit them late in the third lap that I could keep a high pace through the start/finish and then climb faster than them on the first climb. I got climbing skills. And some bowstaff skills. So, I got behind them and at a punchy little climb, I just went. Hard. Really hard. I passed all three really, really fast. (Kinda like I was getting passed earlier). I put it into the big ring and just pushed as hard a tempo as I could for the next 1/2 mile or so through the start/finish. The course looped back and I could see them at least 40 seconds back. Finally, one success.

I settled in for the final lap. It was still pouring and I had mud everywhere. I ate everything I had left. I drank two cups of water at the aid station and half my waterbottle. I knew that I needed to avoid cramps and crashes and I could finish the race.

I only saw guys in younger age groups who were spent. I passed them. I didn't see any of my competitors for the final lap.

The last lap was tough, but I knew I was almost done. I cruised in and rode past the group of finishers who gather to tell their stories. I was wet, I was really tired. And, I was pretty disappointed and probably a bit embarrassed. I wanted to do well at this race and didn't.

My friends met me and were great. Some nice congratulations and atta boys helped a little. I bummed a beer, got cleaned up, and made my way back to the start area. Time to have a sliver of humble pie. Seriously, the guys I race with are great. Everyone is cool and knows that they will have a bad day sometime. And, there’s something really genuine about most mountain bikers that I really like.

Oh, 9th out of 25. Respectable, I guess

Epilogue
Disappointed is the right word. I can't explain what happened, so I couldn't be mad at myself, or the conditions, or other racers. At the same time, I really prepared for this race, so I didn't find any consolation in finishing. Finishing wasn't good enough.

I was as tired as I've been all year that Sunday. I suspect that the back-to-back races were part of the problem. I am not a "power rider", so putting out that much effort in the Short Track race on Saturday may have had a big effect on Sunday.

I got back on the bike and spun a bit on Tuesday. Today, Wednesday, I’m going to do a long fun ride with the fellas. That will cure my ills, I’m sure.