Ahh, Gloucester, the place where cross started. For me at
least. Last year, I stood in the pouring rain watching people attempt a crazy off-camber
turn on a hill of mud. This year, the course was comparatively drier, but shrouded
in a dense fog. Visibility was probably 50-100 feet – fine for racers, but not
so much for spectators. The fog would burn off by race-start, but not before I
got a couple practice laps in.
This course was fun – much more interesting than the
Midnight Ride. Something for everyone here. I had the same problems as on previous
courses, in particular tenuous turning and poor confidence on loose dirt and
gravel. I almost took a bad spill at high speed on a long section of gravel –
somehow I stayed up, but not before my heart almost escaped my throat!
One thing I did practice and learn during my practice rides
was how to ride in sand! Awesome! I put all my weight on my rear wheel and
simply used my front wheel as a rudder! I had heard people talk about this, and
finally it clicked for me. The sand section was straight, and I was confident I
could reproduce it during the race.
My first half lap was pretty good. I battled pretty well
from the line and was probably about mid pack when a nasty collision ahead
threatened taking us all out. I stayed up and continued on. The course was
thick with people and I managed to hold my own in traffic, all the way, in
fact, until about 2/3 through the first lap. A guy in front of me took a spill
in the sand, and down I went. I hopped back up, shouldered my bike through it,
but the damage was done, many riders who I had passed whizzed past me, out of
breath and momentarily demoralized.
The second lap wasn’t much better. A heckler (or a helper)
tried to warn me about a patch of gravel, which I already knew about. For some
reason, I ate it right there. Again, people whizzed past as I got up and
remounted. I didn’t realize until my next lap that my knee was bleeding down my
leg. Awesome!
But the third lap was the worst. About the same point I fell
on the gravel, I realized I had a flat tire. Recalling my buddy at Midnight
Ride, I grabbed my bike and started running. I knew I had a long way to go.
Along the way, riders past me and cheered me on. That felt great. One guy said
he had done the same thing (I remember passing him earlier). “Good on you!”
said another. Racers were really supportive. Running sucked, but I made it to
the pit and got a replacement wheel. A few hundred meters later, I realized the
mechanic didn't fasten my rear brake. Great work, thanks man.
Suffice to say, I got lapped again. I was beat and ended up
doing only four of five laps, and I finished at the rear. Not last, and in
front of the guys that DNF’d. I hope they were ok, but if they were, they
should have kept going!
I was also pretty stoked - I did manage to ride the sand in
my other laps, and am looking forward to trying some turns in it.
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