race report: Cycle-Smart International Day 1, Verge NECCS #9, 7. November 2009

My week leading up to NoHo was somewhat stressful. I was running on a sleep deficit and, as a result, found myself feeling uncharacteristically, genuinely whiny (most of the time, I'm just mock-whiny). LAME. It wasn't until Friday afternoon that the "OMG ! PSYCHED TO RACE! BRING ES!" feeling started to hit me. Unfortunately, this was still intermixed with "OMG! SO BUSY! AND SO MUCH STILL TO DO BEFORE I MUST WAKE UP AT 4:30AM TOMORROW!" Grah. I managed to get all the pre-race admin done, but, dude, some weeks I feel like I just need more hours in the day, and more freakin' sleep.

Aaaaaanyway. I had decided to drive to NoHo both days: carpooling back with Lodri on Saturday, carpooling both ways with Nancy on Sunday. So Saturday a.m. I was on my own. Sometimes a two-hour solo drive at the crack of dawn is actually what I need to get centered, so the journey to NoHo wasn't all that bad. Once I got there, it was, however, freaking COLD. I started setting up my stuff, decided to go with tights, and prerode. I practiced the start, but not full-bore (as the start was in reverse for the parade lap, and the rest of the race was actually running in the other direction, most riders warming up were going the opposite direction). I got in a lap or maybe two of the rest of the course. Then I pinned and did all of that garbage. Ahhh, yes, note my use of the word "garbage." Yes. At this point, mid-season ennui was catching up to me. This would be race number 18 of the year, and though I liked the course, I was starting to feel the length and weight of my season.

So, the start. Was front row but didn't get out as quickly as I'd have liked; fortunately, was able to drill it on the grass and get up into 13th or 12th or so. By the end of the parade lap or the beginning of the "real" first lap, I was beginning to regret my decision to wear tights, as they were heating the hell up. My frustration was only exacerbated when Richard Fries started calling out other chicks for wearing knee socks. "DAMMIT, I wish I were wearing my awesome socks right now," I thought to myself. And that wistful instance of passive vanity (yeah, it's bike racing, yeah, it happens, but still) pretty much sums up my level of motivation. I mean, it wasn't the worst race ever, from a mental perspective, but it certainly was not the best. One, I let Sally get by me as she drilled it through the sand pit. Two, BrittLee and I were battling it out as usual and this time she got by me. Three, I repeatedly got wicked bogged down in the sketchy corner after the cinder and Brett ultimately took that chance to get by me too (fortunately, I got her back later after she endo'd in the barriers).

On the bright side, I had some great efforts--for example, for the first lap or two, Tasha was right in my sights, and I did attack and counterattack quite a bit. But there were also points where I should have stuck to wheels harder, or attacked, and didn't or couldn't. I only finished 2:00 back from Frances... but on the downside, I finished 15 places back, in 16th. Yeah, the field was stacked; yeah, the dry, fast course didn't totally suit my abilities; yeah, I finished 11 places better than I did last year. Nonetheless, it was the first Verge race of the season in which I didn't meet my top 15 goal, and I was kind of pissed at myself for not drilling it more. "Tomorrow is another day," I kept telling myself. But I was soon to find out that, much like Rhett Butler, sometimes cyclocross frankly does not give a damn. TO BE CONTINUED...