Here's my buddy Zach White, after winning the expert level Super D race. We teased him mercilessly beforehand about his superhero skinsuit, but once someone wins wearing that, you shut up. :)
The weekend was fun in that weird way that running from one thing to another and not really sleeping can be kind of fun. I drove to Breck on Friday, and my car broke down two miles shy of the Eisenhower Tunnel. Lovely! So I called AAA and got towed to Silverthorne, where the tow truck driver actually helped me out, and then I limped on to Breck. (Got there four hours after leaving Boulder.) Rob joined me (in his own car) and we hit the town, but it took us forever to get any dinner. We went to bed late and then I got up at the ass-crack of dawn to teach my clinic. It went very well and the women were all cool, but one of them was light-years ahead of the others. When we get a skill-split like that, we usually call in another instructor, and previously my coworker Dave had said he was available. But come Saturday afternoon, when I realized I had a problem, he was suddenly too busy to help me out. So I spent a stressful afternoon trying to keep that one woman challenged while not scaring the pants off the other girls. Luckily it mostly worked, because their feedback forms gave me “stunning reviews,” my boss said. But that one woman did complain a bit that she felt she warranted some more advanced coaching -- and she really did. I felt bad.
So anyway. When the clinic finally wrapped up, I dragged my dehydrated, exhausted self into Dave’s loaner car and drove 2 1/2 hours to Snowmass. Found Rob (who had driven out that morning) and our friend Zach at the hotel, scarfed some pasta, and fell asleep while watching Saturday Night Fever. Had weird dreams with a soundtrack of “I’m gonna put on... My my my my my boogie shoes.”
Got up at the ass crack again, feeling like I’d been hit by a truck, and I hadn’t even done the freakin’ race yet. Dragging ass, I went to the venue and tried to warm up. I was astounded to find myself on the start line at a NORBA National Championship race with only FIVE other women. Lame!! What the hell?? I paid $50 to race five other girls? Well, regardless of the number of competitors, I certainly got my money’s worth anyway. That has to be the hardest race I’ve ever done. We experts rode the same distance as the pros: 19 miles with 7000 feet of climbing. OUCH!! My legs came actually around, but the aerobic system was just too blown out. It took everything I had just to finish. But I kept plugging away, partly because I had no idea where the hell I WAS out there, and partly because the trails were so gorgeous and fun and technical that I felt compelled to ride them. But sadly, I got passed by lots of really old chicks, and came in last. SIGH. It’s a good thing my ego isn’t hung up on this stuff. It’s hilarious that this situation still put me in 5th place (one women quit), and at a NORBA, that puts you on the podium. I took home this huge tacky medal for being marginally faster than the melting of the polar ice cap.
Then, I STILL had the Super D race to do. I changed into some clean clothes and we three got on the lift. The course was quite challenging, and I found in my second practice run that I was already checking out mentally and making stupid mistakes. My second sense was buzzing, telling me this was a dumb idea. I wisely went back to the car, got out of my chamois and settled at the finish line with a Gatorade. (Ding! There went another 40 bucks – ugh! Why do these race promoters put these races on the SAME DAY?? What about MY needs? But hey, it’s better than a broken collarbone.) Zach ripped in a win, and Rob took 6th. After taking Zach’s picture on the podium, I loaded up the car and dragged ass all the way back to Breck. Slept on Dave’s couch, then drove to Boulder with an hour to spare before work Monday morning.
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