Ouchy time - Pain and Suffer'n race report

Not wishing to sound like a whinny, cardigan-wearing, sissy but this race really (really) hurt. The course was a significant challenge – lots of climbing, 4 sets of barriers, deep, slippery gravel, and a long, long run-up. Combined, this layout pushed the boundaries of decent racing and collapsed everything down to a primeval battle for survival, at least it did for me. By about half way through I had ceased meaningful racing and was just hanging on for dear life.

After competing as a Clydesdale in cyclocross all last season, I decided to enter the Men’s C race and started alongside 24 other journeymen. After the whistle I was able to keep up with the lead group - for about a lap. Was feeling quite pleased about this. However, before I could reach around and pat myself on the back, the physiological debt demanded its first payment - angrily too. I had gone out too hard. From then on it was a battle to maximize recovery on the short downhill sections while trying to somehow overcome the uphill segments. By now some kind of racing survival instinct had kicked in – I had to do whatever it took to finish.
(photo courtesy of R. Rosko)

By the second lap I had lost contact with the lead group and was riding solo. I passed one racer the entire race - a poor chap who had obviously gone out waaaaaay too hard. He was done. Whimpering sounds could be heard as I passed. Later I was overtaken by someone who continued to steadily pull away. No response from me - I didn’t care. You KNOW that it is a complete and utter sufferfest when you don’t give one whit when someone passes you – it’s just a minor event in your tiny world of pain. Most tortuous was the gentle uphill section that followed the run-up. It was a couple of hundred meters of 2-4% of climbing. “That’s not so steep” you may snort. True, but it was bumpy and very difficult to maintain any sort of momentum and I was reduced to turgidly spinning the pedals in lowest gear, willing myself to the top. This lung scorching, quad-tastic battle for preservation continued for two more laps. The bell made me grin like a fool because it meant that the end was near. Spirits were lifted and extra energy was found to propel me through that last lap. Thankfully, no sprinting was required at the end and had the luxury of pedaling languidly across the line, quads all aquiver.
(photo courtesy of R. Rosko)

True to its name the event had extracted maximum pain and suffer’n. I suspect that a lot of other racers were similarly humbled. For me, it was akin to an episode of Man vs wild. Dropped into the Bald Peak wilderness with only one way out – and I had made it. The only thing missing was the chopper to whisk me back to civilization when survival was assured.