PICX and Bubba #3

Sometimes it is good to race pissed-off.

Maggie and I decided to bail on Columbia for the homecoming madness this weekend and head to St Louis. I had been planning on racing all the bubba races, so had sunday's race number 3 on the schedule. But, last weekend I felt great on day 2 of racing so decided to head to Alton for the Pride Inc Cross race on Saturday. Maggie was also keen to race both days as she's just recently learned to dis-mount/mount her bike on the fly.

The Pride race was at a beautiful park that was set up pretty close to perfect for a cross race. Honestly, it would have been hard to set up the course poorly in such a nice park. The turnout for the A race was a meager:


But, it was still a chance to race, plus there was a perfect playground for Cassidy right next to the race course. The race went well. I sprinted off the line, got in front and stayed there for the rest of the relatively shortish race.



Sunday was bubba number 3. We got there super early to pre-ride and for Maggie to get a warm-up for her noon race (my race was at 3). After a lap of pre-riding my motivation plummeted as the course was bumpy with lots of straight-aways (my absolute weakness last year). The few things I can bank on, in terms of strengths, are barriers and hills. Turns are sometimes good, but I seem to fall a lot this year...so are a definite double edge sword.

After a little nap in the car at around 1:45, I got suited up and started spinning around. My legs felt very stiff and sore. Somehow, I convinced myself to just ignore them and went to the line without many expectations.

The race wasn't as fast as I expected and I felt good in the lead group...knowing that the inevitable attack from Josh would be coming at some point. When it did, I warned my break-mates Jay and Jeff...oh man, I just lost my train of thought (we're watching this show on the food network where they're talking about bacon wrapped lambchops). Anyway, at some point after Josh joined the group, I attacked on the only thing resembling a hill on the course.

I held the lead for most of the lap, until a turn where, I hit a pothole that I knew was there and endoed over my bike, jamming my wrist and knee/shin. I layeded on the ground, stunned and in some serious pain, I thought I broke a bone. But, next thing I knew Josh was yelling at me to get up and catch back on.

As a BoCoMo resident, I'm privileged to know the positive competitive camaraderie that exists at all levels of Columbia cycling. Anyway, I couldn't have caught back on if Josh didn't yell and slow down for me. Jay and Jeff also slowed, but Josh pulled my sorry-butt back. I rode for awhile, unsure if my proximal fibula was broke or not. All I could think about was Aldon Smith and holding Josh's wheel.

At some point Josh and I broke away. The pace was high and we both attacked a few times, although I decided to hold off on the barriers until the last lap. I guess I stopped thinking about whether or not it was the right thing to do to attack the guy that lent a hand when I was face down in the muck. Whether that was the right thing to do or not, I layed it down coming through the barriers with 1/4 of a lap left, then got a gap and came across the line winning my first bubba race.

Today I woke up with my leg hurting enough to get an xray. Nothing is broken, but I've got mixed feelings about the racing and racing pissed-off.