|
An Ironmaster Story
by Sami Fournier |
What a day what a race! Ride through a rain shower to
a rushed start, road climb, lead pack goes bye bye,
and I draft on whoever is there. It's a hot dry day.
We turn.
Rocks of all sizes make up the first singletrack
climb-I get passed hard by one woman who says, "Slow
like a snail, just staying on my bike today." But
she's fast. I stay spinning-can't ride it all---sweat
in my eyes blurs everything.
Don't buy the false promise of some downhill relief.
Don't shift too soon, you'll be clamoring and bounding
upward again eventually--from clean rock to dirty rock
no matter what. Jen passes me, looking strong, I catch
a stick in the eye in a muddy depression, and suddenly
my contact is in my hand. Off come gloves, the eye is
restored. I tear up and tear off.
I hear April is near, and we are on fireroad. "No
drafting today," she says-I don't heed. "Come on! Grab
my wheel! Got it?" We turn back into the woods, hit a
whooshing fast rock downhill, dropping people way
behind us, doing what we do for fun. I catch sight of
an escaped Gatorade bottle as we start to climb. I
need it. Bad. I stop and drink the potent nectar. Its
intense orangeness gets me going up. April is gone.
I stop on a failed attempt to climb a boulder and
decide to stand still and open a gu. And to stretch
the back pain away. Beth comes up and says, "Hey, what
are you doing?" and I say, "Having a picnic!" She is
kind, asking how I am, and riding with me, confident
on the rocks---we are in a constant tangle of
root/rock/dirt/log/mud. I follow her. The trail opens
into a gaping climb. I don't know how long. I flag.
I see a long line of cyclists, over each rise they get
more strung out. Beth's in the distance, but she's
leaving. I must climb slow and steady and
conserve---many miles to go. I climb, drink, breathe,
get my body in a rhythm and probably burn fat, a
great, powerful fuel. I get passed by a woman spinning
like mad. As she goes away from me--grassy hill,
neverending--I try to match her cadence. There are no
less than seven rises, so I stop imagining the end is
near, and then it is. We are high on a mountain, and I
pass Beth at the waterstop. She doesn't give chase. I
feel elated. It's the caffeine from the power gel. I
feel strong, ride rocks. I've never beaten Beth.
Then---cramp! Pain like legs being damaged. The skin's
not broken (I didn't crash, even when the tree grabbed
my bar) but I stopped and now the muscles are
squeezing in paralyzed protest. I ride through it,
'cause someone said to.
Theresa appears behind, I greet her and let her go by.
Then wheee!!! A great tight section of little smooth
downhill berms in pines and joy of flying. Like
rolling naturally, free, in pine smells. I make time
on Theresa. She's strong, I cramp more and start to
cry out aloud in angry pain, cursing and yelling.
I hit a fire road, and there's an old guy in a truck.
"Water please?" No, but he's got coke, and that will
have to do. Theresa takes off as I pour coke into the
found bottle. Drink the sticky, fizz and the legs hurt
even more! I'm out of liquid completely, except now my
mouth is hot, sweet, AND parched, and my cramps don't
abate. They hit my hamstrings, quads, feet, calves and
fingers. Brian P. is behind me now. "I haven't dabbed
once," he quips and I say, "Yeah, you must be fast to
catch me," also a joke. He has no water, but he passes
off a bottle of Gatorade, and I am restored.
I'm happy when Julie catches me-I am. The rocks start
to grow until they are reaching above our heads and we
are meandering atop 10 foot boulders. She has a good
line. I follow, use her power to pull me. Suddenly,
she jumps aside, "I'm a wuss," she says, and lets me
pass on my forte-a super-steep downhill. I ride past
four stalled people, put my saddle under my chin and
catch Theresa. Then Julie joins us, saying "Madwoman
downhilling, girl." We are three in the climb, we pass
the lead around, until Julie takes it.
Suddenly the trail opens wide, and I see a move I just
must make, cramps be damned. I tell my legs they are
full of fluid, pretend they are juicy with power and
flowing energy and H2O. I go after Theresa the roadie,
who takes my sprint challenge but I win the position,
my pumping, short, muscled legs put her away, somehow.
I catch Julie and we fly.
I think some other woman is in the picture. She's
small and wiry and I pay her no mind-she gets us both.
She's in sport? Julie is to be my 24 hours of Snowshoe
teammate. I don't want to pass her, I tell her. Want
her to pull me home. I believe in my heart she is
stronger than I.
And pull she does, up and down, then the climb home,
we're told, is only three more miles. My back is
screaming, but this is doable. I cramp more and moan
and lose Julie---she climbs so strong. Then I say to
myself, hey. Let's go. I'm not here to let her beat
me. We are probably fighting for 11 and 12th place,
but I'm going down fighting. And then there's the
caffeine. I thought I was a goddess for a second.
So I kick it in. Eighth or ninth wind. She doesn't
hold me. I'm getting away. Boy but it hurts---I get
out of the saddle to relieve the pain in my back. At
the top of the climb, the guy points down into a pit
of smallish babyheads and says, "Three-hundred yards!"
I roll in and she's behind me, but I'm in her way. I'm
hearing her just on my wheel, and I'm hearing her
name, 'cause everyone is cheering 'cause she's chasing
me and it was close, but I boxed her out and felt bad
so I apologized at the finish line and people cheered
and We clasped hands. Awesome Awesome day.
Question: was that you, McCracken, who gave me water
and said cleatgrrl's in eighth? Thanks!