San Dimas Race Report

There is little to report in terms of the racing I did last weekend, because I think I totaled about 41 minutes of actual race time.  I started getting “allergies” on Thursday, the day before the uphill time trial.  I don’t actually get allergies, which is why I put them in quotations, signifying that they weren’t actually allergies.  My teammate, Chris W, had been struggling with allergies all week, which we’re assuming was in fact a cold or at least allergies that turned into a cold.  If there’s anyone within a 100 mile radius of me that’s sick, I’m bound to pick up the bug.

So as my fake allergies worsened I drank more and more coffee and antihistamines to combat them.  By morning of the time trial I was feeling pretty bad, but after a hard warm up and a strong jolt of caffeine, I pumped out a decent time to earn 67th out of 150 starters, which wasn’t too bad and was actually an improvement on the last two times I’ve done this course, which for 2012 included even more uphill than in the past.

A torrential storm cleansed the nasty brown smog from the air for Saturday’s circuit race.  After a hearty breakfast of sausage, we dressed for a cold, rainy 12 laps of misery.  I pumped up my confidence as I sat safely cocooned in the warmth of the team’s new Sprinter van, marveling at how awesome I’d be that day and what I’d say for my post-race victory quotes.  I pictured the victory salute: Gorilla Chest Thumps.  I’d woken up that morning feeling worse than the day before, but still hadn’t admitted to myself that I was sick.  It was still just “allergies” from the smog or something.  The rain hammered down hard outside in reality.

Reving high from two liters of coffee, I was amped about the rain, the hard race, the terrible conditions that would crack everyone else (I do better in terrible weather conditions–just like everyone else does too).  I was going to smash this race to bits and there wasn’t a god damn thing that could stop me.  Once the gun went off I immediately felt like stopping.  I began losing positions within the first hundred meters.   Within one kilometer I knew I was in for a wake up call.  How had I been so capable of lying to myself and how I really felt?  My mind had completely ignored what my body had been telling it.  Win? HA!  I’d be lucky to finish.  I was off the back within one lap.  I did one more lap out of frustration then retreated back to the van with Chris, who had also been dropped.

Dan met us an hour later, also sick and also dropped.

Jesse was our top finisher, earning 19th.  He, along with Colin and Gabe, ended up getting sick over the next few days and it’s now the night before Redlands.  It’s looking fairly grim, though I am feeling better each day.  I’m hoping to survive each day and help my non-sick teammates do the best they can do.  Getting sick before big races sucks, but it always happens at some point in the year for me.  There’s nothing I can do to fix it this week.  Just a pile of shit luck.  That’s all I have to say about that and I’m not in the mood for any jokes right meow.

 

 

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