204: howling at the moon (sha-la-la)

Saturday morning, I was licking my lips as the course as mercer cup was laid out before me. The loop had been saturated with rains late in the week, and had become a muddy, freaking mess. These are conditions where old fat guys, perhaps not a fit as their younger rivals, can use skill, experience and guile learned over years, to get ahead. The race started in a flurry, and as we came off the road and worked our way up the once grassy now mucky bog, I found myself on the third wheel. Today was going to be a big day for me.

Then as I shifted to an easier gear and disaster happened. My chain skipped over the top ring and wedged itself between the cassette and the spokes. In a matter of seconds I went from 3rd place, to dead last. As I stood on the side for the track, with my foot on my chainstay, and both hands on the chain pulling as hard as I could, after the previous weekends disaster, only one thought entered my head:

"New Jersey fucking hates me."

I picked up my bike ran a bit, then thought to take the wheel out of the drop outs, and got riding again. I was at least a minute down on last place, but you know, I love the muck and mire, and I just let it all hang out there. Truth is I felt great, I had really good legs, and in the end my result 27th, clearly my worst all year, yet I felt really satisfied with my effort, and my ride. Tom Mc (papa smurf) came over to me after the race, and he very rarely comments on my races, he told me I had a very good ride. That really kinda made my day. This despite realizing that:

"New Jersey fucking hates me."

Sunday the loop was shortened, but basically covered the same ground as Saturday. Torrential down pours overnight would result in an even nastier course. Before the race I was talking to Zack, and I commented, that if I can keep from breaking my bikes, I think I have a good ride.

The race took off well for me as I was aggressive to get to the front. Second lap I ran into some trouble as I crashed coming off the fly over losing a couple of spot and more importantly precious momentum. Later in the lap, I was following a sweet line of Mike's and step stake went into my front wheel and got pretty jammed up. My only though as I tried to the broken stake out of my front wheel without destroying it was:

"New Jersey fucking hates me."

It took me a couple of seconds to get it out and I found myself at the back of a little group. Final time through the pit, to got another clean bike and passed to Chad and another dude before the final flyover and push the line. I got enough of a gap to sneak back into the top 10, finishing 9th.

I am pretty happy with that ride.

Although I was really satisfied with my riding, I was even more impressed with the hustle, and intensity all of the DCCoD and C3 riders put into working the pits this weekend. If you have never worked pit in a muddy race, where your teammates/brothers/sisters are taking a bike every half lap, and you are racing to get them washed and ready, they you really haven't fully experienced cross.

I was proud of our coalition's efforts, and intensity. Save for one F-up with disco it went very well. Props to Gunnar B, Alyssa, Sam and Jake who pulled through like they were founding members of the Coalition.

As Monkey and I exited the NJ turnpike and started over the Delaware Memorial Bridge, returning to the mother land that is northern Delawre, I took one last look back at the state of my demise. I'm not certain but I'm pretty sure going north I saw a sign that said:

"WELCOME TO NEW JERSEY: THE STATE THAT HATES FATMARC."

thanks for reading.

respect.

fatmarc

Thanks to Dennis and Anthony for some shots, the blurry ones are from my own camera.

PS: Bad Andy and Bad Kat were outstanding roommates for the weekend.