049: let the wild rumpus start!

Friday morning Monkey and I took the dogs to the vet for their annual checkup.
Riding in the car with our dogs is such joy.

Friday afternoon we taped Granogue and our weekend guests arrived.
Mayhew, Soupie and Tom. A great group of guests who were very helpful and made the weekend fun.

Unless you have been living under a stone, Granogue/Wiss the Queen of the MAC, in my opinion the best complete cross weekend in the Mid Atlantic, was last weekend. It was muddy as hell.

Tom sent out a nice message to the DCCoD and C3 folks who really pulled through and made this weekend happen.

I won’t be able to nail Tom’s flavor, but here is my take. We put on the highest quality event, in the worst possible conditions and it went smoothly. We have a lot of folks show up in shit weather and work their asses off to make this happen. This isn’t a club race, it’s a community race, no one really has an obligation to make it happen, other than our love for cross. Word.

Thanks to everyone who came out to race. Thanks to everyone who worked their asses off. Thanks to Keith Ely, who I was a total douche to on Wednesday before the race, but he was the guy making sure the slip and slide hillside stayed taped as, no exaggeration, hundreds of folks bailed through the tape, and he fixed it up every time. And he didn’t even race.

Monkey is the prize czar for our races now. She makes sure when results are done, we hand out the prizes as quickly as we possibly can. She commented at our MTB races, folks want their prizes as quick as possible, and then hit the road.

At the cross race, she said it much harder to give the stuff out. Frankly, the racers were much more likely to go get a beer, and then go out and cheer for folks on the course. Later they’d show up and check on their prize hours later. That’s a statement about the strength of our community.

Okay personal highlight for me. We are staging the 2/3/4 master men. Two guys from the cat four race come racing down the road towards the locked and loaded masters. Under a minute to go until the gun. I yell to the group, “on the count of three, give me a OUT OF TE ROAD DUMB ASS” and sure enough on the count of three the entire master 2/3/4 class yells, “OUT OF THE ROAD DUMB ASS” It was a feel the love moment for me.

You may have noticed in the photos today, that I was not wearing my team issue blue and white helmet. Friends of fatmarc.com will remember that I lost that helmet at the Gloucester races a few weeks ago. I have ordered another helmet, but it hasn’t come in yet. My old helmet is black, and goes well with my kit, but whilst riding the course Wednesday night, I crashed rather abruptly and cracked it. So, well with no other helmet in my possession, the pink leopard was brought from the bullpen, and out of retirement. I thought Auer’s eyes were going to pop out of his head when he saw it, but he laughed when I told him the story. He reminded me that he offered to get me a pink helmet when I first joined the team. Riding with a pink helmet you don’t really think about it, but it was the first time in over 3 years that someone cheered for me calling me, “go pink helmet guy” or go “pinky” that was pretty funny.

Maybe the cutest picture ever: Kelly and Haley.

Granogue Race.
Went well for me. Started in the 4th row of a big field. Pushed hard early to get as far to the front as I could . I love racing in the mud. It’s hard, it’s when all those years of experience and practice pay off. I have said that racing cross is an art form, it’s a craft, and I pride myself in being an artisan of this sport. Mud races reward the prepared, the experienced, and the technically sound. I got at least two out of those three. I was taking a fresh bike each lap, thanks to my father in law and monkey for pitting for me. Fast Forward to the last lap: Fergie rolls by me on the road. I’m kind of on the ropes, but I’m staying close. Up the run up I can nip him a little, we start in to the downhill, and as I come around the big bush off the backside (he said big bush), Fergie is right there. I’d find out later that he had crashed. We head into the first 180, he takes my line, I go for broke and dive inside hoping I can stick it.
I do.
I get a little momentum gap of 10 feet. Knowing Fergie was hot on my heels kept me honest to the line I am really focused on keeping it clean. He’s right there but I held him off.

I heart Elkton.
2:30 am. Saturday night Diane and I hear a banging. We creep over to bedroom window and look out our backyard into the neighborhood behind ours. “I KNOW SHE’S IN THERE JOHN!!” we hear a man yell as he pounds on the front door. A women replies, “DON’T HURT HIM!!” More banging on the door, lights flashing. A second man yells out of the house. “I’m calling the cops!!” Diane and I squat down watching. “I think we are going to get our own private version of cops here.” I whisper to Diane. “if you hear shots get down.” I continue kinda seriously. Oh the joys of living in Elkton.

Wiss Cross
Started in the 3rd row, my best starting spot this year, and charged to the front following Fergie and Dream Weaver. I might have over-started a little but figured what the hell, ride it out. I spent the middle laps hiding on wheels, and trying to stay smooth. At the beginning of the last lap I had a nice little gap back to Piccolo and a kid in a “huplike” kit. Then I laid it down in on one of the 180’s, letting my 2 chasers inch closer to me.
I admit, I felt defeated.
I focus on my driving. (that was for you Rotten) We hit the spiral of doom, and I hit the deck again. This time when I get up, my chasers are on my wheel. “I’m screwed I say to myself” The “huplike” kit dude passes me, I charge up the run up, and get back to the front.

We hit the pavement, and I can’t see Piccolo behind the “huplike” kit guy. “Hupkit guy” goes, I jump on his wheel, Piccolo is still there. I jump way too early, I think I have the gap, I let up maybe 10 feet before the line, which to be honest I can’t see because I am certain I am bleeding out my eyes. Joe slips in beside me and takes it. I take 2nd in a 3 up sprint. Man, I fucked up that last lap, badly.
Immediately following the race I admit I was destroyed. I didn’t leave anything in the tank, I was hyperventilating a little. I was really dizzy and struggling to breath. Tom calmed me down and gave me beer.

Beer fixes everything sometimes.

As I started to come out of oxygen debt, Colt came over and interviewed Tom and I for his awesome page cyclingdirt.com. See it here.

What a great weekend. I am destroyed.

Thanks to everyone that came out.

Pictures from Mike Kirk, Anthony, and Dennisbike.

respect
fatmarc
“ inside of all of us there is a Wild Thing..."