Mission Complete

The name "Sea Otter"sounds innocent enough, and perhaps too innocent to describe a bike race of this magnitude. It is the kick-off to a season of bike racing of all kinds. The biggest race on North American Soil. So big in fact, that many Euros come over to race. For many it is a spectacle, and an excuse to party, but ask any cyclist who has dared toe the line on Sunday afternoon to even utter the words "Sea Otter," and you will see their eyes glass over, and their upper lip start to quiver as they struggle to get the words out.

My week started out great. I arrived at the "Pink Palace" on Tuesday night after a drive down from work. The "Palace," as I have alluded to before, has been my Sea Otter home since I first attended in 2000. Every year, I have had a mix of friends come and stay with me and race or just jeer...I mean cheer for me. Two of my best friends, Mark and Seth have been there with me every year. This year was no exception. As this being my last year racing in the "Big Show", I was moved by their showing of friendship and support in such dreary conditions. No matter the weather, they were there for me. Thanks you guys, for being there and taking part while I was living a dream. You can stop ringing the cow bell just as soon as I cross the finish line in Schladming, Austria in September.

Wednesday was a prep day of sorts with the inevitable registration nightmare. I swear, if there is a way to screw up, race organizers will figure out how to. It's Wednesday afternoon, a day where most people are WORKING, and they have, I counted, 12 people there to register the amateur athletes whom don't start racing till Friday, and they have 3 people working the 1 line of oh...200 Pros there to start racing Thursday morning. I guess it was a great time to catch-up with a lot of folks I have not seen since US Nationals last September. In fact, I got most of my initial hellos out of the way while I waited...and waited...and waited. So I had that going for me. I finally got out on the brand new cross country course for a pre-ride. Two things came to mind...first, what an awesome course it is. It is so fun and challenging with all sorts of stuff to keep your mind in the game. and the second thought, "Oh my...this sucker is gonna be L-O-N-G." Thirty-eight miles is a long race distance. Typically on the circuit our races tend to run about two hours or so or about 24 miles give or take. To be on the throttle for three hours, "givin'-er" is enough to blow up those that attempt such a feat without ample preparation. Thankfully, this year, I have done my homework. But I still had three days of racing to get through before I can even think about the X-C.

On Thursday was the Super-Cross and as I reported previously, it was crazy to attempt to "Race" in such conditions, but the show must go on...and it did. One muddied memory from Thursday, while I was mentally struggling to keep my head in the game and not stopping to just sit down and laugh at myself, it occurred to me how fortunate I am to be here, in this moment, in the mud and everything, suffering like no other, living a dream. I may never get another lap. I may never have this moment again, but I have this moment, and this, I can assure you, I will never forget. (And the stains on my once white socks will always help remind me).Thursday night I am a bit on the sad side as I did not do as well as I had hoped. That and I was looking at two more days of racing in that mud pit before I can get out on the real XC course. My phone rings and it none other that Haven, Tyler and Deirdre, just calling to check in. They were up at Beaver Creek, CO at some ski race or something. So they could tell I was a bit bummed with my day. Each of them gave me their best wishes and told me to just have fun...and the rest will happen. As I hung up the phone, I started to realize what they were saying. I was getting caught up in the results and not enjoying the ride. I could tell as I was talking to Ty that he was a bit mad at me for being bummed. He would give anything to be able to race his bike, and so I changed my attitude right then and there. Enjoy the ride, for others are not as fortunate as I to have this opportunity.

Friday was the Time Trial, and I had a whole new attitude, and it worked. I had fun despite the mud, and my results showed it. A little redemption for Wee Man.

Saturday was bound to be fun despite the mud. Big crowds for the "Hurricane of PAIN" (short track) always make me kick it up a notch. I love the event because I really get amped up with the crowds being inches from you, yelling at the top of their lungs for you. That, and Marla gave me a Red Bull right before I left for the start. I managed to start in the back row of 50 and after the first 100 meters and my ninja skills, I moved up to around 7th or so. I held on to that position give or take a few spots due to, shall we say, the humid dirt sections. It was carnage everywhere, and I managed to avoid it all except on one lap where I again rode into the hole that swallowed my bike on day one. I wrestled my bike out of the hole that now reached to China and managed to pass the two guys that passed me while I took my second mud nap of the weekend. Seth counted 9th place as I finished. Results are still not up on the website. I think the computer fell into that very same hole.

When I woke on Sunday, my body was telling me that I had been abusing it for three too many days. This is to be expected, but my back was a concern. I have had this nagging back problem since I broke it way back in the ski racing days. Well, it just happened to be aggravated by my super puddle jumping, bike extracting, ninja numbchuck skills that I have displayed in previous days. I worked on the two muscles that tend to be the root of the problem, my QL and my Psoas, basically, my hip flexor and my lower back on the right side. They were totally blown out. When this happens, it is difficult to produce any power on the right side, placing the onus on the left...which fatigues quickly, and then it is like someone sticking a knife in my lower back. By the start of the 3 hour tour, I am feeling good, but not great.

Photo Courtesy of Paul McKenzie-Clif Bar

Despite my back thing, I have an awesome start. I get into a good position in the field before we hit the dirt, which is important because it makes passing much more difficult. Rolling onto the dirt (not mud) I am sitting about 25th or so. I manage to hold this (my best to date) for a good 30 minutes or so...but then...it hits me. My back is not responding well. I fought for another ten minutes with a machete stuck in my back and I can't take the pain any longer. I decide to back off the throttle and into survival mode. My "race" is over. Now I just want to finish and get some good training in. I managed to lose my waterbottle on a bumpy section, so now, my back is killing me and I start to dehydrate. Great! and did I mention...it's now RAINING? I bury my pain somewhere in the back of my head and concentrate on just getting through the race. Every time I had to get off the bike to run through yet another mud bog, the pain would come back to the front of my consciousness. I find it most helpful to think of a motivational song to concentrate on. Today it was "Folsom Prison Blues," by Johnny Cash that got me through. By the second lap, my itch to ride my bike had been thoroughly scratched. I had lost yet another waterbottle, and my blood resembled the mud more that the oxygen rich fluid that flowed merely hours before. Dehydration was evident now, as my body was refusing to work hard at all. I had Johnny Cash rocking the pain away, and thoughts drifted to memories of a friend to inspire me to reach the finish. I wanted it to end, but not before I crossed that finish line for my final time. Despite my balancing on the edge of implosion, I did manage to reel in a couple of people before the finish, which was a good indication of what I am capable of if I was healthy. I can't wait to race again...just give me a few days to clean up and rest.

Photo Courtesy of Paul McKenzie-Clif Bar

It wasn't pretty, and it did not go as planned (it never does), but I managed to pull off my final Sea Otter. Four days of slogging in the mud and sand will go down as my most memorable Sea Otter and perhaps my toughest. It is something that I will always look back on and recall what it took to reach the finish, what it really means to believe in what you do, how you do it and most of all, who you do it with.

You know who you are. Thanks for inspiring me to go the distance.

"Success is often persevering when others have packed it up and gone home"

Enjoy the ride.