Figured since work is slow I would breathe some life into ye ole blog..
Paris Ancaster.. Where do I begin... The douche that said he was me at the restaurant to steal my table the night before? The Quality Inn Brantford that I am sure was a prison in a previous life? Concrete ceilings?? Really?? Well those are minor details. On to the race.
The Quality Inn prison breakfast was probably worse than the previously served prison food so I didnt really eat much. Half an english muffin and a pre-race hammer gel I found in my bag. Which was fine. For some reason I wasnt feeling all that well when I woke up. Arrived around 9am when right on que it started raining. Little sprinkles at first, little more.. Little more.. Soon it was a very heavy rain. I didnt drive 4 hours to sit in the car though, right? I was out warming up when the starting chute filled up so I was toward the back of the first wave. Luckily I got a good start up the right side of the parking area and dirt road so I was ok going into the rail trail. I slowly worked my way through the crowd and soon I am by myself. I see a big group ahead and get in the drops and close the gap down. I get to the embankment and everyone is running. It was a mess but faster to run than ride. Back on the bike things were going good. I see Jodi taking pictures around mile 8 where we hit the first section of "singletrack" The mud is at least ankle deep, full of leaves and as sticky as a mofo. I make it through but my bike must now weigh 50 pounds but I am back on the road and feeling good. Second of singletrack is where it got interesting. A guy goes down in the mud in front of me and I am forced to get off and run.. But my wheels wont turn!!! I tried to pick it up and sholder it but it was so heavy! I clean the mud out, run along but it clogged up again. Before I remount I clean the mud out AGAIN so my wheels will turn. Back on the road again. I see a group ahead and give it all I have to make contact since the group I was with was too slow. Nobody came across with me so I was on my own. I finally make contact after 5 minutes or so when PFFFFFFFFFFF.. Flat friggin tire.. So pissed. Think I was 16 miles in. I pull off into the manure field, get the new tube in, but when I use my inflator it instantly freezes to my hand! I had taken my gloves off since I couldnt hold anything with my soaked gloves.. WTF, After realizing my hot breath wasnt going to free it anytime soon, I spray it with a half bottle of cytomax. If finally comes off but it hurts like a bitch. Oh well. Wheel on, back on the road, brake is dragging, back off, fix wheel. Off again, fumble away my other bottle. After all of this I was cold, my muscles were cold, I said F-it. Gonna try to enjoy the ride. Offered to pull for a girl who had 5 guys wheel sucking and not offering any assistance. Did that for a while, lost them in a 2 track... Chatted up some guys that were on my wheel refusing to pass for 5 miles Seen Jodi around mile 28-29 and said screw it, pulled the plug. I should have just finished but I was cold, out of fluids, annoyed and miserable. After 30 minutes of towling off and baby wipes I finally have enough mud off of me to be recognizable for the border crossing.
I will probably be back to redeem myself. It just wasnt my day. Which sucks cause I felt good once I got going. Jodi said I was in the top 75 of all the people that had came through. I imagine if it were dry or even frozen it would be a cool course. That Canadian mud though was a bitch. Clay, leaves, sticky. Not like the sandy stuff we have in the mitten.
Time for a week of riding in northern Georgia. Bikes. Beer. Food. Banjos. Hooped earrings and G6s.