To quote John Lennon...

Nobody told me there'd be days like these.

Sunday seemed like a good day for a cross race. The temperatures had cooled off to something more typical of mid-November. My legs, for the first time in three weekends, did not feel completely wasted from the weight lifting that I started a couple weeks ago. Everything was looking up a for a competitive race.

Our typically benign cyclocross weather was threatening to be be unpleasant. A band of showers had been running just north of town all day but looked as though no precipitation would roll through the area until later in the day. The skies were gray and gloomy. The humidity was high and causing the smokestacks of industries along the river to spew thick plumes of billowing smoke. It would at least look like 'cross weather, even if the the course would likely remain dry. That's what I thought.

I pulled the bike out of the car to take a recon lap and pass Marco who was already on the course. As we pass, he says "It's crazy". What? The last time we raced at this park, the course was somewhat challenging but nothing that I would consider crazy. I hopped on the course about mid-way through a lap and was immediately greeted by a quick left, down, right turn and up followed by a paved walking path. It was a fun little dipsy-do but nothing crazy.

Then came the barrier followed by a looong stretch of unevenly spaced stairs up a gradual hill. The stairs would force everyone to ride on approximately a foot and a half of soft ground on either side of the stairs.

Get the top of the climb and the fun was not over. Then, twist your way down a somewhat narrow descent. I can handle that. Unfortunately, this dirt path through the woods doesn't get much sunlight. Even though the previous week had been fairly dry and most of the course on solid ground, there were two stretches on this path with mud bogs several inches deep. Grind, grunt, pedal, steer right, pedal, correct your steering, grunt, steer the other direction, grind. The mud was actually quite fun, but challenging.

Survive the mud and you get to climb up another hill for another 100+ feet to the top of the course before diving down the road toward the finish line followed by our more traditional, winding cross course design with a bonus double sandpit. It was a crazy course. Let's race.

I didn't take a great start spot simply because I was not completely sure how I would feel and did not want to interfere too much with the front runners. My mid-pack starting spot was fine. My start was average and I lost a few places but began to work my past a few people. The sand pits were no problem, through the dipsy-do, over the barrier and start up the long hill. So far, so good. I was still mid-pack but near Miguel and Cristophe so I was with folks of similar ability.

Halfway up the hill, my chain drops between the cassette and my spokes. I tugged and pulled and fiddled around. Meanwhile, riders kept cruising right by me. I finally extricated the chain, jumped on the saddle and got on my way... for 50 feet.

The chain again dropped between the cassette and spokes. Awww... c'mon!!!! Off the bike and proceed with yanking, wiggling and any number of other maneuvers. After another 30 seconds of playing around I get under way and I find myself firmly in last place. The nearest rider is not even in sight.

I reach the top of the hill and start my descent. At that point I can hear the horns and bells and screaming as the leaders are already passing through the start/finish area. Good grief! I slogged my way through the mud in hopeless solitude. In some respects I was almost glad not to be going through this section with 50 other people. On the other hand, I had more than a few thoughts of resignation. Why beat myself up for another 45 minutes of mud and heartache?

But, the race was young. I tried to think positively and looked at this as a chance to see how many people I could catch. And, catch people I did. Slowly, steadily. I was not to be confused with Sven Nys catching Niels Albert earlier in the day at Gavere, but I was making progress.

Then, on the last lap, I flew over the barrier and rode up, along the stairs, for the last time. Sure enough, my chain drops into the spokes for a third freakin' time. I must have fought with the darn thing for well over a minute this time. It was just not coming loose. Completely frustrated, I decided to just run with the bike. I ran to the top and down through the first mud section when it dawned on my that running really sucks and running with a bike sucks even more. I fought with the chain again for at least another 30 seconds before finally getting it free. By this time all my hard work throughout the race was wasted. Virtually everyone I managed to pass during the race, streamed right past me again.

Maybe I should have quit the race on the first lap. The result would almost been the same. No, I am happy to have kept racing. My legs felt better than previous races and I got to work on a few things like shouldering the bike and riding through the mud. I still need to improve on pulling chains out of wheels, though. Finished 48th of 50 finishers.

Nobody told me there'd be days like these.