A Long Ride in the Rain and Forgotten Socks

               I wouldn’t have changed a thing, but the Taupo Cycling Challenge was definitely a rude awakening out of the semi-offseason for this year. With 80-kilometer and approximately 2000 meters of elevation gain the race was nothing to scoff at. Looking back now, it was probably beneficial that I came in with absolutely no expectations, slightly undertrained, and possibly a touch overconfident in my own abilities. “Sure man, you’ve ridden this distance before… you’ve definitely got it in the legs again.” Note: the only times I’ve raced this distance at a competitive pace were the two Epic Rides events months earlier. Apparently I had forgotten how deep I buried myself for those and how completely exhausted I was afterwards. Memory was never a real forte of mine… undoubtedly beneficial in a sport such as xc mountain bike racing. Anyways, I was committed the minute the thought of competing entered my head. Had I skipped the event the regret would’ve definitely burned a hole for months. The whole mindset of ‘start saying yes’ may prove to bring about some type two fun. (Or with any luck… some of the mythical type two point five fun.)

               Race day rolled around after a restful night’s sleep crammed into the back of a car with a beg-hogging bike. A slight drizzle surrounded Great Lake Taupo, and the ominous pre-dawn clouds boded more rain to come. The entire town was filled to the brim with cyclists there for the event, each with their own level of accommodation: some rented flats, others had motorhomes and popups, a decent amount camped, and a few were lucky enough to stay with friends and family. Not exactly sure how many were to be found that morning bundled in down jackets, sitting cross-legged in the back of a car, while eating cookstove-heated oatmeal, hardboiled eggs, and instant coffee… but I’d expect I was one of a select few. In any case, I’m sure I was a sight to see, and hopefully the spectacle which was my morning routine brought at least a few people a smile. 

               Another skill of mine which could use quite a bit of fine-tuning is my packing ability, specifically not forgetting things which are relatively necessary. As I was pulling out the articles of clothing to be worn throughout the day, it soon became horrifyingly clear that I had forgotten socks. Shit. Not only would this prove to be four very uncomfortable hours, but the defined sock-tan line I’d acquired throughout this past year was going to be blatantly obvious to every person there. Mind racing, every possible solution I could think of flashed through my mind, most of which were quite stupid upon second consideration. Finally I decided to try my luck downtown and hope some shop would be open at 5:30 in the morning. Tossing my credit card in a back pocket alongside a few gels, I awkwardly made my way to the expo center in downtown Taupo, all the while feeling very self-conscious about my obvious lack of socks. Scanning storefronts for any movement I finally found what I was looking for: a half-asleep employee leaning against the door, obviously thinking they’d rather be in bed at the moment. Dashing into the store I quickly found the socks, and happily bought the only color in stock—bright blue. Now if anyone’s seen what my normal kit looks like… well blue doesn’t fit AT ALL, but now I couldn’t care less. With much happier feet and a lighter conscious I rolled towards the start line, with the majority of my allotted warm-up time spent sock hunting.

               I was set to be in the second wave, a full minute behind everyone up front. So from the gun it would be a game of catch-up, and I’d have to burn a few matches to catch up with the leaders… given I could catch them at all. I rechecked my supplies for the umpteenth time to make sure everything was in place: tube and CO₂ strapped to the seatpost, bananas in the left pocket, gels in the right, and spare bottle in the middle. My pedal was tilted at the correct angle for a swift start and shoes were tightened evenly. There was a light mist in the morning air and the dark grey sky threatened more rain to come, promising my bright blue socks would soon be a dull brown, along with the rest of my kit and any exposed skin. A final swig of water as the start clock dropped below a minute to go.

               The announcer sent of the first wave and they blasted across the dew-soaked field and onto the course. With a heart rate well into the triple digits I stood motionless, primed for action. “Anytime within the next thirty seconds…. fifteen… ten……. GO!!”  We were off. Even though this was set to be a four-plus hour race it seemed people were still willing to burn a few matches right away at the beginning. Understanding it would undoubtedly be an advantage to get into the singletrack ahead of the majority of riders, I kicked my effort up a notch and took back some positions and placed myself near the front of the wave.

               Now comes the time where the majority of people reading this begin to zone out, so I’m going back to the whole bullet-point-list thing to explain the next four hours… rather than imagining peoples’ eyes slowly glaze over and switch to some other, much more important activity.

·        My short XC racing mindset kicked in and I burned a few matches to catch the wave in front.

·        Caught the group in front, looked at my computer and realized we were only 20 kilometers in.

·        Had a mini panic attack that I’d bonk.

·        Dialed back the effort and conserved energy.

·        Raced smart… primarily by sitting on the chase groups’ wheel and trying to keep my heart rate low.

·        Did my best to enjoy the incredible trails we were riding.

·        Began to understand why pre-riding a track is VITAL.

·        Decided to throw smart racing out the window and attack the group I was in.

·        Broke away from the group around the 30 km mark.

·        Rode alone (in the rain) for about 90 minutes.

·        Caught one of the riders who also broke from the group.

·        Was glad to have a riding partner for the moment (thanks for the conversation + laughs Sean)

·        Broke away from Sean in an effort to catch the leader.

·        Caught the leader.

·        Felt the inevitable bonk coming on (we’re around kilometer 70 of 80 now)

·        Watched in despair as the leader started to ride me off his wheel.

·        Watched my heart rate drop significantly.

·        Ate the remainder of my food in a last-ditch effort to not tip over from exhaustion.

·        Forced my screaming legs towards the finish line downtown.

·        Drank the last of my water.

·        Suffered up the last hill (not without a few mumbled swear words)

·        Limped to the finish line, still in second place by the way.

·        Got passed by a 13-year-old girl on the finishing straight.

o   Not joking on this one; she flew past me before I had a chance to react… not as if I could’ve.

·        Crossed the line caked in mud, completely spent, and thoroughly happy.

·        Fell off my bike and laid in the grass for far too long.

So, what did I learn from this flash trip? Well for starters, make sure you’re prepared for an event by thoroughly pre-riding the track, setting up proper housing arrangements, being confident in athletic abilities, and remembering socks. But on the other hand sometimes it’s good to throw caution to the wind and say ‘screw it.’ I came into this event having no expectations, no prior knowledge, and honestly was flying by the seat of my pants at times (actually most of the time). And while coming so close to first then watching it slip away stings a little, a second place finish in an extremely challenging event is something I can be proud of. This then brings up the question of what if… what if my preparation had been better? What if I had put a little more effort into planning and making sure everything was perfect? Maybe then could I have had the legs or knowledge to cross the line first, or would something have not gone to plan and caused everything to come off the rails? Guess we’ll never know, but it’s something to think about for next time. But next time is a long way off and right now it’s back to the half-offseason thing I was originally in… basically still training but with WAY more ice cream. 

Footnote: no pictures because my phone died as I was sleeping in the car, and I'm not about to pay $20 for a digital download... if you're really keen on seeing me crossing the finish line drenched, completely shattered, and in the wrong color socks; the pictures exist somewhere on the interwebs. Good hunting! In the meantime, here's a shot haphazardly taken out the car window on my drive home.