Jingle Cross in Iowa City has become a tradition for me since I went for the first time in 2008. Typically it signifies the end of my bike racing season and is a great race to cap things off with. It's been getting bigger every year and is one of the biggest CX races in the Midwest.
Still, I wasn't sure I wanted to go this year. After having a god-awful season on the CX bike I finally started to feel good about it at the GP Zac Daab race last week. A part of me wanted to end the season on a high note and take that stored-up enthusiasm into next year. Racing again at Jingle might mean something could re-dampen that enthusiasm and krush my konfidence.
Turns out that something is known as Mt. Krumpit.
I determined that not racing Jingle Cross would be lame. If my confidence was back up, why not take that into Jingle and kill it? Prove that things are on the up, and pile on more enthusiasm for the future. Besides, there was nothing better to do and I simply don't know what to do but race CX bikes on Thanksgiving weekend. So I went.
Rather than race Friday in the dark ("under the lights" - so they say) I decided to simply practice on the course whilst others were warming up. This gave me about 40 minutes of solid riding and allowed me to get in the way of the pros and pretend I was like them. My jacket even matched my bibs and I had a water bottle in my middle back pocket and my collar zipped up high.
Riding the course Friday, I felt unusually good. The course was dry but grippy; lots of turns and not very "heavy.," just ins and outs and punchy with some technical stuff thrown in. I'm starting to believe that these are perfect course ingredients for me. I also figured I was good and fresh from not riding my bike since the GP Zac Daab. Double-edged sword, that one.
Saturday morning my legs felt dead. "Tapering" taken too far. The steady rain turned my dream course into a slop fest. They added about 100 feet of extra length to the Mt. Krumpit klimb. The descent was outrageous, but it's like that every year so it was no surprise. We all ride the same course.
Off the start line, I careened through the field into the first corner when my brakes basically didn't hook up for a few seconds. The first mud race of the year never goes well. My tires were made for all (meaning some, mostly dry)-conditions. Not a deal breaker though, just keep seated and power through. Over the fly-over and up to the hill. Holy kow, Mt. Krumpit slammed the door on me like nothing ever has in a bike race before. Spirit broken, I plodded my way around, lamenting my water-filled shoes and dreading the long lines at the bike wash. My supposed propensity for mud races vanished 5 minutes into the first lap.
Sunday went a little better. Less persons showed up but the start was similar, only the mud had thickened up and mated with loose grass clippings to make that lethal peanut-butter/seaweed glop. This day, I was prepared for the run up Mt. Krumpit and so embraced it, doing the stutter steps that make me look like I'm running but in reality not moving a whole lot faster than someone essentially walking, but it's a distinction with a difference. If you walk, you gave up. If you appear to be running, you are running, even attacking. A lesson I learned a while ago but always forget until I'm staring up Mt. Krumpit each Saturday after Thanksgiving.
I beat a few more people on Sunday and generally felt better, as I usually do. Still, I raced terribly and was back to frustrated status. I can come up with excuses and theories all day (see above) but in the end I performed below my expectations; not just at Jingle but all year. It's unfortunate, but I had fun at many of the races and wouldn't have it any other way. Bike racing is hard and gets harder when you upgrade.
It's hard to believe the season is over. I have a lot of motivation going into the winter, and a lot of lessons learned. I'll do a season wrap-up soon; it will be good to take a step back and look at how the year unfolded.
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