jon myers

From Erik Tonkin:

Thanks to all you readers out there. And thanks to everybody who posted my last report in various places around the intra-net. I'm not very efficient with my computering, so having these reports posted on various PDX sites as well as cyclocrossworld.com is quite helpful. In fact, I might shorten my list to ask everybody to refer to those bit hitters.... Because of time and laptop access, I'll split this report into two parts. Wow, that's kinda like a pulp novel serialized in 1930's rags--take that, Age of Technology!

Part 1:

Real bike racers ride every day, and real writers write every day. I can't claim that title yet, but I'm trying in my own little way. It's hard to write when things don't go well, and that was the case the other day. Of course, it's hard to motivate to train and race when the chips are down, too. But I wrote that report on Wed., and then I went out to train in the cold and rain for 3 hours. What I wanted to do was go home to the states and lick my wounds and accept the fact that my form just isn't as good this year. I figured that wasn't an option, so I got on the bike and pushed thru it. One way to get psyched up to race is to just go out on a bike ride.

I do seem to draw strength from tough situations, but believe me it's an internal struggle to stay positive and meet the challenge. This year in particular, I've struggled to stay on the right side. It's hard on me to constantly have to shift gears (so to speak), to switch back and forth between bike racing and work, especially when the bike racing isn't going well. The thing is, for the past few years I've tried to treat the bike racing as a job, too. I mean, at this level--especially here but also at home--the races, the competition, and the support command a certain level of respect. I'm not good enough to be here vacationing and racing at the same time. So, getting into that professional frame of mind is essential, especially for an amateur like me. I think I owe my improvement over the past 4 years to this change in my approach to racing. I always have to find new ways to trick myself into thinking that it's worth it, that all the time and money and energy spent
is worth it. No, it's not that fun to make 7 plane trips for 12 races during he domestic season and only miss 10 days of work doing it, or to fly over to Europe over the Christmas holiday, and so on....This is "post-fun" for me now, but I still find the challenge worth meeting.

Blah blah blah. Anyway, my thigh had loosened up a bit, so I decided to race at Loenhout. Racers here have to quickly put behind them the bad days, keep their confidence high, and move on to what's next. It's easier said than done. I told Luigi to go ahead and load up the bikes.

I can happily report that it's easier to write this because, all things considered, the race went well. Loenhout is a fun but intimidating course, one that makes for a lot of speed and a lot of crashes. I must admit that I was scared--I just didn't want to hit the deck hard again. But the weather cooperated--the rain and just-above-freezing temps. made the loop an absolute mess. Really, it was the kind of cross that I hope and pray for, and I so wish that I could have raced it at 100% of the form that I have now. (I really wish that I could have raced it with the form I had last year, but c'est la vie....) Nevertheless, I gave it a good go.

Loenhout is considered the world's biggest cross thanks to its level of promotion, the size and quality of its field, and its spectator friendly but harrowing "parcours". I heard that 80+ riders started the men's race, and it felt like it at the start. I was near the back (of course) but managed to move up enough to escape the obligatory first turn crash and then witness Frischy and Treefarm bump and tangle at the head of a very long, straight, nasty grassy mud slog. Our hero--Frischy, that is--went hard into a fence pole and didn't get up. Ryan, on the other hand, got out of the saddle and put it down like few others can. He is just unbelievably powerful. Still, he had this to say about the course's toughest section: "That shit was hard. You'd get all loaded up riding into the headwind on the long start/finish section, and then you'd have to ride that mess." Indeed, the slog itself got harder to ride as it neared the end, and not just because we were all toast by th
en. The grass just deteriorated into a brown hole. Some guys had to run it, but this guy never did: I'm not blessed with a lot of natural talent, but one thing I do have is low-end torque. Besides, I was determined to stay on the bike, as running wouldn't've been good for my leg. It was not fast, so the crowd had a lot of time to admire us here. After, Ryan noted that some of the ladies were cheering for him by name, the "Long Trebon". I said they were probably impressed by his humping action.

Just after the awful slog was the loop's first cross-over. We had just barely enough momentum to make it up the steep, slippery wood planks. I usually rode it in the 42x24t, too nervous to put the chain in the 27t for fear of it flirting with my spokes. I caught and briefly passed The Powers here, plunging down the other side shoulder to shoulder with him. Dropping these ramps is tricky--the angle is sharp at the bottom, and the options are bleak, just multiple deep ruts. When this course is muddy, there are no good lines. I mean, tape to tape, lap after lap, almost nothing reliable developed. And if a line did emerge, then it got so rutted-out that it had to be abandoned. (A rut gets so deep that the bottom bracket shell bottoms out on it. Obviously, touching a pedal to the ground isn't uncommon, either.) Guys were just everywhere, all race long, even back with me. I think everybody wanted to call a "do-over" every lap. Both of us were close behind Wicks now, hea
lthier than he'd been in days and riding like it, too. But Jeremy got to him and the next group in the turnaround at the pit, and he never looked back. Powers went on to have what I think was his best ever Belgian 'cross, finishing 28th, at least a minute up on me. I hope he sticks with it for years to come. I kept Barry in sight at about 30 seconds for the rest of the day, but I never had the punch to make it to his group, yielding maybe 45sec. by the end. He placed 34th, in the front of his gang.

My group ultimately included Troy Wells, who's a great guy to race and ride with. It's so much fun to watch him thrash around out there. I realized that we weren't a threat to get "doubled", so that was encouraging. The loop was obviously slower than the past 2 years, but I think it was also longer. In 2004, Wicks and I and others, including Mlynar, were in a group racing so hard for, like, 29th, all the while with one eye over our shoulder as Nijs was just 15 seconds from getting us. God, that was fun. Anyway, this year's race, too, was incredible for its deep field and the intense racing. Even in my group, we were all just throwing ourselves at the course, everybody taking risks and pushing the edges. One time I came over the top of a sharp earthen mound and just plowed into a pile of guys on the other side, what was left of the group I'd been chasing. I, too, was now on the pile, all the work I'd done to regain ground after pitting down the muddy drain.

Taking bike changes was absolutely necessary. I'm not sure why, but here the mud is so slippery and sticky at the same time: forward progess and staying upright are quite difficult. The only domestic 'cross I've seen that compares was actually the race at Sauvie's Island in Portland this year, the corn-maze section the common thread in particular. Back home, wet conditions usually cause one problem or the other: on the rare days when heavy mud requires pitting back home, traction is never an issue; when the course is slick and tricky, pitting is unnecessary as the bikes aren't burdened with mud.

Pitting was a problem for me. I know better, but I can't help screwing with my bikes. I'm constantly changing my seat position, my stem and handlebar set-up, etc. It's like a nervous twitch for me, just like how I'm always picking at my ears. The more serious issue was tires. I only had one set of Dugast Rhinos, and they were the call of the day. My "B" bike had the reliable Michelin clinchers, but they sucked by comparison. Wicks would have this to say: "Don't ever ride clinchers, dumbass!" Anyway, the consequence is that I always favor one bike over another, and Loenhout was no exception. Whenever I was on the day's "B" bike, I definitely struggled. The pits were so busy that we couldn't always get a bike back within a lap, so I tried to ride my "A" machine as much as possible. I think I pitted 3 times, riding "A" for 6 laps to "B"'s 4.

There were constant lead changes in our group, all the way to the end. Thrash figured that we all must have shuffled positions close to 20 times over the last 3 laps. I dumped it by myself pretty late and so got gapped off. It took a lap, but with less than 1 to go I rejoined the group, but turning on to the long, paved finish straight I had no legs for a jump, and rode in behind the others. By then my thigh had seized up sumpin' awful, so I was pretty happy to've survived the ordeal. I ended up 42nd. Wells was just 2 spots back.

After the race, it was a celebation, as Jeremy Powers impersonating Dave Chappelle's Rick James would say. I nerded it up and gave Wicks his combined (and much belated) birthday and holiday present: I brought over the fixings to make gluten-free chocolate chip cookies, so we baked and consumed those, "dirty" as they were. I actually contained myself to a degree, having eaten a 400g jar of choco-duo by myself the day before. I know, that's real pro.