Candi Murray

(OK! Erik no think chocolate well without. Here it is in text form as the
last attachment didn't work....I think I still like my computer.)

Hoogerheide World Cup (January 21, 2007)

It wasn't supposed to be like that. I suppose I should consider myself
lucky: the conditions were, after all, what I pray for. God heard the call,
but I wasn't rewarded with a trip to heaven: I don't think the weather is
like that up there. No, it seemed more like hell, actually-or, at the
least, purgatory, given how much time we spent riding in "rivers" of rain
and mud. By the end, I'd spent one hour sixteen trying to cross Styx. I
think I'm still there in Purgatory, or Belgium, I guess. But the music's
good: right now "I've got too much time on my hands". Domo arrigato, Mr.
Roboto.

We don't have races like this back home, so I definitely got what I paid
for. Really, days like yesterday are why I still bother with all this. The
problem is, when it's tough like that, the best guys-some of them, I
guess-go even better than normal, so I just get my ass kicked worse. On the
other hand, I tend to place better because it's such a freak show. It's a
blessing and a curse, a double-edged sword if ever there was one.

The earlier races were held under more or less normal conditions. By the
end of the women's race, we realized things could get ugly. Instead of
running the normal treads of Challenge Grifos or Dugast Typhoons, we all
made late changes to mud tires like Dugast Rhinos. The course was already
muddy and heavy, but now it was gonna be truly awful. The mechanics had to
start over, which sucks for them: so many guys have deep-section carbon
wheels with poorly fitted valve extenders that the simple act of putting air
in tires is a nightmare. Like Stu and Ziggy said, it always comes down to
the $2 part or, in this case, the $6.50 Tufo brand valve extender that
should come stock on every nice quality 'cross tubular. Remember The
Simpsons episode "Deep Space Homer", when Homie and his crew are saved by
the inanimate carbon rod? It was kinda like that. As nice as FSA, Easton,
and Zipp carbon wheels are to ride, it's tough to beat Mavic's Ksyrium
wheel, the best combination of strength and durability, balance of weight
and rigidity, and simplicity of service and set-up out there. Basically,
old Matson didn't have any trouble putting air in my tires. "In Rod We
Trust!"

I was the last rider called up, the man with the fewest UCI points in the
field. It was only a group of 50, but these fuckers are so fast that it's
hard to move up. I just tacked on to the back and managed to work my way
thru a few during the first lap. Among these was Tristan Schouten, in his
first 'cross over here. (Talk about a baptism by fire-or, at least, all the
other elements. He would stay in, eventually finishing 2-down, but
finishing and getting placed, nevertheless. He rode with a ton of pride and
guts.) Near the end of the lap, a series of crashes littered the bottom of
the biggest drop-in on the course. I slalomed thru bedded bikes and bodies
and then made the 180^ hairpin turn. It was sketchy.

By the second lap I'd gone clear of a few guys and was off the back of a
five-man group. Already, the discomfort level was high: my head was so cold
that facial paralysis was setting in; my hands were freezing numb; and my
waterproof socks were carrying water. Worst, my stomach was so upset that I
was choking back the vomit that kept bubbling up. My Friday bout with food
poisoning was pretty severe. (That and Saturday's race are another story..)
I'd lost a lot of weight not to mention my appetite, so I knew I was in debt
as Sunday dawned. I felt weak and run-down, so I ate as much as possible in
the hours before the race. I no doubt have that to thank for the unsettled
stomach.

Anyway, I made a point of it to catch this group, and by the end of the lap
I did, on the paved climb to the cobbled finish straightaway. Wicks had
come off the group a bit earlier. (He'd hang it up, but he's good at
staying positive. He said, "You just got roll with it over here, even when
it's a perpetual sommersault". Barry'll be back by next Sunday.) Some of
the guys left in it were the Other Sven, the Japanese rider, Canada's champ,
one of the Gil bros., etc. I spent the next lap tailing off these guys.
Greg Reain got to the front of the group and was clearly riding well. By
now, I heard the head of our group was in 31st place, so my motivation level
was high, as one of my goals has been to finish in the top-30 of a World
Cup. (I know, my head's always in the clouds, reaching for the stars.
Maybe someday I'll get a new pair of pants, too. That'd be sweet. Actually,
Barry's gonna sew me up some.with pleats, even!) I could see that Greg had
gapped off the others, so I made an effort to go thru them and bridge up to
him. By the end of the third lap I was close, leading a few of the others.
Later I'd shed 'em and was close to The Reain on an awful, barely rideable
uphill slog. If I could just get there! Out of nowhere came his Belgian
teammate Van Nuffel, flying by at an impossible speed. They hooked up, and
back up went the gap. Still, I kept at it. I could see that Tim dropped
him by the climb to the finish, so I made a big effort to close the now 30
sec. gap to Greg. I managed most of it on the short climb, gaining almost
all of it in a minute's push.

But that was as good as it got for me. I started to suffer on the fifth lap
and never actually caught Greg. He would continue his pace, even catching
Joachim "The Danish" Parbo, the champ from Denmark. They had more than I
did, for sure, finishing 20th and 21st, respectively. By now, I was solo on
the course with just over 3 to go. Basically, there was no more racing for
me: I was just trying to survive. I was bonking and knew that I had to go
for 30 more minutes. I just didn't have the reserves, I guess. I really
had to suffer for it, to dig deep into a part of myself that almost never
sees the light of day. Nobody else passed me, and the only guys I "passed"
were riders who'd abandoned. I finished 25th, but, man, I hemorrhaged time
thanks to the lack of company and my general, deplorable state. In fact,
I'd eventually give up over 3 min. to Reain and Parbo! I should call them
Greenland. Come on, look it up!

The question is whether or not it was a good race. I think it was,
especially given my set of circumstances. On the other hand, I'm not
looking for excuses, even if I have perfectly credible ones. I know I left
something on the table, and I find that very frustrating. For instance,
Reain is a guy I often beat, so now I feel like I missed a chance at a
top-20 finish. Of course, he's a good pal of mine, and I take genuine
pleasure in seeing my buddies do well. He deserves it as much as-probably
more than-I do. Both of us are better here than at home, so I like to see
that confirmed. I think when one of us does well, the other finds it
encouraging-"If Tonkin can do it, then maybe so can I", ya know.

Trebon had an incredible race, finishing 10th and right behind Page. Ryan
out-toughed an awful lot of tough guys. When a group caught him during the
race, he even fought-off every one of 'em. This'll sound silly, but I'm so
proud of him. He put his season back on track during a 'cross that the
Belgian press called "apocalyptic". Yeah, he can really ride these "heavy"
courses, even though a lot of people think he doesn't like racing in the mud
or is only good on dry, fast tracks. It's just not true. In fact, over
here his best results happen at the biggest events with the harshest tracks.
He just needs to be more consistent at the lower level events, to approach
those with a more work-a-day, blue-collar attitude. Then, he'll be a true
"big guy", as they say over here.

I find it difficult to paint a picture of some of these courses. It was a
lot like the Hooglede-Gits World Cup last year, but it wasn't as cold then.
And that race's mud was more slippery than Hoogerheide's sandy mix. As for
races back home, I can't think of many that featured descents that were hard
to pedal down and stay upright on. I can think of similarly wet and cold
and snowy and windy days, like Gloucester and Providence in 2005. I can
even think of some good sloggers, like Portland many times. But it's never
all at once, so those races never end up "hard". Maybe it's more
appropriate to think outside the world of cycling as we know it, to draw
instead from the wide world of sports. With that in mind, it was kinda like
a tractor pull or, better, like one of those absurd outdoorsmen's
competitions popular in the upper midwest. Yeah, it was a sort of
lumberjack contest except our bikes were the saws. The trees were still the
trees, only we were pulling the damn things around instead of chopping 'em
down. Oh, forget it. Just add the fact that Mr. Nijs needed one hour seven
to finish, and the paint starts to dry..

--Erik Tonkin