It has been a long journey for me, mentally and obviously physically this year so far, and my lesson has been capped off with an absolutely fantastic trip to Canberra, Australia for the 2009 Nissan UCI Mountain Bike World Championships. We arrived with a week or so to go, and we needed every day to practice the super technical course. Race day dawned, and it was a very nervous time for Rourke Croeser and I. We had worked incredibly hard for this day, stayed well and eaten healthy and now it was time to go. On the start line, the tension was running high, but I kept myself surprisingly calm. I had checked my bike numerous times, and I was sure that nothing would go wrong. Little did I know...
Then the gun went off and it was a complete scramble. In my relatively short mountain biking career I have never been in such a start. Every single guy there, all 80 of them, wanted to be in about 5th position, not higher or lower. There were crashes and pile-ups and constant swearing in many different languages. I tired my hardest to take the right line, but managed to end up in the first single track position in about 25th or so, with Rourke a couple of places ahead. I was not too fazed, but suddenly some of the many variables in racing altered significantly, not in my favour. Somebody up ahead had stalled, and then we all had to jump off and run, or else risk being passed by faster moving guys who running (it was that steep). We entered the last uphill section on the first half of the course, and then we came to the drop. This is a moment that has been tossing and turning in my head every day since the race. If I could go back to any moment in my life, it would probably be this. Somebody had fallen up ahead on the most technical section, and as a result everybody was off their bikes and running. I got up and off, and while jumping over the one rock, I was knocked by another guy, not too hard, but as I was off balance it was just enough to tip me over. The bike landed first, and I though nothing of it, just to jump back up and keep going. I was up in a flash, but as I griped my front brake, I felt little shards of magnesium and suddenly realised that it was no longer connected and that it was finished. Words alone cannot describe the disappointment that surged through me as I pedalled furiously up the next section towards the feed zone.
I entered the feed zone and clearly the brake was beyond repair. The rest of the race would have to be ridden without the front brake. For those of you who do not know, 75% of your braking comes from your front brake, and without it I was super slow in the technical stuff. So I made a pact to myself to do the best I could do without it, and so began a slow torture. I would work my heart out on the flats and ups, and pass about 10 or 15 guys, and then watch helplessly as they effortlessly pulled themselves back in the technical sections. Most of the international riders reckon that it was one of the most technical courses in history.
Things were looking ok, but my bad luck was not over. While out of the saddle on one of the climbs, my chain snapped. I reacted on cruise control, and made it to the feed zone, bitterly disappointed and upset. I was way back in 60th or so, and ready to quit. I got a new chain and decided to salvage something from the race, going flat out till the end. I ended up 45th, distraught but having learnt a lot. Fitness wise, I was up there with the best, and all I could wish for is a second chance, but that’s racing for you. I must mention a huge thank you to those who made the race possible. The rest of the trip was memorable, and a huge eye opener for me to decided if this is actually what I want to do with my life...
Till next time!
J
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