Otter Lessons Learned

1) An apple fritter and a tall china green tips tea from Starbucks is not the ideal pre race food. There's nothing wrong with it in addition to a bowl of oatmeal and some soy bacon, perhaps. But by itself it's not going to get you very far into 20 miles. Stupid. Very stupid.

2) My Juli does not like pavement. I don't care if I'm clipped in with super glue, my seat post raised all the way up my tushie-we don't do pavement. My road bike is snickering as I write this.

3) Sand sucks. It should be banned from all mountain bike courses. Perhaps from the world. Make a law.

4) There are angels in this world. A few weeks back I was feeling all blue and put upon that I had nobody to talk me through this race, and I was going to be out there all by myself, suffering. I was throwing a huge, spoiled "it's not fair, I help everyone else" tantrum. At mile five Tahoe girl came cruising up behind me, and stayed there the entire way just talking at me. We chatted back and forth, she told me I was a good climber (me!) and was picking good lines. By mile 12 she had pulled ahead a bit, but waited for me (waited! in a race!) uphill. I ran out of water and she shared her water bottle with me. She was cheerful, and encouraging, and just happy to be out there hanging with me. She took off right at the end, but she was there when I crossed the finish line cheering me on. Mountain biking angels. That's karma baby. At Wildflower, I'm passing it on.



Last but not least...

5) Never leave your recovery food in the car for three hours with a hungry husband. Thank goodness I hid the peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

Sea Otter kicked my butt. Oh mercy, those hills. Those hills were so wicked that come Wildflower I'm going to head up Lynch Hill and laugh. The single track was very sweet though; flowy and fast and not too muddy. We likes to go downhill. I think that was my best race moment; hitting the downhills with very little brake. I did pretty good with the climbing, I'm getting better. The rest is just a blur of pedaling and pain.



Other Otter lessons learned:

A list of things people say when they know you have no chance of doing well:

1) At least you finished.
Well, yes. There is that. I'll always have the finish line. Nevermind that I'm limping in with the 400 pound guy, and the kid with the broken bike. At least I finished.

2) Race your own race.
Yes, thanks. I'll be sure to do that. God knows I'm too damn tired at the moment to race anyone elses. And along with that...

3) You're really just racing yourself.
And the five hundred other people around me are just a figment of my imagination? And if I'm racing myself, how come I didn't get a medal? Maybe there should be a seperate category. People who race other people, and people who are racing themselves.



A few other rules besides the "no sand, ever" rule.

1) Spectators should only be allowed to say"good job!" or perhaps "keep it up!" It is not useful to stand on the sidelines and yell "pedal, pedal, pedal" at the bikers. We are on bikes, it is obvious to us that pedaling is mandatory. If we fall over, it's not because we forgot to pedal.

2) If you are over 40, and your belly extends way over your jeans, and you are holding a beer can and yucking it up with your friends a la "King of the Hill" style, no one is interested in your opinion on which is the best line. Just keep it to "good job!" and we'll all be happy.

3) And by the way, the first time I was standing by the downhill track and some old dude says to me "where's your body armor?" and I replied "oh I'm not racing" and he says "No, really?" then kind of laughed; that wasn't funny. And it sure as heck wasn't funny the second time it happened by the mountain cross course. Old dudes, take note: girls do downhill too. And just 'cause I'm not doing it this year, doesn't mean I'm not going to be ripping down the course next year.

In fact three minutes of sheer downhill terror is sounding a whole lot better to me than 20 miles of slow, agonizing pain. Sea Otter downhill 2007, here I come!

XC results: 3:09. I was 17 out of 19.