View from the back of the pack: XTerra at Hannah Park

OK, I admit it.  I've been playing way too much and training not at all.

But there have been cool critters to see.

Animal farm along West Orange Trail

Peacock - Tropical Trail

Baby Llamas, or maybe Alpacas?  Tropical Trail

And cool humans to ride with.

Mother-Daughter? or twins?

Killer and I even did a little involuntary bushwhacking into a very sticky Spider Kingdom.

Santos

And I finally got my photo showing a hint of elevation.

From the top of the drop - Vortex, Santos

We got pulled over for speeding - we weren't!  I swear! - then figured it out when the cop turned out to be a mtn biker wanting a closer look at the 29r's.

I rode in the company of some excellent hounds on an excellent hash trail...

And baked some sushi rice bars.

We larked through a short pre-ride of the bike course at Hanna Park on Saturday, after registering for the First Coast Xterra.

The course is all marked!   

Red for Run, Blue for Bike.

Call Mr. and Mrs. Goneriding

when you want a race done right!

So, there you go.  Too much fun.  Too little training. 

Could account for the 2 minute hamstring penalty yesterday at the Xterra, a massive leg locking cramp, costing me the race. 

Or not.

It could have been the last minute decision to lighten up by going with only 70 oz of Gatorade instead of 90.

Or it could have been ignoring the rule - if you make sushi rice bars - eat them.  (Eat them, even if the fridge in your hotel room froze them into solid blocks that thawed into watery soggy blocks.)   

Or, it could have been the time it took to stop and inflate the burp-flat.

Resealed, complete with leaves and twigs inside.

Or... 

I don't know - the moon was full?

That the race turned out to be with myself is irrelevant. 

I thought I was being chased, I really did.  It was both a surprise and a disappointment at the finish to find myself alone in the age group. TriLady aged up, and last year's winner, the woman I expected for the whole race to come swooping by me at any moment, sat out to watch her husband race.  

But there was plenty of company on trail! And plenty of action!    Plenty of crashing and laying down of bikes.  The sugar sandy riders of our third swim wave went straight from sink or swim to pass or be passed, on the three lap, 13 mile loop that is the XTerra bike course in Jacksonville. 

As Lance says, "Some days you're the hammer.  Some days you're the nail." 

Some days, you're both. 

Riders on bikes of all shapes and vintage rushed and spilled down  that trail like hounds on a hunt.  Mostly it was the sand that took them out (and sometimes everyone nearby along with them) but the quick rooty little climbs and drops, among the twisty turns, did their share as well.  At every turn it seemed there was someone to run over (uh, sorry about that), or someone to run over me.

TriLady caught up soon after the transition out of the swim.  But early on, she slowed for a hand off and I dove ahead.  Yes!  When she didn't show up on my wheel again right away, I tried not to worry, knowing sometimes all it takes is one rider in the way to hold you back for awhile.  

Finally - free of the pack!  

But Killer began acting so suddenly squirrelly, I thought at first a wheel had come unseated.  Two solo endos in a row for no apparent reason convinced me I'd better stop at the next trip through transition to figure out what was wrong.  

The moment we hit the pavement, I knew it wasn't the wheel.  There's one rolley polley feel like no other - a front tire gone soft to the point of nearly rolling off the rim. 

Must've burped it on a tree root.

Whew, Killer's squirmy but still rolling.  (Stan's NoTubes saves the day.)  A stop to load up the CO2 inflator, the big PUFF, and - darn - there goes TriLady through transition ahead of me for the third lap.

OK, so chasing down someone who's not even in your age group is never wise, but sometimes it is irresistible.  You know you're pushing the heart rate but the sheer joy of a chase is worth a thousand trophies.  

So I caught her.  And she fell.  And I ploughed into her.  And the guy behind us ploughed into me.  As he and I untangled ourselves, that slippery TriLady got away again.   

And I caught her again, one last opportunity to pass before she could peg me between the two trees on the Grunt, and I did it!  I came up beside her, about to shoot by...

And a massive cramp seized my hamstring.

TriLady shot off down the trail without me.

There I stood, alone on one leg, unable to move in any direction, for two solid minutes. 

I desperately dug out my one mustard packet and sucked it down, but with an empty Camelbak, there seemed little chance of recovery.  I needed to take in some fluids, and soon.  (A bad enough cramp can shred a meniscus and set you back a year, but the Sebring Century is another story.)

Sometimes, there is no way to go but forward.  

So, I hopped. 

I could hear the crowd and it wasn't far.  I hopped down the slope, dreading the uphill of the Grunt, but determined.  

The cramp released.   

Huh?  Hopping?  The cure for muscle cramps? Or maybe it was the mustard, but my leg was suddenly freed! 

The Grunt was no trouble with both legs working and no one in the way, but the third and final bike loop ended behind TriLady once again. 

And so did the run.

But there's joy in the finish.  Even if you're limping.

And always, ALWAYS, lessons to be learned - no matter how many times you ride around that block.

(Congrats to TriLady, first in her age group, and to Popeye, second in his.  And congrats to all who finished - and even those who didn't.  You were there!  You won!)