Mother nature has had her way with us. A full blown white winter with record snowfalls, the looooong awaited spring, and more recently the soggy middlewest we once ventured via two wheels. With an extra hour of travel time due to the flooding Marko, Meghan, Amanda, and I loaded up early and set the garmin on safari mode. After dodging ever going construction and washed out back road bridges we arrived at Don’s dirt circus with forty minutes to spare. The ladies headed for the ski lift, cooler in hand while the Darkness and I suited up and hit registration. Soon after we found ourselves weaving an intricate web of single track that Don and crew laid out the prior month. Everything appeared to be in place as we warmed the 36:21’s up shortly before the massive Subaru cup start.
Goooooooooo! Into the first mild left and we’re clear. Five of us already strung with plenty in tow. Not knowing what the competition brought I sat in for a moment and let the nerves settle. I felt the lack of power immediately. Around the parking lot in third I hopped on TJ’s wheel before the first segment of sog stretch. Immediately after I punched it in hopes of revving the engine. No hope but I ran with it as the damage was done. Down to 4. Me, Mikey, Marko, and TJ continued the lap before the anxiousness turned into a wolf. Burying ourselves we went to work. First me, then Marko. Back and forth for the next lap until the gap was comfortable. Never committing the bonk we kept it clean until the last lap.
With a comfortable gap it was time to race each other. Our feeds were perfect all day with Amanda and Meghan hidden high atop Mt Morris on the cleanest portion of trail. I heard Marko ask for an open gel and water before the final lap which revealed his mental state or did it…
As I found myself pulling the last big climb of the day I couldn’t help but wonder what the Darkness had up his sleeve. With an epic finishing stretch this course could result in ultimate trickery. I kept it pinned right up until I lost his breath on my back. On the tight uphill switchbacks I glanced over as he murmured, “see you at the finish.” It was tough as usual, business as usual. The guns were out whether my body wanted to cooperate or not. Damn it feels good to be a gangsta.
