another weekend of not-cross-weather.

Yeah, the points didn't happen. The closest Ben got was sitting in 19th/20th on Sunday, but that was before the 40 minute mark, a mark that has become his nemesis on the hot days and the time when I start looking away and fretting. It's when the other guys in the pit go from "he's looking good" to "it's hard to do it your first year." Everyone in the pit is pulling for Ben, it's kinda crazy. But let's be real: he is doing well, he's finishing mid-pack, he's where he should be for a first-year elite rider, and he has a long career in front of him. We'll keep trying for the point, but I think it might take longer than we planned.

FRIDAY
Thank goodness for a 5pm race, the heat had sort of worn off by the time the guys lined up, and though the course was brutally bumpy and the sores on Ben's thumbs from riding the hoods would come out bloody, it was his best race of the weekend. His start plain old sucked and from the pit I saw the pack just ride away from him, as usual I had no idea what was up. He rides past and shouts, "no big ring," and comes back for a bike next time through. (Why didn't he discover this on a pre-ride??) Meanwhile I double check the B bike- tire pressure, chain lube, shifting, what gear it's in- and give him the bike in big ring and big cog.
Half a lap later, "no big ring!" Crap. I had started pulling more cable through the front derailer of the A bike, and I started getting shaky. I had half a lap to do it. Pulled about an inch, tested the shifting, it was all good. Check tire pressure, chain lube, shift to big ring big cog, right crank forward, send it out. B bike in hand and... front derailer is shifting fine. Huh?
Ben comes by again, "not fixed!" Huh? I'm sitting there scratching my head. These bikes are shifting fine in my hands, but he can't seem to get them up in the big ring. Either way, he only slips back 2-3 places, he finishes strong and rides competitively the whole way through. After the line, I walk down with his bottle, ready for a shouting-at. I grab the bike, and again, in my hands, it shifts fine. It's harder when I'm on it, riding it back to the car, and I could see how in the middle of a race you would think it wasn't there... it just wasn't dialed in, it was my fault. And so I recabled both bikes in Zach's mom's basement that night while everyone else showered, making the shift a little easier and him happier. (Photo: Naz)

Saturday
I took some crap in the pit today from guys saying things like, "you were really working hard yesterday." It's true. A good wrench doesn't have bikes come back like that. It was sort of embarrassing. It wasn't going to be repeated. I really enjoyed talking with Jeremy Powers' wrench Ben, who was an ohio local and the team mechanic for Jelly Belly. Super nice guy, had some good stories to tell. Another guy was oogling Ben's bike in my hand, and feeling a little defensive after yesterday I flatly said, "just tell me what I did wrong with the build now." I didn't realize- he wasn't looking for problems, he was admiring the lovely frame and commented on the Rock Lobster and the nice anodized Pauls. Huh.
At the gun there was a pause before we saw the guys through the first turn. They seemed all shuffled up. When Ben came through in the early 20's with Brian Matter, something was up, but he was in a group with some fast guys, so I was all for it. He rode strong into the high teens until 40 minutes in and... it was one of those "where's Ben?" kind of days. The group he was in rode past. Then another guy. Then another guy. Then Ben, head down. Half a lap later, two more had slipped past. In the lap after that, four guys passed him. Powers' wrench commented, "your boy is pedaling squares." Then Powers came by, and that was a race. No work for me in the pit outside of shouting and trying to keep both of us smiling. (Photo: Naz)

Sunday
It was a nice course, and because the morning 8k trail run took us around the whole course (plus some singletrack) I knew it well. I had a great run with Judi (Dominic took the photo) this morning, who hung around all day and we chatted like we'd known eachother forever. It was a welcomed break from the echoes of our little bikey world.
I was excited that things could line up for us today. But it was hot.
Random people started saying hello to me or noticing Ben's name on the bikes and introducing themselves. Ben said that the guy in line behind him at registration recognized his name. His CX Magazine journal thingey seems to be getting read by people out there, and it's sort of mind boggling that the announcer listed his name among the "big names" here today. Name recognition is very new to us, and the expectations that come with it fit us sort of like a pair of 22-36 jeans.
Ben had a good start and came through on the first lap in a group with Mike Sherer in the 19-23 spots. I would have loved for that to be where he stayed, it made me really happy that he was riding so strong. He must have hung in that group for a good three laps. But it was hot and riders were dropping like flies. The group he was in disintegrated and the heat hit him- 30 minutes in he was starting to losing places. Jonathan Baker came by asking his wrench for a bottle. Baker's wrench clarified the rules with the official in the pit- riders can only take a bottle if it's attached to a bike. I set to work trying to attach a bottle to Ben's bottle-cage-less bike. A little electrical tape borrowed from neutral support (must add this to the Rooster. OK- full disclosure... first I tried the elastic-injury-wrap tape and decided that would end up in the drivetrain, then i tried bandaids and that was a mess, so THEN i asked neutral support. you know me, ashamed I didn't have the tape in my kit to start with...) and with the electrical tape it was good to go. I let him know it was there for him, "take a bike change and you can have a bottle!" I told him this the next two times by to make sure. "I SAID I DON'T WANT A BOTTLE!" he grumped back. The entire pit laughed. Married life.
"You know, he may just not be there yet, maybe this isn't the year for him to get a UCI point," remarked another mechanic. That hurt. Four people passed him on the half lap.
He came by again, head down. I shouted anything I could at him, "think about icebergs! Stay on the pedals! It's not over!" One of the mechanics behind me blurted out, "tell him you love him." As he neared the turn into the sandpit, I shouted at the top of my lungs, "I LOVE YOU!" Everyone laughed as he turned back and waved at me. Next lap through, he traded bikes and took the bottle, but it was too late. He got pulled at the bell lap.
I went to check his placing and see if he somehow got lucky and enough guys in front of him dropped out for him to make payout. "Do you have results posted yet?"
"Not posted, but is there a rider you're looking for?"
"Yeah, Ben Popper."
"Oh, you're Julie! Hi! I'm the promoter, and you're the only media here. Thank you."
Media? Hmm. My phone's twitter feed had been linked to CX Mag all weekend, and since I was busy in the pit, teammate Zach was doing the UCI men's field twitter. I had no idea it was valuable to someone. Strange to hear.
As I walked away crestfallen (something happens after the gun where I become a bit of an insane hyper-competitive freak), Barry Wicks walked past with the usual goofy smile on his face. "High five?" I asked. He put his hand up and it was so high I had to jump. And I missed. (Photo: Naz)