We've taken this thing national.

This is it, this is the end of the session. I won’t be taking any more questions, and I think my attorney will second that notion.

1. The Elite National Championship
2. But that’s not what really counted…
3. Wrapping it up with a bow.

Last year seemed so cut-and-dried. Go, go, go… try, try, try. Clean up the bikes, do the laundry, do it again. This year was different. With a month off from traveling in November, and with me actually lining up to race a few times, my focus was pretty scattered. I admit I didn’t try nearly as hard this year. But things worked out anyway, and it was more fun for me.

The Elite National Championship
Sunday’s “big dance” was pretty visible from the pit. With his eleventh row start expectations were low, but the first time past the pit, Ben had moved up from his eighty-eighth position into the fifties- an amazing feat. He just kept battling it out until he was nearly up to where (I believe) he should have been, though I could see the riders near him were making passing difficult.

Officials were very aggressive in pulling people, and nearly 40 riders had been pulled into the pit by 40 minutes in. (Sidenote—can’t they find somewhere else to put pulled riders? They totally got in the way.) Time was ticking for Ben, and I let him know it. He was about 1/3 lap ahead of the lead riders but the race staff was taking no chances, and next time by he was pulled with 2 to go. I have no doubt he could have made up a few places had he gotten his proper 60 minutes, and realistically they could have left him out there another half lap without getting caught, but it was a good ride. It also meant that he never got to the part of the race where he starts slapping his ass and blowing kisses as he rides by the pit- my favorite part. No mechanicals. In the end, just 33 of the 120+ starters finished on the lead lap, and course on the bell lap looked eerily empty.

The only interesting thing I saw from the pit featured a cast of 6 in matching black Cannondale-CyclocrossWorld jackets. The announcer said that Powers had gone down hard. Soon, someone radioed in that Powers needed a bike. Indeed, Powers rode past the pit entrance and shouted “I need a bike!” The Giant team guys next to me laughed and said, “Well, you shoulda come get one, you only have two more bikes and six people here for ya.”

We all had a larf at that one, but Stu had a smile on his face. I heard someone in his crew quietly say, “That was smart of him. The other side of the pit is downhill and way faster.” Powers knew better than to lose seconds on the uphill side of the pit. Aha.

But that’s not what really counted…
I can say without a doubt, though, that the trip was far more rewarding off the course—meeting new friends and hanging out with folks we haven’t seen in a year or more, catching up and participating in the general tomfoolery for which this sport is known. Late nights in the hot tub, afternoons drinking and heckling on the pre-ride, 2x4 jenga, Boob Scotch, ocho ocho, and destroyer-driven entertainment. The Heenans are now our BFFs and are without a doubt the best people on earth that we could have ever done this trip with. And finally meeting Ben’s HRS/Rock Lobster teammates proved that we are quite fortunate to be in such amazingly good company. Oh, Lyne, here's (NSFW) one of what you've been searching for. And just for the record, I am likely to re-introduce myself to Myerson again and again, so let’s stop counting, eh?

(Photo: Andrew Lorente) I’m so glad I did that silly race on Saturday night, I wish I had been more sober to remember it. I mean, I was so drunk, I MISSED THE HANDUPS. WTF? I did take what looked like a plastic fork, and then thought to myself, what do I do with this? And then threw it away. (I wonder if it had Nutella on it, as the spoon I was offered later had?) Either way, it’s this mysterious part of my memory that involves lots of shouting, heckling, lights, beers, fogged-up glasses, and even a few pats on the ass while riding. I have to say the decibel levels topped CrossVegas without a doubt. I do remember that the people at the barriers were offering me the same heckles I dolled out earlier in the day, and it made me laugh till I missed a remount. It made the weekend super memorable for me, and I now have a title, and that’s pretty cool, even if it is a complete joke. And I got to actually ride the course, which I never get to do at these events.

Wrapping it up with a bow…
More than anything, Ben’s racing is a team effort, and we are grateful for all the help we get, in whatever form it comes. Being part of a real team for the first time, we really felt supported on this trip. Paul Sadoff is an amazing, fun, awesome guy with such great stories to tell, I wish we could have spent more time with him. His support of Ben’s racing has really made all of this possible, we can’t thank him enough. It took seeing the HRS/Rock Lobsters in action to sort of grasp what he’s built—truly a legacy of support for CX from the 6th year of his team dominating the CA CX scene to the sheer number of Rock Lobster frames speeding around the course under riders from all over the place. We are very, very lucky to be part of this crew, even if we rarely get to roll with them.

But this season’s cast of characters is too big for this small space. We thank the sponsors whenever we can, but the humans who helped don’t get a space on the kit but mean just as much. Ben benefited from John "Spud" Hattin's, Ryan Bontrager’s, and Mike Heenan’s mechanical help this season—stand-up guys who are always ready to help and don’t treat me like an idiot for asking. Traveling with Team Poppnan p/b Hemme was a hoot, and having Jessica Heenan around for some drinkin’ and sanity when the boys got all bikey made this trip superfun. Probably without knowing it, My Wife Inc was one of the greatest supporters we had this season, always at the races we were at with a tent and tools and a poorly placed “bathroom.” Thanks also to our housing hosts- Amber and Jason in Madison, Zach’s Mom in Cinci, Greg’s Aunt in Louisville, Cheryl and Richard in Portland (and Wes in Toronto, who took good care of Ben though I missed it). And Dad for watching Molly, of course.

What a dizzying adventure.

Now, the calm… I can finally catch up with my friends in town. One week till marathon training starts for me. In the meantime, best overhaul those bikes in time for the New Jersey State Fair, just seven months away. And maybe a little off-season viewing.