Warning – Is a MEGA post today and alarmingly, it contains XC Racing, heavy doses of sarcasm and semi nudity of the nasty #fuckIdontwanttoseeit kind.
What an exciting subject line for a post! WOW… Yes, so much to feast on with that one isn’t there… Its more exciting to focus on the racing action (even if its our less favoured discipline…), but first lets deal with the coronation street drama element shall we?
Whilst I wasn’t racing (no bike, too unfit, just want to ride DH etc etc blah blah excuses x 100), this was the first time in 3 years I had been to a race in Asia and wasn’t wearing a Cannasia T shirt or kit. Yes, I still love my Evo road bike, so it may be confusing as to how this has occurred. Well, I think that its best to let this years Tour de France champion sum it up, which he did recently so eloquently with this beautiful quote:
“The mother of the idiot is always pregnant….”
With that cryptically taken care of, lets get back to the 2014 Singapore National MTB Champs! The good news was that everyone was being catered for here, even those in the Fat/Cunt bike category if you so felt like embarrassing yourself for an hour or so:
Our new Trailmix/CyclingTraining.CC Race team hybrid set-up (being a start up we’re allowed to pick and choose a little) only had a roster of two for the day, but it was the only two required… Yes, representing in Masters was the Goat, previously seen in the Genting Hatefest and in Elite we had the Prince of cycling lining up for us in an Epic coup, The Welsh Assassin – Yes, recently seen decimating Japanese KOM’s. So, we had quality as opposed to quantity, AKA – A defining difference between a CLUB and a RACE TEAM, and, fuck, we even had a tent! Memo for next time, bring chairs… One of the drawbacks of being a start up:
Still, we weren’t there to sit around talking about altitude tents, we were there to win some races. Almost as personally upsetting as not having chairs to cringe is when some fucker goes and parks a Specialized in the middle of your Crackenfails, the cheek of people really:
Meanwhile, ever the Welsh Gentleman, the Assassin took the time to help give directions to a lost German tourist who was looking for the Glass coffee table convention… Whilst using his best History Channel knowledge in an attempt to explain the difference between an Epic and a Scalpel without personally upsetting anyone:
Right then, enough foreplay… It was time to fuck. Yes, race time…
Masters race – 6 Laps
So, to get things cracking right in the heat of the day, the 35 to whatever age category were kicking things off with what appeared to be the biggest field of the day. Right from the gun the Goat decided to take things into his own hooves and make an escape, not wanting to get bogged down in any freak N geek show:
In fact the Goat in his usual “I look like I’m dying”/Aussie Battler style didn’t drop below 3rd all day long. So we got to see a lot of this:
Meanwhile, back in the TECH ZONE, which was about as technical the race track, there was a lot of confusion and hype going down. Yes, it can get pretty feverish in a #AmateurbutIwantittobePRO MTB XC race, and don’t you just hate it when your Lefty comes undone…
Or, when there is so much to process you can’t decide if you want to get dropped putting on your Camelbak or keep that bottle in your back pocket… Decisions, decisions…
No such drama for the CyclingTraining.CC outfit, we had MAAAAAD bottle changes happening (assuming there is such a thing), yes, there is no need to run around with your head on fire, just keep calm and pass that fucking bottle YO:
The Masters race actually managed to throw up some pretty tight action, a group of 3 away for about 5 of the 6 laps, trading blows and foxing each other waiting for someone to snap… Eventually the SPY wilted a little, aided by his early morning Tequila slammer hi jinx… Thus leaving two out the front to decide who took the title – Yip, it was battle of the Long-Termers. I was just hoping that Goat’s bike would hold together to be honest, shit these things make a racket, not to mention the rear pads falling out and the shock mounts coming undone:
And then, on the last lap – Here is the moment where the ‘Capra aegagrus hircus’ hammer went down. As straight as a fucking Geelong punch in the face up this section. Check out those gritted teeth! I was suitably encouraging:
The competition looked broken… Ragged and it was OVER… The Goat sailing through the last half of the lap to nail that chicken dinner and thus open the new team account for the day – Booooya:
Big ups Goat, not a natural on the MTB, so good to see him fight it out and put those crashes and mechancials behind him. Respect to the SPY as well, 3rd was so close to being 2nd on basically 2 or maybe 3 training rides? Goes to show that an ability to suffer like hostage in the Afghan mountains stands you in excellent stead in bike racing.
Question was, what would the afternoon deliver and could the boys go 2 from 2?
Elite men – 8 Laps
If you EVER line up at school to pick your cycling team from everyone standing around in front of you and you’re lucky enough to pull out paper to the other persons rock, then the first words uttered out of your mouth like a spell as you extend your finger towards him are a no-brainer:
Oh yes… And as per usual, he was in full flight with his
OCD meticulous PRO level prep:
The Elite dudes kicked off for 8 laps at a scorching 2.30pm, I wanted to cramp up just spectating… Not a chair lift in sight either, had me dry retching more than once. As did the start of the Elite race, fuck I hate the starts of MTB races, its a total fuck fest and you just KNOW that the guy on a hard tail trying to cut you up on the first corner is going to vaporise halfway through the first lap. Mind you, if you’re the WA, you know that everyone will ultimately be eviscerated. Here he calmly negotiates the melee:
And…. Half a lap into it, there were two… Some may call that Epic? Must be what happens when you use your brain (fuck these are awful XC puns):
And just, as inevitably as a lap dance costing you more than the $50 its advertised for, the Welsh Assassin was soon into the lead and smoothly and serenely eating up the terrain like one of my afternoon assaults on the Tea cake HQ. And then… HORROR… I was standing at the halfway point when I heard a PFFFFFFTTTTT and a FUUUUUCK in quick succession! NOOOOOOO! The WA lost last years race to a major tire melt down, so surely it wouldn’t happen twice in a row?!
Yes, he had burped the front and was now rolling with 10 PSI. Whilst I got busy panicking and freaking out like it was my first blue light disco slow dance, the WA calmly pushed on, instructing me to get the pump and be ready. Fucking PRESSURE, or lack thereof if you like. When he came into the bad ass tech zone, I was more unhinged than he was! Like any good captain he told us motherfuckers to CHILL like little Fonzy’s and just pump the front back up.
Its better to lose 20 seconds than the whole race, so pump I did and in a flash he was gone, taking all but half a lap to regain the lead. I then realised that I was so feral I forgot to turn on the Go PRO and thus missing the best footage all day like a giant cock with feet. Still, we were fucking all over it again with our bottle action:
Lap 5 and the WA was doing his impersonation of a cruise missile… Whilst I take the piss out of the XC scenario, it is impressive to watch when you see a rider of this calibre making it look so fucking easy as he punches out consistent 8 minute lap times. He was going so beautifully he even had time to give us a dirty fisting, which was the theme of the day:
The gap to second steadily grew… 30 seconds… 35… 45… 50 plus… and very soon the last lap was ON. Well, that was an issue actually as the bell man was asleep. I suspect that it was just the WA was too fucking fast, but confusion did set in. When I told him it was his last lap, he simply didn’t believe me. Nervously I didn’t believe me either, even though the intel was direct from the race director… Much double checking went down and then before I even had the chance to get the Go PRO on, the Prince of Singapore XC MTB was giving it the pump across the line!
Being a bit of a history buff, the WA wasn’t going to take any chances, quickly peeling around to make sure he didn’t have to do another lap (secretly confessing he was disappointed he didn’t get to pump in another 8 minute lesson on how to ride an MTB cross country):
And so, another win in the bag for the day and another Nationals MTB race getting the head shot from the Assassin… Golden shit and as per how it rolls at the World Cup (now I’m a fucking expert), the champion never cleans his own machine:
Meanwhile, the Elite destroyer decided that it was indeed Onsen time:
Oh man, the downsides of winning races… Sticking around for prize giving… Sigh… Here’s the Masters podium, proving once again that when you’re in, you’re in… And when you’re out, you don’t exist:
And the award for best cap goes to? BOOM:
Well done boys, great riding for a well earned pair of wins… Killing it on track and making it an entertaining arvo. So fucking exciting I ripped my shorts open when I got a little excited… Damn MTB stiffy’s….
Stay tuned for the XC Porn video to come… Should be EPIC!