OZ Trail US Cup
After a few short days back in Durango, it was time to hit the road and make our way across the country to Arkansas for the first two US Cups in Fayetteville. The drive was long and we were bored, but luckily I had a good source of entertainment (Cole) and lots of school to get done.
The Thursday before race #1 we headed out on course for our very first recon. It was a sunny, windy day and the course was in perfect condition. About 20 minutes into our ride we came upon the first drop, a man-made rock garden feature with a 5ish foot drop into a pavement landing. I’d ridden sketchier drops and features before, this one was beautifully made, so after a couple looks I decided to hit it. The wind kept picking up and there were heavy gusts now at times. I may have also been a bit distracted by the crowds of riders beginning to gather around the feature and mull over the lines and wanted to get out of there. I entered the drop as a huge gust of wind came, not fully focused, and went over the bars, crashing to the ground. The wind was knocked out of me, I was bleeding everywhere, and I just remember thinking “what have I done.” The most frustrating part of this crash was how avoidable it was - a small mistake, being un-focused, and an unexpected gust of wind from behind.
I was lucky to be able to get up and walk away from this crash, miraculously no broken bones or concussion, but a gnarly deep scrape on my hip and right leg that was shredded from the pavement landing. Thoughts of riding that day washed away as I realized racing could also be a far away thought. I spent the next few days resting, taking care of my wounds, and trying to heal as fast as possible. I had the incredible help and support from Cole’s parents who had come into town to watch us race to help me clean and bandage my wounds every night. The hardest part of these first few days was feeling so helpless limping around.
My Short Track event the next day (Friday) was out of the question, and all I could do was rest and hope to be ok by the main event on Sunday. On Saturday, I got out on my bike to try and ride course, but the jarring bumps and rocks were too painful and I knew even racing on Sunday was not going to happen. On Sunday I was good enough to ride up to the venue, and with no concussion confirmed, I was 100% there to support Cole in his race. I can’t say it was “fun” to be at a race and be sidelined, but being there for Cole made it that much better.
The next five days I slowly got back into riding a little longer each day and trying to heal as fast as possible for race #2 on the second weekend. Finally on Thursday I felt good enough to get back on course. The drop I crashed on was like an annoying dark cloud hanging at the top of the course. I had been having stress dreams about it all week and was itching to just conquer the dang thing. I knew it was the smoothest, easiest drop I could hit, but getting over the mental barrier of imagining my crash every time I rolled up to it was a challenge. So I just focused on riding every other part of the course as smoothly as possible before facing the drop at the end. Finally, Cole and I went over to the drop, I didn’t even stop and look at it because I knew that wouldn’t help, and I followed him off it. That feeling of relief after hitting it smooth was so overwhelming I was almost laughing.
That weekend I was able to line up for Short Track and the Cross Country events. The racing itself was OK, a bit of a shock to the system after no intensity in training, but mostly I was just grateful to be able to line up and give it my best on the day. I’m healing up well and getting ready for a big block of Europe racing starting with a Swiss Cup on May 2!