Shit happens. Murphy's Law. C'est la vie.
No amount of patriotism, hope, training, and all the other things I used to prepare for Houffalize could stop the inevitable. Things break, and that's just how it goes. When you have an essay due at midnight, the internet will always crash at 11:45, giving you just enough time to throw a fit before realizing the futility of your efforts. The car will always break down on the deserted road, miles from civilization. The bike will always break in the biggest race of your career. But you never prepare for the inevitable, that's human nature. "Let's prepare for everything that won't happen, only to forget about the one thing that will happen." Existentialism at it's best.
Houffalize is a small village in the middle of Belgium, surrounded by hills and logging roads. A beautiful place, but evidently boasting a population of less than 1000. However, this place is known throughout the world as the host of arguably the biggest, most infamous, loudest, craziest, most insane mountain bike race in the World. The town seems to be built AROUND the race course, and not visa-versa. Everything is easy access to the grueling cross country course, and there are even loud speakers throughout the town that blast music and live results during the races. It's a village centered on one weekend in the year, and all of Belgium (and most of Europe) is here to see it. Here's a look at our hotel:
Let's take a look at the course, why don't we: Take the walk -
http://freecaster.tv/mtb/1007825/nissan-uci-mtb-wc-09-houffalize-xco-course-walk
Two problems I have with this video: 1. Riders are preriding the race course in the vid, so not going as fast, and there aren't 250 people on course, like in the race. And 2. Those downhill sections? They're steeper than you think. Those uphill sections? Worse than the downhill. And those rooty technical sections? The camera makes them look lame, when in fact, they are so NOT lame. Come and ride the course with me sometime, if I ever get to come back for a second chance here in the mountain bike world cup capital of the world.
Any questions about the intensity of the course? Just ask Rowena Fry from Australia...
The race. 5 laps plus one start lap (start lap was a half a lap of the regular lap, plus a killer start climb - about 500 meters of 20% road). Julien Absalon pushed the pace out of the gates. I started 205th out of about 220 starters, which meant WAR on the first descent. We started fast. Go find a 20% grade, take your bike, and SPRINT up it giving 150% - for about 2 minutes.
In the first descent, I took many risks to get a better placement. On many occasions, we had to wait for the 200 riders in front of us to organize before we could ride - sometimes we waited around for minutes. The whole time, guys were cutting the tape (aka, cheating big time), punching, pushing, fighting for that open space. I didn't get very bad in the mix this time, I just rode my own race... and then.... it was over. In the first descent of the start loop, I bent my chain and several cogs on my front chainrings. Luckily, Joey, the USA mechanic, was waiting at the tech zone not 100 yards from when I realized my mechanical, but there wasn't much we could do. Joey had to remove the chain completely in order to get the knots out of it. To this day, we still can't really explain what happened. I was in the right gear, and I did NO shifting on the downhill - however, only those two things could have resulted in this problem. Frustrated? Me too.
I had been racing for only about 10 minutes. However, I jumped on my bike and raced. I had lost about 3 minutes to the BACK of the field, but was on a hellbent goal to catch up and get some laps in. However, my chain was bent and the drive train was busted, and climbing was like trying to get a car to start in 3rd gear. The chain slipped with every pedal stroke, causing me to bust my knees against the head tube several times. I was on a rampage, riding like a lunatic, against a bike that wouldn't respond. Through the two climbs and the two descents, I rode all the way to this climb:
I was far behind by now, more than 5 minutes... but the most amazing thing happened on this climb, and I will never forget it. Thousands of fans lined the course, 5-10 deep in some areas, taking photos and screaming their heads off. When riders talk about Houffalize, this is always the section that they comment on. I climbed the first switchback, and for the first time during my racing career, I heard the fans... Usually I zone out to any noise, but this group was so amazingly loud... The grinding of my bike was drowned out by the raucous. On the second switchback, the Swiss National Team was watching, and one of them yelled my name; after that, everything changed. People were screaming my name, people that didn't know me, people that didn't care how far behind I was, people that just loved the sport and were there like a bunch of insane football fans. They scream in unison, "Hop, hop, hop" ("go go go") and they scream my name. My mechanical was a blessing in disguise - I got the crowd all to myself for the 2 minute ascent, and I wouldn't want it any other way. That moment will surely last in my memory as the most incredible in my whole mountain biking career.
When I reached Marc at the second tech zone, I had to pull out. I was going to trash my bike (I already had, but didn't know the full extent of it until I got the bill from Küttel Radsport, my local Cannondale shop, later that week), and my body was toast from fighting a broken machine. I raced for a little over 20 minutes. C'est la vie.
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