As many keen local hard-hitters are no doubt aware, TYG has been on fire this spring. He's been burning carbon around race courses across the continent, tuning himself up for the giant hurt-locker that is the Canadian calendar.
First stop was Baie-Saint-Paul, where TYG left a bit too much in his legs to go home happy, finishing an uncharacteristic 36th, and 6th U23. Whether it be dropping margarine from his diet, or acupuncture before bed, something clearly had to be done come Tremblant, the following weekend.
Thankfully, when TYG slunk over to his CSD-decal-adorned Team Car, he was not setting off for the 'blant all by his lonesome; Cody Canning, of 'BERTA (as he'd soon be christened), provided a most welcome shoulder for a cranky son to cry on, and his oilsand-hardened demeanor meant that even when TYG kicked and screamed in frustration, 'Berta could simply turn the other cheek and take it like a whipping boy. [Ed.--actually TYG didn't get particularly upset about his 36th, but that wouldn't make for much entertainment, now would it?]
The duo rolled into an awesome condo TYG sorted out months before, and began the lengthy process of synaptic pruning required to thoroughly brand a course upon a rider's frontal lobe. The condo assisted mightily in this pursuit, as the crew were actually sleeping only 100m from the course itself. All systems looked cued for shreddage.
'Chops touched down on Wednesday, and TYG tore town to Dorval in his then-bikeless TDI to being him back to the promised land.
The course we sessioned that afternoon, and an incredulous 'Chops stood back in awe at the next generation's mastery of new-fangled gadgets, as TYG organized his helmet cam to demonstrate to 'Chops' elderly ass what modern course scoping looks like. The lap was first taken at a relatively chill pace, followed by TYG and 'Berta leaving 'Chops in their dust as they committed a race-pace lap to flash memory.
After 2h on the mountain, CSD settled down into a nice creek for some 2 degree torture/leg constriction. This boon to recovery was neutralized by spending the rest of the afternoon tanning on the deck running BIG vs. Taylor Swift remixes--it was presumed that this was met with full approval from stuffy New York landed gentry vacationers, as they were never confronted at gun point.
Having not seen rain all week, the course was in amazing shape--a great mixture of steady climbing off the start, awesome singletrack and a steep mid-lap climb to crack things up a bit before the KILLER final descent back into the village; 4-5 solid minutes of hand-pumping, rim-bottoming, berm-g-ing glory.
CSD co-founder DA BURGE and lola rolled in to the 'Blant on race-eve; the cheery hour of 10:30 was not conducive to the morning's then-pending performance. Unfortunately The Burge wasn't registered either, and that combined with the fact that he'd been off his bike for weeks, wrapped up in his course, led to the decision he'd have a better time helping lola make the best of her first DH race (which went well--1st place Master!), and ensuring his boys got proper feeds.
TYG and 'Chops warmed up together an hour before the race, first sessioning the bike paths, and later the steep roads paralleling the village. 'Chops was especially concerned with not burning too many of his few matches in warm-up, and sat through staging (at the very back!) wondering just how he'd do on a month of panic-training. TYG was not phased. He got his lounge on before the staging, chatting up belle femmes with nary a care in the world, save to shoot a glance over his shoulder toward the crowd of riders every so often, as if to say (in the words of JT):
"I'm wakin, up in the morning
Hustling to the stage and fuckin performin'
Bustlin' through the hate and bustin' the door in
Lately nothing misses I must've been scorin'
Speaking of the Misses I'm watchin' 'em pour in
Just like a drink that I'm enjoying
I don't mean bottles - you're welcome to join in
Just look at me soarin' - Feeling like Jordan..."
'Chops listened intently to the announcer, hoping to be called anywhere in the top half, if for no other reason than a commissaire's sense of nostalgia. [Ed--right...] The 91-strong field tore off the line at high noon, with 'Berta in 2nd row, TYG in the top 1/3, and 'Chops eating dust at the very back.
'Berta was off to the best start of the crew, running hard with the front of the race, even taking the lead from Plaxton at one point. A massive dopamine influx got the best of him at this point, however, as by the top of the climb a fully schizophrenic state had developed between the godliness of mind and the physicality of tire. On the descent a violent break with mtb-reality occurred, his bike flying one way and his body the other. This proved difficult to recover from, during the heat of battle, and a now-dysfunctional Lefty didn't exactly lend a helping hand. 'Berta was outta' commission.
TYG, hammering just slightly behind 'Berta's psychedelic pace, was on fire. All the course scoping and helmet-cam vid watching was paying off, with all but one U23 left in the dust thrown up by his Geax AKA. He joyfully snatched feeds from an ecstatic Burge, and winked at Lissen [Ed--read about her on his blog) as he stomped the feed-zone climb and sliced up the descent for the 5th time to land 16th overall, and 2nd U23--a total turn-around from his experience in BSP, made even sweeter by the fact that Tremblant is one of the selection races for the U23 Would Championship Team. BAM.
'Chops actually had a decent race [Ed: !], rolling in 28th at 12 minutes down, proving his worry about the 80% rule was unnecessary, and setting the stage for a more confident Hardwood Hills this weekend.
On that note, Ya Crew convened at Hardwood this afternoon; the course is absolutely killer as we've come to expect. It's harder to race well at HH, as you really have to concentrate to hover on the edge of control while slicing big-ring singletrack for 2hrs--as opposed to mashing a 4 minute open climb, as in Tremblant. Everything is so tight and hardpacked that it always feels fast, whether at red-line or cruise. All the time the crew has spent in the Deep South over the years should come in handy, however, but as TYG said today, "they'll be no substitute for following a local wheel."
We'll see what happens.
On a random, motivational note, the Editor read about a damn interesting study today: endorphin levels were measured in rowers when rowing alone, and then when rowing in groups. The group members had double the pain threshold of the soloists, and likely their "high" was more intense as well. After a month of mostly solo early morning torture sessions, to battle neck and neck for two hours probably left me with endorphin stretch marks across my forehead--stoked to be able to do it again this weekend!
Wish us luck!
