Te Little Whaka

Photo: Helen Brumby

I did the Whaka 25km short course last Sunday. Conditions were good - a little bit chilly, but not cold and with grey clouds overhead a reminder of the threat of rain later in the day. Preparation was poor - not much riding in the weeks prior and a 'just-in-time' approach to getting to the race start.

I arrived on the start line cold, but relaxed. I almost felt like I shouldn't have been there and would have been better off staying home. I certainly didn't feel like racing. It was a small turnout for the 25km course and I didn't have any trouble with the pace off the start line, except that I started too hard for my cold legs and idle brain. I soon felt flat (got passed on a climb like I was going backwards) and had to ease off the pace to find my rhythm. I found it about 10 minutes later but the speed never came back.
I rode the whole course feeling like I was going too slow. Every bump, hump, and obstacle I had to crawl over should have felt much less significant. I imagined the speed that the fast guys would have ridden at and how those same features of the trail would have felt like mere corrugations and irregularities to them. I felt like I should have been pushing harder, but it was too hard.

My brain disengaged and I found myself with a horrible song on repeat in my head - a picture of Garth Weinberg's black and white Niner with "Ebony and Ivory" wafting over my internal speakers. Ugh. I pushed on a bit harder hoping the effort would displace the song. It worked until I got tired.

Photo: Helen Brumby

I rode alone for almost the entire race - pretty unusual for an NDuro event. I enjoyed it though and didn't feel like I needed company. It was great to flow through the tracks unimpeded by other riders. I soon had unwanted company. On the first descent I was joined by the annoying friend "chain slap". What? I'm on a singlespeed - singlespeeds don't get chainslap! Either my chain had stretched in the last month of not riding, or my bottom bracket had slipped. I stopped, flipped my bike over and attempted to adjust it. No dice. The EBB was stuck firmly in place and would need a friendly kiss from the tappety-tap to get it free. I had to live with that noise for the remainder of those sweet downhills, all the way to the finish.

The noise of my bike meant I didn't hear Mike Northcott behind me - he swished past and disappeared from view without even puffing. He made it look and sound so easy!

I finished feeling not too bad, as if I had just found my all-day sort of groove and that perhaps I could keep riding. I returned to the car, scoffed a banana and pondered trying to fix my bike, or just ride it as it was (noisy). While I pondered, the temperature dropped and a rain shower came down. Decision made, I hunkered in the back of the car and changed out of my riding kit.

The rain didn't let up for long and once the call went out that prize giving was to be held at the Pig n Whistle at 5pm I knew I was best to scuttle home.

Marcus gleefully did a name and shame over the PA, although he said he was "acknowledging another 25km course finisher... Melanie Parsons... in a time of..." oh no, is he really going to tell everyone just how slow I was? "1 hour 58 minutes...". Damn. I achieved a sub 2-hour time (pitiful), and was about 7 minutes faster than last year (pathetic), and ended up third of 3 female SSers on the 25km course (=DFL).

Time to turn it up a notch.