Trail & Error at Tamarancho

[Carl Sanders]

I should have registered earlier. One step behind seemed to be the pattern ahead for me.

Missing the online registration deadline, I petitioned the Race Director Julia for a spot in the race. Jim argued on my behalf that I could be swapped with Arno who was unable to make the race. Julia was kind and let me in!

Warming up, my body felt stiff. I had taken a hard tumble the week before and was still letting the wounds heal and the confidence rebuild. I rolled up to the start already bandaged and bruised. Shuffling my way through the various classes, I took my assumed start position.

To my dismay, I had ended up at the back of the pack for my class start. The pattern repeats. Attempting to make up time and lost positions, I went full tilt down the fire road, passing anyone I could before the first single track bottleneck.

Feeling strong, I motored up Dead Heifer, passing a few more riders. Onto the single track, I tried to relax and let the course flow. This tact didn't work. I must have pushed too hard at the start, for I now seemed cross-eyed and bashed my way through the narrow single track.

On the second lap a rider went down in front of me on a tight ascending switch-back. I stopped, faltered and tumbled over, banging my leg and arm again. Now, even more bleary-eyed in pain, I pedaled on, confidence dwindling fast. On the decent down Serpentine, I picked a bad line through the only rocky section near the top, tumbling once more over the bars into the brush. More impacts to old wounds and now my prescription sunglasses were covered in dirt. I knew only a couple riders in my class were still out in front, so I soldiered on, confidence almost gone, technique getting worse.

Attempted to maintain the pace through the third lap and final Heifer climb, hoping to reel in the lead riders. No luck. Passing the many other lapped riders began to slow me down even further. Then, I washed out on the final cruise down B-17 extension, picking a bad line over a soft outside edge. Maybe I shouldn't have tossed those muddied prescription shades to Scott earlier?. Motored down the last fire road descent back into camp, no one else around, miraculously finishing third in my class.

Not my best race day. No serious bike damage and with a few more bandages, the body will recover. The confidence, however, may take a bit longer.

I must wait yet another year to race a better day at the Tamarancho Dirt Classic.