Preparation or perseverance?

Michael Burleigh reflects on an ill-fated day at Valmont Bike Park.

Like all serious cyclists, I pride myself on being prepared. In fact, the preparation aspect is one of the things that I love most about cycling. I like preparing the bike for race day, I take satisfaction in eating right because it prepares me to get faster. I even enjoy riding the riding the trainer all winter because I know I'll be prepared for racing in the spring.

So naturally, I showed up to race Valmont on Sunday with ample time to prepare for the race. Earlier that day, I prepared some beet juice so that I could drink it on the drive to Boulder, thereby consuming it in the optimal window of 2-3 hours before the race. Before that, I had prepared and consumed a large and balanced breakfast and a medium sized lunch, so as to be optimally fueled for the race. So, as I said, I arrived at the race venue in plenty of time.

I parked, and casually made my way to the registration truck. Of course, I had preregistered, prepayed, and presigned my waiver, so I only needed to pick up my number and my timing chip. The friendly woman at registration told me that the computer showed I still had a timing chip from the last race. "That's correct" I said, but not to worry, being a crackerjack planner, I had put that chip in my race bag weeks before when I noticed that I still had it. "I'll be right back" I said. It's OK, she said, I'm not supposed to give you the new chip until I get the old one from you, but I trust you. "Makes sense" I thought, she can see I'm on top of my game. I went back to my car, pinned my number, changed, grabbed the old timing chip from my bag and headed back to registration. I slowly coasted past the window of the registration truck with the timing chip in my outstretched hand. I made eye contact with the woman in the truck. She looked quizzical at first, but then she smiled as she recognized me. "Oh good! You're back." Yeah, you were right to trust this guy. I smiled back. "Timing chip sorted," I thought as I rode away to preview the course.

I saw my new teammate Spencer warming up on the course and I rode behind him to soak up as much bike handling and line selection know-how as possible. "I like the outside line on that one" Spencer said. Mmmm-hmmmm, I think I like the outside line on that one too. How was race day going? Like clockwork. I exited the course to finish my warm-up on the road, where I encountered a friend and former college teammate, Brad, also warming up. "Awwww yeah! Nice kit, dude" he said. "Yeah, thanks! I'm guest riding for Evol the rest of the season," I said with more than a little pride in my voice. We rode together and chatted. As we rode, we came upon the imposing figure of Ken Benesh going the other direction. Ken gave a me a casual wave and a nod. You see that Brad? Yep, I'm pretty much boys with all the best cross racers now, because, what else?

I lined up behind Brady Kappius. Brady "Holeshot" Kappius as the announcer called him. "You genius," I thought to myself, "that's basically a front row spot." I looked down at my chain to make sure I was in just the right gear to jump on "Holeshot's" wheel and make that early selection of top guys. 42-28, yep. My eyes wandered to the awkward crumple of Brady's left sock. He should fix that lumpy sock, I thought, so not pro.

Actually, that's just his timing chip.

TIMING CHIP!!!!!!

My mind flashed to the timing chip sitting on the front seat of my car. The new timing chip. The one I needed in order to be placed. "ONE MINUTE" The race official said. Is it better to potentially do well but not have it count, or be guaranteed to not do well and get credit for it? I lifted my bike up over my head to climb over the tape. "You giving up this spot?" No, I'll be back for it.

I threw open my car door. There it is, still in the tiny zip lock bag. Ziptie? HURRY. Just put in your pocket!! No pockets, skinsuit. Down the back then, like a water bottle. Good, go!

When I got back to the start grid, there was only a cloud of dust waiting for me. I looked up to see Danny Summerhill and Spencer running up the staircase. Perfect, half a lap down to guys I've never beaten. I completely missed my start. Is this one of those anxious dreams? What's next — I show up to work only to find I'm naked? I stood up out of the saddle and started chasing. "Michael Burleigh only has 80 guys to pass to get to the front of this field" the announcer said. Well, when you put it that way it doesn't seem that bad.

For the first half lap, I was alone. Then I came upon the back end of the MM 35+ field. I began passing, everywhere I could. Through dozens of riders. I let the panic of missing my start fuel me. Almost done with the first lap. I hit something hard in the grass with the front tire. Someone's water bottle is spraying me? Nope, that's sealant spraying from my front tire. Awesome. Maybe it'll seal. I cross the line with a very soft front tire and a strong self-loathing. At the top of the hill, a hard right hander. I dive inside to make another frantic pass. My soft front tire crumpled and I hit the dirt hard on my right side. The riders I just passed were not impressed. Who can blame them?

My tire was completely flat. I rolled under the tape and looked at my scrapes. Is it better to finish with an unimpressive result or DNF with a decent excuse? I hustled back to the car. I threw open my car door and grabbed my only spare cross wheel (mud tire). I hadn't bothered to put it in the pit because who flats at Valmont? I added some air to my mud tire, took a drink and headed back to the futile task of chasing down guys that are faster than me. I sheepishly passed many of the same riders for the second time. Avoid eye contact. As I rode, I could feel the timing chip slipping down my back.

This just keeps getting better.

With four laps to go, Grant informed me that the single speed rider ahead of me was racing the open. "FOCUS and you can still get a couple points" he said. I was focused. My focus was centered on preventing the timing chip from becoming one with me. The rest of the race proceeded without incident. I was only able to claw back a few more open riders, finishing 19th. I peeled the timing chip off my lower back. At least I had won that battle.

Perhaps the only thing as important as preparation is perseverance. In fact, is perseverance more important than preparation? Yes, because in the end, perseverance won the day. Well actually, perseverance finished 19th.