Mixed fortunes for Magnets...

I don't know how I feel this morning. I had a great weekend at St Albans for the DirtWorks 100km Classic, even though I DNF'd. We headed down Saturday, Scotty at the helm and Deano and myself as wingmen. Col, Kelly and Andrea were already there, and Andrea had secured a good spot to camp. She does so much of it I guess it comes naturally. Garry and John rolled in soon after, and Camp Magnet was in full swing. A few beers around the fire and some bad jokes and trivia then it was time to sleep, having to be at the start at 6.30. What an ungodly hour to be dressing in thin layers of lycra (well not me, as I forgot to bring my knicks! Luckily I had a pair of baggies with me). As our group rolled out, the feeling in my fingers, toes, face, well everywhere really, departed. It was like a road race as we headed out for about 8km on the tar... Col and Scott and myself were in the front group of about 15, then as the pace was pretty high for this early, I wasn't comfortable and dropped off the back, riding alone until reaching the first big climb of the day, where there were riders strewn out all over the hill, pushing, pulling, dragging themselves and their bikes to the top. I rode the middle section, and made up a bit of ground. At about 30km in I caught Scotty, but no sign of Col who must've been hammering, as we weren't hangin around, passing dozens of riders through the technical, rocky, sandy sections for about 10km. I wondered if I was pushing the pace a little too much, but I felt awesome and well within my limits. As we started to drop down the other side, some hack wouldn't get out of the way through a rocky section, and as he suddenly darted to the left, I hit a huge rock with my rear wheel, and the worst sound in the world of mountain biking filled my ears... hisssss, closely followed by 'F#*K'. As I was running tubeless, I figured the rock must've ripped a hole in the tyre, but in my hasty inspection I couldn't see any damage, so I ripped out the rim strip, getting covered in Slime sealant in the process...I looked like I'd crawled out of a swamp. The tube wasn't poking out of the tyre anywhere, so off I went, riding probably way too hard trying to make up the time I'd lost on Scott. I rode straight through the 50km transition, not bothering to re-fill or eat anything. My front brake rotor had been rubbing for a while, so I checked the wheel and all seemed fine... it still rubbed when I rode though, playing on my mind, making me believe it was slowing me down. There was so much going through my head... was I going too hard? Would I catch Scott and Col? Was I going to go hunger-flat because in 50km I had only eaten one flask of gel, and still had heaps of water left? It didn't matter as it turned out. At km 70 (well 67 something), barrelling down the long descentl into Shepherd's Gully, I hit a nasty rock garden section going full clip and not in any semblance of control, and I heard it again....hisss, F%*K. A walk to the road at the bottom to where the marshalls were, and another rider waiting for the sag wagon. "Big Brett, is that you!" It was Tom, the singlespeeder I had met at this race last year, when we had a sprint finish. Then he kicked my ass at the Highland Fling later in the year. He was missing a fair bit of bark, and had also had 2 punctures while running second in the SS class...hardass! He offered me his front tube, but I was mentally defeated by this stage, and we decided a ride in the ute back to the pub would be a better option. So this morning I feel pretty disappointed that I didn't finish, but I wonder if I would've blown up due my lack of eating and drinking. Probably...the guys said the last 30km were torturous, with the 1km hike-a-bike at 75km particularly nasty. That's where Scott caught Col, who was reportedly incoherent as Scott tried to gee him up. Deano, meanwhile, was carving it up in the Vets class, smashing 200 odd riders bar one to take second place by a matter of seconds. Nice one Deano! That man can ride. Looking at the shattered carcass of Col, and to a lesser extent Scott, and seeing all the riders coming in to the finish made me want to be shattered too, physically though, not mentally. But the beers in the sun with Tom helped ease the pain a little, and I was happy for the other guys. Oh I mustn't forget Andrea, who did the 50km race and finished 5th in her class! Way to go A! Her first race and all.... next year you've gotta do the ton though. And so do I! 70km (OK OK, 67) just doesn't cut it.