Quebec

I liked Quebec, it's charm, the place we stayed, distinctly less American. But it's back through Montreal to Bromont in Old Gold, ya!!

Bromont is sweet, nestled below one of the smallest ski hills i've seen, it makes Thredbo look massive. Our accom was a nice little cottage positioned in the sticks with the promise of WiFi, sleeps 6 and self catering. It was one of those, but charming none the less. The owner was a delight, even offering her home internet just around the corner to compensate. We later found matresses in the wardrobe to sleep the extra two, but after we'd been there 4 of 6 nights with one of us on the couch. The upshot of theses things was our own private beach on a fresh water lake, with nice warm water and a "pedalo". You know, one of those pedal boats, old red. Great for recovery sessions and getting far enough out that you couldn't touch the slimey, weed covered bottom. Ewwww.

The course was to my liking, technical, singletrack, rocky and dry. A Canada Cup was held here not more than 3 weeks ago and it rained to hard you'd have thought it was a boat show. They had done extensive work on the tracks to improve drainage but it didn't look like it was warranted.

Until we went for an arvo roll and got bucketed on. Right, now I see. The humidity alone is enough to make you think it's Illanbah and if it didn't rain to break it i'm sure we would've needed oxygen.

So prepare for a boat show we did, mud tyres, a mud guard that looked like i'd won the meat tray at the local and rain jackets were in order. Till Friday. Then it stopped, dried up and I was thankful to be thinking about putting the dry wide tyres back on as i'd had some problems with flats during practice. Slippery in the wet, but the roots and rocks don't get any softer. Ideally a 2 inch mud tyre is the go. Lesson learnt for next time.

Race day and it was muddy for the juniors, dry for the women, then on que 1hr before the mens start it opened up and the scurry was made back to mud tyres. And it didn't stop. I wasn't discouraged by it at all, it's part and parcel of riding, and having ridden the course in the wet I was comfortable, even finding a few nice lines on the D's (descent) to make up time.

I started much better and felt better too, coming through lap one in 70th feeling OK, having started 82nd. The first climb was exactly that, a climb as we ran the entire thing (which destroyed the course) due to the mud and the size of the field/lack of a start loop. Starting lap 2 it's like my legs packed it in, again. What the hell? I didn't think I went out that hard, but maybe I was wrong? Either way I was sliding backwards off the hill without a trace. Having only lost 3:30 on the first lap I had a positive outlook, then despair, then frustration, then anger, none of which made me magically go faster. My D was good, smashing the good lines, railing corners and making ppl look stupid. But I lost so much time on the climb that again, come end of lap 4 I was pulled.

I always knew that to achieve what I set out to do maybe wasn't realistic and I was prepared for what happened, I thought. But when it actually happens and you fail to realise something you set out to do and had been set on for so long, it's hard to take. I don't feel like i've wasted my time, on the contrary, I'm sure i'll come away from this the better for it. But to realise the bitter disappointment by being dragged off the course, and knowing I can race better than I did, that I can be better than my results suggest, that cuts.