Winter Shart Tarck '26: Race Three

This year, the Winter Shart Tarck Series has offered up the full gambit of conditions in the first four races.  We had a day in the mud, not one but two postponed races in a row due to ice then snow, a cold AF go at it on frozen trails, and then this past weekend's back-to-back suns out/guns out Saturday followed by racing in the rain on trails that looked like rivers and ponds on Sunday

I came into Saturday's race with a slightly more positive outlook on the world than I did a whole week ago.  Despite my desire to ride my bike the five miles to the race old school style, I drove over early so I could take a few runs at the A-Line climb option between the earlier races to see if I could use it.

I could not.  

I still suck.  I just don't consistently have the power needed at a clutch moment on the climb to keep the bike rolling.  

Whatever.

I'm wearing new shoes today because someone was selling some high end, super-stiff jobbers they'd won in a raffle at a cheap enough price.  I mean, I'm gonna run outta yellow shoes eventually, so I might as well start getting used to a different shoe option (black, boring).  I had a bad feeling that clipping into the pedal on the first try might not be as intuitive as I'm used to, and I'm correct.  I miss clipping in until the third pedal stroke, and I'm off the back of where I was wanting to be going into the woods.

It's a seven lap race, so keep in mind, when what happened exactly where isn't really stored in my memory when my brain was operating on 50% of its needed oxygen for full processing power for thirty five minutes.  The following is based on a true story tho.

I managed to move up on the first lap and also witness Jason taking the A Line ahead of me and opening up a huge gap over the riders taking the B Line that were just in front of him on the lead in.  He's close enough in the overall points that I have to be concerned about him, but damm... he's gonna get a multiple second advantage over me every time he cleans the A Line.

I catch up and get around him, which only means that he gets to use my tiny draft on the gravel and pavement... and we repeat the same arrangement on lap two.  He passes me and develops a gap when he takes the A Line, and I have to close it back down, get out front, try to drop him, and he gets to use my diminutive draft again.

Third lap, and I realize I have a weapon... if I wanna use it.  Jason is right on my wheel on the gradual climb up to the options... and I slow waaaay down, robbing him of his precious, much-needed momentum to nail it up A Line, forcing him to follow me up the B Line.

"Dammit, Dicky," he said lovingly.

Well, Jason is a friend, and while race is race, I decide I won't do that to him again.  Also, I know that titty-dicking around with him back here fighting over fourth place is doing nothing to close down the gap on Thürd... I mean Türd, and smart frands would work together to do just that... key word being "smart."

photo cred: Pisgah Paparazzi

The race wasn't necessarily decided by our occasional intermingling with lapped traffic, but it certainly impacted it.  I got caught up behind someone going up B Line on the second to the last lap while Jason was perfection personified on A Line, and the match I planned on using to deliver a death blow effort was wasted getting back to his wheel.  Pretty sure on the final lap, we were both slowed down on the lead in, and he went for it anyways, despite having no momentum... and finally failed for the first time.

And that was the race for fourth place, done and dusted.  Dammit.  One top three would be nice, but that's the way this cookie done went and crumbled.