Dear Sven Nys,
I'm kneeling in my cycling man-cave in the back of my garage. I'm about to light the wick. I’m not crazy. That’s what we cyclocrossers do when times get tough. I believe in you. I’m certain there are cycling Gods. Right? Otherwise a Google search of the phrase wouldn’t turn up hundreds of blogs and websites addressing general cycling deities. Of course, you, Sven Nys, top the list when the term “Cyclocross Gods” is searched. So, Dear Sven Nys, with seven OVCX races left on the docket, enough for a virtual redo to the start of the season and to qualify for an overall series placing, pretty please with Dugast on top, God of Cyclocross, tell me a heavenly chorus of cowbells will ring for me through November and December.
Pozzato’s tattoo reads: “Only God Can Judge You.” Obviously someone’s looking after him. Of course with all things cyclocross concerning me, I turn to you. I know you’ve been watching me from your team RV in the sky. You saw it happen. At the first race of the season I rolled a tubie on an off camber hillside. Immediately, I heard your deep accent thunder across the sky of the Kings CX venue, “You Mahst Use Fresh Gloo Avery Season.” Lesson learned. Saving a buck doesn’t play in cross. I get it. While registering for Fisherman’s Park in Louisville I sausage fingered the sign-up and clicked on the wrong race which cascaded into a whole mess of issues. As of today I am still not scored in the race. I know it was your way of saying, “Faht Feengers Mean You Mahst Loose A Few Kilos.” Done. At USGP, my seat post broke on the first lap. It was my fault again. I don’t blame the EC70 carbon. The post got stuck in the seat tube over last winter and heroic measures had to be taken to remove it obviously resulting in stressing the carbon weave. Understood, I should’ve learned the same lesson from my tubie rolling that saving a buck doesn’t cut it.
Well, that’s three things. I’m done. That’s how it works right?
From now till I hang up the bike in the garage, I thought I’d be blessed with laser quick clip-ins at the start line, the Nys heavenly light would illuminate the best lines on the course, guys who normally smoke me would have mechanicals, bonk, wreck and leave me to snag a piece of that tasty Elite Masters top-ten payout pie. But no.
Getting ready for cross practice last night, I noticed my Challenge Fango tubie has a tear in the sidewall. Really? C’mon Sven. I’ve paid my dues in tears, sweat, snot, bruises and good old cash money. For the love of Jean Robic don’t make me light this ridiculous Sven Nys prayer candle.