a shameless crush was born last year when the usgp came to town and a good friend of ours (also happens to be usgp promoter) thrust some steno pads & pens into our hands with the instructions to "go into the press tent and pretend to be press" - because basically, around here, if its not a race with a horse in it, its not worth covering - and the press tent was shamefully empty. so my husband and i sat in the tent wearing press badges and were totally enthralled by all the pro cx racers we found ourselves sitting next to. ok, my husband was busy being enthralled by wendy simms and my eyes were glued on the pretty boy in red hamming it up for the cameras.
the pretty boy in red was joachim parbo. lets just say i was slightly obsessed last year. did a lot of cheering and cowbell ringing for the dane.
the dane is here in my town. and the dane held a 'cross clinic at my 'cross course tonight. hello. sign me up.
so. we're at the cross course. and its raining. for like, the first time in 40 days and 40 nights. the dane in red calls everyone over, and does some talking. i dont know what he says. he's too pretty. and red is a very distracting color for shorts. but then, he says - "put the bikes down, time for warm up". i think maybe we are going to do some calisthenics or something. nope. he just yells "follow!" and takes off running. and so, we all run after the dane. down the muddy hill, around the cones he has set up, up the little slope, down into pit, up little hill, around cones ... you get the picture. actually, i wish someone had gotten a picture - it had to be hysterical. all i thought was "hey! running?! i can do this!"
we do a whole bunch of drills, the first ones of which involved crazyfuckingtightturns around some cones that are placed freakishly close to each other. you know that whole thing about - looking where you want to go - don't look where you don't want to go, cause that's where you'll go? yep. so true.
cause i'm looking at the cone, thinking "i don't want to run into that cone", and as i'm thinking this i'm staring at the cone and then of course i crash right into the cone right as the dane is watching and i crash and fall in dog poop. dog. poop. only i had no idea i fell in dog poop until we were on drill number 3 and i looked at my leg and i thought "that looks like dog poop" and i wiped at it with my glove & smelled my glove and yes indeedy that is dog poop on my leg. and while i am looking for leaves to wipe it off, the dane is demonstrating how to dismount while careening down the muddy hill into a tight turn with a run up and if you blink you will miss his dismount. and i missed it cause i had dog poop on my leg.
now it was off the the sand pits. we all gather round the dane in the red shorts for a demonstration and a chat about sand pits and then we all take our turns through the pit. i bit it the first time and the dane is screaming at me "get up! get up!". (cause i'm about to get run over by a kabillion people). i may have bit it the next time too. another time, as i am coming through; this crazy dane in red is screaming at me: "no fucking way! no fucking way are you coming in here that slow!" another time he is screaming something else at me and i don't care how pretty he is anymore and i hate those red shorts and i wonder why i ever had a schoolgirl crush on this crazy screaming dane and i don't like him anymore. and i scream "shutup!" right back to him to which he responds "i will not shut up! go faster!" i made it through the pit that time. (my husband is convinced that getting me fired up & pissed off is the only thing that will make me go faster). good god, do i have to go through this pit and be screamed at again? but, like a lemming, around i go ... all the while thinking: higher cadence, floatfloatfloat, pedalpedalpedal, trytolookgoodinfrontofthedane ... and i am trying to go as fast as hell and i hit the sand, and midway through start to lose speed ... next thing i know - the dane has got his hands on my ass. i repeat - the dane has his hands on my ass. and he's pushing me through the sand and up the hill and i yell "thanks!" as i roll away. and i think:
the danes' hands on my ass totally makes up for all the yelling at me.
i can be so easily swayed.
there were more drills. dismounts, remounts. he told me to lower my saddle one centimeter. and he told me to keep practicing. (and in a low moment, i wondered if this was danish for "you suck"). i got some great tips on remounts and i got to practice riding in the pouring rain and mud. and i got a nice big push through the sand from the dane. and this is english for his hands were all over my ass. it was a fun night.