I swear the Rocky Mountains have their own gravitational pull. It's good I-70 is basically downhill all the way to the mississippi river, otherwise I'm not sure I would have made it back.
All the races took place in Golden, just east of the front range. The weather was amazing. Hot, but without St. Louis' you-can-cut-the-air-with-a-knife humidity. The water was snowmelt, and swims were a shock to the system. I swam out of my C1 several times in the first few days.
In US Cup 3, I finished with a DNF after a swim at gate 10. The course was actually a great level for me. Clearly challenging, but not overwhelming. I set my sights on the race the following weekend.
During the week, I had a chance to travel west into the mountains. We ran brown's canyon on the Ark. It was stunning, and was wonderful to just run a river. As usual, it left me hungry for much, much more. I also got a chance to scout a few of the famous class V colorado creeks... I'd never seen whitewater like that before in my life. Incredible. I was able to train on a course in Salida, and on gates hung on the Platte River in downtown Denver. Several Junior Olympic events also took place during the week. A highlight was watching the cadet and junior C1 playboats rock the hole with pirouettes and even a phonics monkey. Okay, I don't really know what that is. But it looked very cool.
By the second weekend, I'd figured a few things out. I was in a different boat, and comfortable on the water. Staying upright was no longer my biggest concern -- I wanted to race! But on my first run, I reverted back to old habits. I waited for stability on my stern; I wasn't really racing.
My second run was better. Much better. My raw time dropped from 231.70 to 198.30. I got on my bow. I drove the boat. I raced. The was a magic moment just before gate 16, three quarters of the way down the course. For just a few seconds, I was in control enough that I could accelerate the way I'd been doing on flatwater all week. My abs, quads, and back all poured power into my stoke. I came into gate 16 tight, turned up through it, and peeled back out with my eyes already on 17. The moment was brief, but it was a glimpse of where I could be heading. I'm hungry for more of that. I believe the word might be autotelic. Addicting. Maybe they are the same thing.
The trip was truly made amazing by the kindness and generosity of the paddling community. I stay in the house of a family I had never met, and was welcomed like an old friend. I received advice from coaches and athletes from all over the country. This is the atmosphere slalom needs to nurture and build off of. I am so glad I decided to travel here.
More colorado photos are here.
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