You get what you pay for.

The Tour of Anchorage pretty much went like I expected it to. While I was hanging on with the pack and slowly moving up the GC, I was also cramping up in every race. This wasn't a lack of electrolytes or any other magic bullet fix- I simply had not done enough of that sort of duration or intensity. When I tore a sidewall 12 miles from the end of the road race, it was a mercy killing more than anything else. The final day was characterized by the struggle to get out of bed, as a steady drizzle pretty much matched my mood. I just didn't want to race. Still, I lined up and rode with the pack, until I cramped up yet again and decided that it wasn't worth it. I was still hurting a week later, so that was probably the right choice. It didn't make it any easier.
 
Not feeling like much of a cyclist, I went through the motions of "training", but without much enthusiasm. I had decent days and days I'd rather forget, but I knew 'cross season was right around the corner.
 
... then it started raining. Then it got a little colder. Then the kids decided to give me a cold a couple days before the 1st race of Arctic Cross. Again, I was less than enthused as I woke up this morning. The weather turned around just in time, and although the course was properly soggy, the sun came out and it was a pretty nice day. Master Men were racing the same race as the Open/Experts, which meant a longer race and the chance of being run over as they lapped you again and again. I decided to take a conservative pace and let the chips fall wherever they chose to. While I had a bad history on this course, I was chugging along in the middle of my field when my back started to give out. Every dismount, every run-up, every barrier sent shock waves up my spine, and it was getting progressively worse. I twisted it up with a bad dismount at the bottom of the longest run-up, and somehow managed to drag the bike to the top. When I tried to remount and pedal, I couldn't put any pressure on the cranks. Everything just locked up, and I knew I was done.
 
Yep, I quit again. Halfway through the race, and I just couldn't go on. The engine was red-lined, but still holding up just fine. The chassis just couldn't handle it. It's not surprising, with the added weight and months of neglected core workouts. 'Cross is brutally efficient in pointing out weaknesses. Usually my complete lack of bike handling skills is what is most evident, but this time I was going too slow to wreck as much as I usually do. While quitting may not be easy, I've been demonstrating considerable aptitude for it lately. Maybe that's my true calling.
 
After hobbling around all day, I got on the trainer tonight to try to loosen up my back. Without the impacts, I could actually hold a decent amount of power. That was a nice surprise, so maybe I didn't do anything too serious. At this point, I'll take any positive sign I can get. Maybe I'll line up again next week. It's my favorite course, so hopefully that will provide me the extra motivation to finish.