cyclocross

Once upon a time I made fun of people who spent their hard-earned money on boutique canti brakes with excessively wide “clearance.” The physics of such brakes suggest they look powerful and have short modulation but not actually much stopping power. The reason proffered for such cool-looking brakes is that they have “great mud clearance.”

My usual retort was: “when have you actually needed two inches of mud clearance?”

At Kruger’s yesterday, two inches would not have been enough. The early morning fields had frozen mud, by 10:30 (my start) the conditions were merely slippery. We had about two laps of wonderful slip-n-slidey stuff, but by lap 3 any patch of ground with a little exposure had become a tacky, adobe-like mess.

I had moments in this race where, if I did not apply power directly to the wheel, it would refuse to turn. Because of the two-plus inches of mud blocking up the wheel. Like racing with both brakes rubbing hard. Bringing the bike over barriers became difficult, carrying — or pushing — it almost impossible. It probably had 10 pounds of extra weight on it.

Thom’s write-up has all the particulars: we staged together near the back and he jumped dozens of places immediately. I fought my way up to 27th of 128 but never caught Thom. (And, by the way, check out those field sizes. This is an after-season, non-series race. Wow.)

Otherwise: hey, it’s Kruger’s Farm. Captured by Porches, caramel apples, wood-fired pizza, what’s not to love?

As I mentally drafted a typical (read: long) report for yesterday’s race, I realized that I was actually meditating on the unintended consequences of my new hobby.

There’s a fitness consequence obviously. (You should see the 55+ y.o. racers, who’ve been doing this for decades. They’re built like college kids.)

And being sore and bruised and probably scabby until about Tuesday.

Damage to the bike: oh my yes. Even if you don’t crash, mud acts like an abrasive so everything wears out much faster. I haven’t degreased my chain for a month.

My notion of “bad weather” has changed. I spent all October wishing for rain. How sick is that?

I discovered my body is capable of much more than I have ever asked of it. It’s an amazing machine untested by modern life. I went almost 40 years regarding myself as “unathletic” because I can’t throw or catch (true!) but it turns out throwing and catching are optional components of “athletics.”

Here’s a biggie: 45 minutes of pretty hard suffering every week has reset my concept of “suffering.” For example I have dispensed with rain gear on my commute. It seldom takes longer than 45 minutes to get wherever I’m going, and that’s only when I want it to. What, you can’t be wet and cold (alternatively: hot and sweaty) for 45 measly minutes?

Or when a colleague asks for a “small project” that I know will be an annoying pain in the ass ... the kind of thing I might shove to the edge of the desk and defer and delay until the last possible minute. Seriously, how long do most small projects take? Maybe 45 minutes of intense concentration? More than this?

Photo by Will Sullivan

Race Report: Cross Crusade #7 (Barton Park)

We’re finally getting some mud in our ’cross races. Barton was my favorite race last year. There were no surprises this year — I think the course was identical — but that’s OK. This might be the most perfect ’cross recipe: deep/fine mud, singletrack, a white-knuckle drop, two monster runups, long stretches of either pavement or double track. It rewards good riding but has enough off-bike work to suppress the off-season roadies.

I was in the third callup group, so I started with pretty good staging. Maybe my ideal staging: far enough forward to clear the inevitable pileups, but not so far forward that I get passed a lot early in the race. My brain is such that I can psych myself up when I chase, but I lose hope quickly when I get passed.

None of my usual bike buddies were riding, but Jenny and the kids were on hand. Orion was giving me “race faces” while I staged. the guys around me got a charge out of that. I felt loose and goofy. I was out to have fun, placement be damned.

My legs were tired but not as tired as everyone else apparently. Seems like a lot of guys were either familiar faces from yesterday at Edgefield, or raced Apple Core in Salem. I also mistimed the start (noted the wrong start time) so I thought we had another lap left at the end. I took it real easy on the runups and then picked off the heroes when they recovered.

One of the pit mechanics was shouting out places, he hollered “60” at me on my first lap, “40” on my second, and then 34/35 for the last three. I started strong and felt fresh the whole race. Finished with maybe my second-best place ever (after yesterday!): 26 of 156.

Photo by Ian Masterson