About five days before the once-per-season night time cross race, Kirk told me there was a fun non-competitive women-only ride that would be held at 4:40 (dusk, not night) at the race course. That sounded like the perfect way to try my hand at riding the all-terrain course that Cross always is, and I looked forward to the event. For an extra five bucks you could even have a "bike butler" who would take your bike up the run-ups. That's where I draw the line, and declared I'd run my bike up myself, thank you very much.
Well, teaching class on Saturday morning it occurred to me that it was completely impractical to ride the 4:40 event. SpinDoc doesn't close until 4, the ride was in Albuquerque, and Kirk's race wasn't scheduled until something like 7:40, leaving way too much time between the two events. Suddenly I was looking at going for a bike ride in the middle of a bunch of racers. Hmmmm.
As soon as we arrived in Albuquerque -- and yes, it was already dark -- my first view of the course was a 180 degree switch-back, slightly off camber. Switchbacks aren't my forte on a flat road, much less a grassy, leaf-covered off camber dark corner of a middle school playing field. I resumed my "maybe I'll just watch" posture -- but the next thing I know Kirk is getting me registered, getting my number, and I'm getting dressed.
Lucky for me, we got to pre-ride the course, and I followed Kirk as he gave me pointers on handling turns, sand, bark, and stair run ups. I practiced my dismount, and simply conceded I wouldn't be doing cross-style remounts, making my time right there and then molasses-slow. That's okay; I wasn't there to race, just to go for a bike ride. The real racers run along side the bike, and literally jump on it while it's moving; not me. I swing a leg over, struggle to bring the right pedal up to the power pedal position, then get rolling. Ah, such finesse!
Then, I'm in the back of a pack of riders of all ages, sizes and abilities. Next to me are a couple of kids on 20" bikes that couldn't have been more than 6 or 7. (And yes, they beat me over the finish line!) At the whistle everyone takes off like a bat out of hell; I let 'em go, got rolling, and headed up the pavement driveway behind the middle school, over speed bump after speed bump, It was kinda dark as that part wasn't really lit, and at the far end one circled a concrete turn-around. It was wide, so I took the extra time to go wide and stay stable-feeling. From there, one headed back towards the playing fields, and the other riders were far enough ahead of me it was kind of hard to tell where to go. I was pretty apprehensive, and was so slow getting there that someone crossing the course asked, "Are you racing???" Well, no, I'm not.
From there you headed out on the grass, took an easy turn to the right around the pit (pit stop that is, bikes can be damaged to the point of being unridable and cyclocross is the only race discipline where you have a spare bike in a central area so you can change bikes during the race if need be), then up to what for me was by far the most challenging section: after a right turn on a grassy hill, you had to ride a very narrow sharp left switchback. Right above it stood many onlookers, all cheering everyone on. I had been counseled to simply unclip and put the inside foot down to scoot the bike through the switchback. I did so; at the top was an older heavy bearded man who said something to the effect of "keep going, you've got it, believe in it!" or something equally supportive. Hopefully I grinned at him. Who knows -- I just was trying not to panic, and remember I was doing this for fun.
From there you hoped a bit of a curb to ride through a corner of bark-filled playground, across a concrete walkway, and down off the other side into more bark. From there, you headed to the first set of stairs and forced dismount. I wasn't exactly fast on my dismounts, but did it nonetheless, swinging my right leg over the saddle as the bike approached the bottom of the stairs. I was very proud of myself. I picked up the bike, and ran up the shallow, long steps to the top, put the bike down, and struggle to get that right pedal where I wanted it to resume. From there was a little descent onto grass, then off towards that switchback that I first eyed on arrival. I took it wide going in, as instructed, and took my time, and never felt unsure of that turn at all. From there you could get a little speed along a grassy straightaway, then up to the left, putting us back on concrete.
Then came a drop off a curb into deep bark, riding through swing sets and other playground gear. As Kirk pointed out later, there was lots of room for a hard crash in that section if one slid into a swing set leg. As the laps progressed, the ruts through the bark got deeper and deeper. Coming out to the right from the bark, you had to get back up a curb; the first time I rode it, the second I missed and it cost me more time fumbling for stability than it would to put a foot down and lift up the front wheel, which is what I did on subsequent laps.
Taking an easy sweeping turn to the left from there you landed in a very deep sand pit. I have no idea what it was used for on the playground; too small for volley ball, it was built for some specific purpose. That sand was deep. I usually ride sand well, but at best only got about 3/4 of the way across the length before having to dismount and run. It's just as well, as the curb up on the other side was beyond my comfort. (My mountain bike coaches at SheRide would be disappointed in me; we spent plenty of time practicing just that. Oh well.) Riding down a hill led further out along the chain link fence, a sandy switchback, and then an approach to another set of stairs. (Jonathon, Iraset and her sister and friends where stationed at the top of the stairs; it was great to have the cheering section, as it also was where another switchback was. They could encourage you twice from that spot.) At the top, after remounting you'd ride back down the hill you just ran up, take some broad sweeping turns out on the grass, then back towards the hills for another off-camber switchback. Not quite as tight as the first one, it nonetheless stymied me the first couple of tries. Back down the hill, out to the far end of the field and onto some hard packed dirt, the last challenge was jumping the pair of barriers. . .that thoughtfully had been set up in another sand pit! Again, it was deep sand, too, coming off a curb. The sand made the barriers seem even higher than they were, and I admit it was challenging to get the Breezer up and over without banging. Needless to say, I didn't exactly run the barriers, but I handled them as efficiently as I could. From there, you hit the pavement where the ride started, and headed out again over the speed bumps.
I was on my way out to the turnaround at the start of my second lap when I got lapped. Hey, at least I finished my first lap without getting lapped!
From there I started to feel a little more comfortable. I started trying to plan for the upcoming challenges, trying to choose the best path, trying to gear down sufficiently for that first tight switchback. Missed it the second time, but the heavy guy cheered anyway. As riders came by, they were all careful about announcing their passing, and a few even offered encouragement as they went past. I got a bit faster with each lap, and enjoyed it more and more. I have no idea how many laps I did -- I thought it was four, but maybe it was five because I recall I couldn't even get a good try at the tight switchback the third time because a rider in front of me went down on it, so I just dismounted and ran the way around -- but I DID end up riding it twice, which was a very exciting accomplishment. On the last two laps I got the other switchback, too.
Believe it or not, I don't think I was last over the finish line (although I'm pretty certain I was second to last). I did pass a young teen aged girl, and although we swapped spots for a bit on one lap, I finally got out ahead of her and stayed there.
Kirk's race was next. Having just ridden the course, it was impressive to see the speed at which these guys ride, how fast they approach the stairs and the barriers, how they actually ride the entire sand pit and then bunny hop the front wheel up the curb and out of it. I saw one guy wipe out hard on the bark in the swing set area, but he didn't hit any playground equipment and got back on to finish his ride.
Halfway through, we all got a surprise: suddenly the in-ground sprinkler system went off. Four streams of water started pouring out from the top of the hill, right where the announcer's booth was. At first we thought it was a gag, but it became apparent that it was not planned as part of the race. The juniors discovered that big orange road-work cones over the sprinkler heads stopped the water flying, and forced it to simply seep out the bottom. The racers just kept going, water or no. Then those fun-loving juniors discovered they could target each racer by lifting up one side of the cone to strategically spray a rider as he made the second switchback. It was pretty hilarious, and everyone was game, riders and sprayers alike. They were pretty soaked when the race concluded though. Kirk, Tove, Jerry and shop friend Sean all had great rides.
After changing we had a late, yummy sushi dinner on the west side of town, then made the drive home to Santa Fe. I had so much fun I'm going to do it again! I'll stick with the nice stable fat tires of my Breezer, though, thank-you-very-much.
I apologize for the lack of photos. Next time.
Best to all,
Kirk, Chandler and Jonathon
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