Cyclocross Race 10 -- Less Text, More Pics!

Cyclocross Race #10

Saturday, Dec. 15, 2012

Hays Apple Orchard, Bosque Farms, NM

We’ve reached the last race of the 2012 NM series! Last year this race was a mud fest. My hard-tail mountain bike weighed twice as much when I finished riding as it did when I started. We had no idea what to expect this year, especially since we’ve gotten some snow in NM.

It was definitely chilly. When we left Santa Fe it was in the mid-20s, but was probably low- to mid-30s in the Bosque Farms area. There was a very cool breeze, though, and as another storm was forecast the skies were more often cloudy than clear.

The number of ladies lined up to race had dwindled over the season, and in my group of Masters Women 50+ there were just the three of us: Sheila, Maripat, and me. As usual the Cat. 1/2/3 riders took off first, then the Cat. 4 and the one single speed rider on her bright pink bike, and then us. Sheila took off like a shot, and I played caboose.

The course was in good shape, dry, and was nicely laid out with only one super tight switchback and more wider sweeping turns. It wasn’t muddy, and wasn’t nearly as bumpy as Cuba, which felt like riding on a rumble strip. Like Las Cruces there was a long straightaway along the top of a packed dirt berm from which you descended into the apple orchard. The descent was short but steep and sandy, and quite a few of us opted to run it (although I had been assured it was very ridable; it just looked too intimidating to me). 

Once in the orchard, we made apple sauce. A surprising number of apples were on the ground under the trees, and they had started to decompose and were quite slippery. (As a matter of fact, Tove told me later a Cat. 1/2/3 rider had hit an apple and went down really hard.) I took to watching for them trying to avoid them as much as possible. A couple of turns caught me by surprise, so my first lap was not particularly fast or skilled.  It was one of those rides where I spent most of the first lap wondering why I thought this was fun. On the run back up the berm – every bit as loose, steep and sandy as the ride down – I got caught behind a very young Cat. 4 rider, and nearly fell. 

It was not a particularly good day of riding for me. I really tried to catch Maripat, who had probably a 30-second gap on me. I whittled away at that gap, but those last two laps weren’t enough to catch her. I might have more power and am faster on the straight-aways, but she rides the turns faster than I do. On the last lap, I decided I had nothing to lose and rode down the scary sandy descent, finding it much easier than I ever would have believed. Then, thankfully, I was done. I was just glad to finish.  I tried not to feel discouraged, but some days it just kinda goes that way.

I was surprised and pleased to learn I had nonetheless maintained my spot as second in the series for the Masters 50+ women.  I have a shiny silver medal on a red ribbon to show for my first full season as a cross racer. I’m very proud of that. And I know what skills I want to work on before next year!

Changed into warm and dry clothing while the Cat. 1/2/3 men raced, it was then time for Kirk and David to race.  Their group too had dwindled a bit; maybe the colder temperatures had scared some people away. We knew Kirk’s primary competitor, Jimmy, was out for the rest of the season (his last race had been in Las Cruces). The Masters lined up with the Cat. 4 and single speeders behind them; on the count down, they took off.

The SpinDoc guys on the starting line 

I don’t even know who got the hole shot; it wasn’t Kirk or David. They raced up the berm, took the one really tight u-turn at the far end, then raced back to the sandy descent. By this time the top had a deep channel cut into it.  Before heading towards the pit, I watched the riders until all had gone down. A few planted their front wheels into the soft sand, going generally over the bars as a result (they probably grabbed the front brake, or didn’t keep their weight back far enough to avoid pushing the front wheel into the soft deep sand). It was a very soft landing, so each got up quickly and jumped back on his bike.

Down the sandy descent; Kirk is two riders behind David, who is on his way down

At the bottom of the descent; you can just barely make out
a cyclist behind David. He went down a second later,
and Kirk had to make his way around him as he came down.

I made my way to the pit, locating my hard tail (serving as David’s “B” bike) and Kirk’s Redline.  I had not seen lots of flats, so didn’t keep myself as “in the ready” as I would on a course with lots of flats. Instead, I pointed Kirk’s bike the right direction for each pit pass, and then enjoyed taking pictures and yelling (hopefully encouragingly!).

The chase is on! SpinDoc going one-two.

I couldn’t see much of the course from the pit, but David quickly passed the few guys that somehow got off the line before him, and Kirk passed the two guys originally between himself and David, then the two that David has passed.  Before long, it was a one-two SpinDoc race. There was a huge gap between David and Kirk and the rest of the field. David would pull out from Kirk on the straight-aways, and Kirk would close David’s lead in the turns.  Even the announcer said, “This right here is the race!” It was quite the spectator event: David and Kirk put on a really great show. And it all came down to the finishing sprint; Kirk was right on David’s wheel, both pedaling furiously, David getting the win with half a front wheel.  They had a blast, and it was a blast to watch.

Coming back up to the top of the berm -- just as sandy and deep as the descent.

With the men’s Masters 50+ series done, Kirk and David got their respective medals, too. Kirk won the silver behind Jimmy, and David got the bronze.  SpinDoc is well represented in New Mexico cyclocross this year: for the day’s race we took a gold, a silver and a bronze.  In the state series, we took home two silvers and a bronze. Way to go, SpinDoc!

The finishing sprint, Kirk (red sleeves) right on David's wheel, the race official watching 'em go.

Celebrating the double win!

Cyclocross Race Report #8: Las Cruces 12/1/12

Cyclocross Race #8

Saturday, Dec. 1, 2012

Some Field Somewhere, Las Cruces, NM

We knew even before we set off for Las Cruces late Friday afternoon (later than planned, but that’s how that tends to go) it was going to be an overly full couple of days. Lauren, our youngest, was in her debut performance Saturday, Dec. 1^st on the Lensic stage in Aspen Santa Fe Ballet’s Nutcracker. She was scheduled to perform both the afternoon and evening performances that day, and we’d bought tickets for the evening performance. To break up the drive, we opted to head down to Las Cruces on Friday for the Saturday race.

On the way, I recalled last year’s drive; we hit Socorro in crazy heavy snow and very low visibility, which continued as far south as T or C. Needless to say this drive was much, much easier.

We got a decent night of sleep in spite of being so near the railroad tracks. The morning was sunny and surprisingly warm when we stepped out, and I decided to shed the long sleeve base layer from under my SpinDoc jersey. Unfortunately, our directions to the venue were stymied by a detour, which – I’m fairly certain – prevented us from finding a coffee joint that was on the way. I ended up racing with only a half cup of motel-room coffee and a 100-calorie blueberry fruit bar in me. Not the best way to start.

When we got to the course it was apparent right away how few people had made the drive down to Las Cruces.  Tizzie and Haley and some of the other juniors where there, as where some Cat. 1/2/3 ladies, Sheila and I were the only Masters women, and there was a mere handful of Cat. 4 gals. I stopped Tizzie to ask her about the course, and she started to describe some “hole” in the course that very obviously had her very nervous.

It sounded from her description like a deep huge hole, and her plan was to get off and take it on foot. Haley came up to us and said she had ridden it five times, and it was totally rideable. The first race was underway, so there was no way for me to go check it out. Instead, Tove drew a line in the dirt representing the leading edge of the hole for me to practice lifting the front wheel over, or to attempt a bunny hop. Al, Sheila’s husband, chimed in with advise and helpful information, and before long I was able to hop the bike up a bit. The other features described – a pile of white sand, and lots of sand that was rideable – where all at the front end of the course, with the balance being long stretches of fairly flat grass. Lonnngggg stretches. It was a power course more than a technical course.

I was thankful when we did get to pre-ride most of it before our race so I didn’t see all these things, especially the dreaded hole, on the first lap. The first challenge for me actually was a ride up a sandy, steep but short rise up to the flat top of a manmade berm. I didn’t keep enough speed on the pre-ride, but learned immediately it was totally rideable. The next thing was the hole. We never figured out what it was. Not a drainage ditch, as there was no water anywhere to be seen plus it seemed only about 4 or 5 feet long, was lipped on the near side with a narrow piece of metal, and was soft sand on the far side. It was less than a foot wide – not what I would call a hole – and although looked daunting I never felt unsafe riding over it after the initial try. As long as you had a little speed and were ready to pull up the front wheel if needed, it didn’t even require a hop. Since it was pretty sandy, me trying a hop might have been a bad idea anyhow. 

Next was the pile of white sand. That was far more daunting looking than the ‘hole’! It was only about 6-7 feet wide, and was course white sand that went straight up and straight down the other side. Yipes. I made it up and down the other side, and lived to tell. The only other scary part for me was a down and up with big, big rocks on either side. Tove’s advise was not to look at the rocks on the left side to avoid riding straight into them.  Keeping an eye on the right side of boulders, I tended to take a little too much speed out in order to control the descent, but then was more challenged getting up the other side.

Next thing we know they’re calling us to line up. That’s when I realized it was just me and Sheila in our group. All I had to do was finish to get the silver. Little did I know how hard just that simple task was going to be!

As usual, I was last off the line, and it really proved a poor move this time as the Cat. 4 gal in front of me didn’t make it up the first loose ride-up, forcing me off my bike as well.  In the course of her dismount  or a mid-climb down-shift her chain had come off, so at the top I remounted and got a good lead. Flat and smooth, you could pick up a good bit of speed on the berm, then turn right over a couple of BMX-type whoop-de-dos. They looked loose and scary but weren’t deep at all, and the trick was to focus on the line to keep your wheels right on it and not grab brake. At the bottom, though, the sand was deep and soft through a right turn – the one place I went down on lap 3 or 4. As a matter of fact, it was so deep and loose that I had to run the bike up a few feet to where it was more packed in order to remount and get enough purchase to roll again. A left turn took you to the dreaded “hole”; it was hard in the loose sand to keep enough speed, but I never felt I was even close to nosing the front wheel deep enough to go over the bars. It was much more gnarly looking than it really was to ride.

A left from the hole took you quickly to the white sand mound; as long as I again followed the line established by all the riders and looked at the top (the old “look where you want to go” rule) I made it each time. The trick going down was not to over-steer, and stay soft in the arms and let the bike just roll down.  The deep loose sand at the bottom in yet another right turn was far more problematic for me. Each lap I tried to find the best line through that stuff, and I just don’t think there was one.

Another right turn dumped us on the grass, which didn’t exactly disappoint me. Enough sand! From here it was long straight-aways. A couple easy swooping climbs up and down took you to the last technical bit (other than the barriers), that boulder-lined drop, a soft sandy, short but steep climb (a recurring theme in cyclocross) on the other side. At the top, still in soft sand, was a u-turn. I found it very hard to focus at this point on pretty much every lap, and never fully missed the turn but had to put a foot down a couple times. Back on the grass, more straight-aways, which doubled back on themselves to the barriers; then back again to go up and down a slope, past the only pit entrance, then a u-turn past the finish line. Another climb up a grassy slope brought you to the right side of a wrought iron fence, the other side of which had been our race start straight-away. Riding along that fence line I tried to get some recovery before dropping back onto the grass, and eventually back up to more sand and a short straightaway in sand leading to that first climb up the sandy berm.

Without a rider in front of me, I made it up the climb with no problem on lap two, and navigated each obstacle with increasing confidence. It made a difference to try to keep some speed on this course, even in the sand. Of course increased speed often means increased chance of consequences – hence my get-off on lap 3 or 4.  It was a tough, tough course. I knew my advantage was on the grass where I could put on a little power, as I was slower than most on the more technical early parts of the course. So I would hit the grass, gear up and push for as long as I could before it was too much, then I’d down shift to try to keep some speed. It was on the grass I did what passing I managed to do, passing a few Cat. 4 riders and the only woman single-speed rider.

As I passed the finish line at the end of lap 3 they finally had a remaining laps count posted. I couldn’t tell if it was a 4 or a 9 as the top was obscured. As I rode past, I said, “Nine?!!!!? You’re joking, right?” Riding up to the wrought iron fence, many spectators and racers stood on the other side, watching the race from its vantage point. One particular bunch at the top of that climb (obviously racers) cat-called that I had twelve more laps. I started laughing. Someone in the bunch knew my name, though, and called out. That happened several times around the course; you’d ride past, and someone would call out, “Good work, Chandler!” or whatever. That is such a nice part of our local scene; everyone is so supportive of everyone else.

Pointing at the lap count -- 9? You're joking, right???

It made a big difference, too, especially as each lap got  harder and harder. I was so relieved when Tizzie passed me on my fourth lap. I was started to fade and each lap hurt worse, and although I knew I only had to simply finish, you are compelled to keep going as hard as you can. I did, too, all the way up to the end of my sixth and final lap. Finishing never was so good. That race was very hard, and not particularly fun. But I did it, and all in all I am proud of how I rode.

It had gotten warm. I don’t know if that was the warmest point yet, but it ended up getting up to about 78º. It was hot and sunny.  Kirk had gotten us some coffee and egg sandwiches; running on empty probably had not helped my performance. That latte tasted divine.

After the itty bitty kids did their race, the Cat. 1/2/3 riders started. As always, they were fast and furious. We stood on the wrought iron fence line, watching, above the finish line. After about 5 or 6 laps, the riders started asking what the remaining lap count was. Some guy with a camera was standing there next to the race officials calling out different lap counts to each rider. The racers got very confused; it’s one thing to call out something silly like the other racers did to me, telling me I still had twelve laps. They weren’t anywhere near the finish line and race officials, so it was obviously a joke. This guy, however, standing there with the officials and calling different numbers just confused matters.

At this point remaining lap count is very important to these guys. They need to know how much more they must ride so they can mete out their efforts and strategize.  As one rider went through he asked how many more laps, got no answer from the officials and an off-hand answer from the guy with the camera of ‘9’. He just shook his head in bewilderment as he passed us. Kirk called out, “Give ‘em the lap count!” One of the officials yelled at Kirk that he was going to give it to them at Lap 6. (That’s kinda late, and I believe doesn’t meet Cyclocross Race Regulations. . . but I’d have to check that.) Kirk called out that the guy with the camera standing there with the officials was giving a different random number to each rider that went by, and the race official yelled back, “He’s giving us bib numbers, jerk!” Wow. Really? Bib numbers are all three digits; the camera guy was giving all single and low double digit numbers. . .not bib numbers.

The end result of all this mess was that the Cat. 1/2/3 race ran an hour and twenty minutes instead of the regulated hour.  It also meant Kirk’s race started after the time it should have been finishing. . .and we were anxiously watching the clock in order to hit the road to be back in time for Lauren’s performance.

It was nice that I wasn’t helping to score and could watch the race and take pictures instead. The Master’s men/single speed/Cat. 4 racers took off, with Kirk getting the hole shot. (Later I learned that Jimmy, at the starting line up said, “Hey, Kirk, why don’t you drop your chain at the top of that first ride-up?” Kirk replied, “I’ll make you a deal, Jimmy. I’ll do that if you take the hole shot and let me ride your wheel!”)

Negotiating with Jimmy at the start line

Reyna and I hung out in the pit with Kirk’s pit bike as this was a course ripe for flats. There must’ve been pokey stuff out there in the grass somewhere. I asked a young racer named Taylor to pit briefly for Kirk so I could wander over to the boulder section for some pics.  It was a tough, tough race; it seemed Kirk was as ‘flat’ feeling as I had been, as he dropped off Jimmy’s wheel, then dropped into third. He held his position there, though, and had no mechanicals or get-offs, just didn’t get into a groove. He passed another rider in the deep sand, and lost time slogging through that. He too said he spent half the race trying to identify the best lines through some of the course, but they were elusive (or didn’t exist). Plus it was hot; the temperature had continued to climb, and out there on that sun-baked field it felt even hotter.

Riding up after passing the "boulders" 

If a rider doesn’t have a water bottle in his jersey pocket, the only other place he can take it is in the pit. He is actually required to get off the bike as he enters the pit, take the bottle, and run his bike through and remount to re-enter the course. This was another detail the race officials didn’t get (they clearly weren’t familiar with the rules and regs for cross, even though they were USA Cycling officials), as several riders rode into the pit, took bottles while still on the bike, and rode the length of the pit before dropping the bottle to re-enter the course. It is mandatory that you get off the bike if you enter the pit. I had water for Kirk, but he never pitted.

I think Kirk was as relieved as I to finish the race that day. It was tough, it was hot, it was a power course and if you didn’t feel the power, it was simply a pain course. The lack of food and coffee in the morning didn’t help, either; I’m sure it contributed to my lackluster ride. We still were glad to have ridden, though. We then raced to Santa Fe, got there in plenty of time (even having stopped to grab food to eat in the car in ‘Burque), and saw Lauren’s fabulous Nutcracker debut as a mouse.  She was the best mouse in the bunch, and the mice stole the show.

Then a good night’s sleep was had by all, complete with sugar plums . . .on cross bikes.

The Big News: SpinDoc is Moving

Greetings, SpinDoc friends, family, customers, and clients,

The cat is out of the bag: SpinDoc is moving. Not far though, fear not! We still remain the local family-owned bike shop and indoor cycling studio serving all your cycling needs.

As of February 1, 2013 we will be in the building located at the intersection of Hwy 285 and Old Las Vegas Highway, formerly the Supper Club, next to Cafe Fina. In the meantime, we remain at La Tienda with indoor cycling classes on full schedule and all bike service and sales.

We will miss our fellow businesses at La Tienda, and thank Steve and Destiny for their support of SpinDoc over the last three years.

We tentatively are planning a Grand Opening Party and Fundraiser for World Bicycle Relief on Saturday, February 16th, so save the date!

Thank you all for your support and patronage; we look forward to showing you our new digs! The new shop will offer a garment boutique in the former dining room resplendent with its Venetian Plaster and kiva fireplace, and -- get ready for this one!!! -- a shower for the indoor cycling room!

We'll keep you posted as we get closer; in the meantime, come visit us at La Tienda.

Night Cross: Race Report #7, 11/17/12

Cyclocross Race #7

Saturday, Nov. 17, 2012

SY Jackson Middle School; Albuquerque, NM

Night Cross! Night Cross was my first ever cross race last year on my trusty hard-tail Breezer. I was definitely looking forward to trying it this year on my ‘cross bike.

So here’s the scoop with Night ‘Cross. It is against regulations to have any lights on the bike; the first year Kirk raced it, we’d intended to put this big light array on his rear wheel which creates different shapes as the wheel spins – but found out it wasn’t permissible. Instead, the course is lit with those huge lights such as the ones road crews work under when working at night. They are pretty powerful, and the only section that was a little dark on the course was the turnaround at the top of the school driveway. Other than the optical illusions the blue color of the tape caused the visibility was good. The blue tape was a problem for me; several times I thought the tape was further away, or continued straight when in fact it was straight across in front of me marking a turn.

Ramleen covered the two morning classes so we wouldn’t expend it all before we even left town; we worked at the shop until about 3 then headed to ‘Burque. It was nice out, mild as the whole winter has been so far. Nonetheless I had an overflowing backpack of garment choices, determined not to repeat my Cuba clothing mistake.

We got there as the juniors were racing. That let us see the course with riders on it; this is helpful in determining the direction you ride on certain sections, and if you follow one rider you get a sense of the course overall. It appeared to be pretty similar to last year, except there was more in the bark mulch under the swing sets (there was just a single crossing of it last year), and the deep short “sand box” (probably a tether ball area) was completely eliminated this year. Last year’s course included riding off and back up quite a few concrete lips and curbs; most of those were taken out this year. Fine by me; that was my only concern as I haven’t mastered lifting the front of the cross bike (something I find much easier, if only psychologically, with a suspension fork).

Although it was warm I still donned a long sleeve base under my SpinDoc jersey and full leg warmers tucked under my SpinDoc shorts. At least I could wear ‘kit;’ last weekend was so cool I wore a long-sleeve jersey, not even my SpinDoc stuff. Kirk and I got to pre-ride about ¾ of the course . . .then it was time to line up. Little did I know that Tove, on her pre-ride, had gone over her handlebars after hitting a hole in the grass (possibly a sprinkler, we don’t know) and had sprained her hand. She was at the starting line for the Cat. 1/2/3s, so I was none the wiser.

Anne Keener, however, still was recovering from her injuries from Cuba and remained on the sidelines.  I didn’t get a chance to talk to her, but it was great to see her manning the chili cook-off and wave.

The start was my norm, not really getting much of a jump on it, but picking up some speed – enough to not get dropped – as I made my way up the initial parking lot section over speed humps and speed bumps. Just like last year, a sweeping mini-roundabout turned us back towards the grass, and a fairly straight entry onto the grassy field enabled you to keep up quite a bit of speed. I took that segment of each lap faster and faster, once kind of forgetting until the last moment that it ended in a right turn. The right turn led up a short little climb, steep enough to force you to quickly shift down one or two, into a tight switchback and a return down to the main section of field.

Back and forth we crossed over the field, eventually taking another climb back up, steep enough that I often had to stand as I rode up to maintain any speed. That led to the bark section, winding in between rows of swing sets. The first time I tried to ride it. I was right behind a lady named Maripat, also a Masters 50+ racer, and a Cat. 4 rider. I did okay until the first switchback in the bark, and went too wide into deeper stuff, losing time and struggling to get going again. I finally did, but was stuck behind the Cat. 4 rider and saw Maripat pulling away from me.  The second switchback in the bark resulted in even further delays, and I finally got off and ran my bike the third leg of the bark, remounting once I was back on blacktop. From there a quick diagonal cut took you to the bottom of a run-up, wide shallow stairs that led up to an easy switchback on concrete at the base of the school building.  That u-turn put us back on grass on a long straight run, off-camber, with switch backs, the middle of the three pretty tight (but I made it on every one of those!). The last dumped you on a bit of concrete, and was a good place to spin it up while catching your breath.

The next segment caught me off guard several times, and actually caused Kirk a get-off: from the concrete we turned left to a u-turn around a tree with some surprisingly stable sand underneath. The tricky part was the line of blue tape marking the turn. As dusk fell it was harder and harder to see. The first lap I nearly rode straight into it, missing it altogether until the last second and making the turn. From then I always warned myself it was coming yet it still often caught me by surprise.

Another couple switchbacks on grass brought us a dicey soft sand switchback that I never managed to navigate without at least a foot down. Another stair run-up took us back to the upper level where the bark was, but you immediately turned right and rode another couple of tight switchbacks, heading back down the hill we’d just gone up via the stairs. More and more switchbacks – another sea-sick course – finally took you past the second side of the pit and to the barriers.

Kind of hard to get a clear photo in the dark. . .

Ah, but there was more! After jumping the first pair of barriers, you rode past the finish line, took a left into a sand box (possibly a long jump pit?), jumped another barrier, and then jumped up onto a concrete curb that must’ve been at least 12” high. That was one of the two hardest points for me. Not only had I always knocked my pedals into the wrong position for a quick remount and start, but I was simply tapped. From there we picked back up on the start in the parking lot with the speed humps and bumps.

I think it was towards the end of lap two that I caught back up with Maripat. I had gotten to the bark and decided it might be faster for me to run the whole thing. I rode it to the first switchback, then dismounted and ran the rest. It definitely proved quicker for me. My transitions to the stairs were uniformly fast and smooth; my dismounts have improved quite a bit, and I never had a problem moving into picking up the bike and running. The top of that first set of stairs was the other heavy breathing point for me, and a couple times fumbling for the pedals while trying to catch my breath cost me some time.

But I was closing in on her, and knew it. On that last straight away through the finish line leading to the sand box/second barrier I passed her, made the barrier just fine, but was caught and re-passed as I fought for breath and my right pedal on the concrete. Starting lap three, however, I passed her for the last time and held my gap. I said something silly as I passed her, something about a ridiculous moment back there where I was unable to get rolling, but she didn’t respond.

I pulled off, and subsequently rode each lap faster with three more to go. It was a surprise when they said three more, and I wondered if I could keep it up. I did, though, and had a great race, even back tracking a couple steps where tape had gone down and I missed a switchback. (I didn’t wanna be disqualified if I missed part of the course by accident, but I couldn’t tell where it went once the section of tape went down. I saw a Cat. 3 rider properly navigate the original course even without the tape up, and followed her lead to correct myself.)

After the race I was heading off to change and was stopped by Anita, who I hadn’t seen since last year. I believe she is racing Cat. 4, but this was only her second ‘cross event for the year. It was so nice to see her, and we chatted a moment. The ‘cross community is so friendly; it truly is one of the reasons I ventured into it at all last year. I remember Anita well from my first race. She was next to me at the start line, and was so nice and calm although it was only her second ‘cross race.

I learned after the race about Tove’s pre-race get-off. It’s amazing she raced, her fingers already swelling and unable to get a good grip on the handlebars – much less the brakes. She did, though, and after some TLC over the next couple days the swelling subsided and mending began.

Time for the Men’s Cat. 1/2/3 race, and I was requested to help score both that race and Kirk’s.  As always, those guys rode so fast, and as their race runs a full hour it makes for a LOT of laps. The race leaders were clocked at six minute laps, and if they slowed down as they raced it didn’t show. I just take down numbers as they pass, so am unable to really keep up with lap speeds.  The two duking it out on the front are the same two that usually are: like Kirk and Jimmy, the Cat. 1/2/3 is usually a match between a young junior and a probably early-30s-aged racer. Night ‘cross had an announcer who was familiar with many of the Albuquerque-based riders, and did an excellent job of commentating the races as they progressed. Down on the field, we couldn’t see anything up on the rise where the bark section was, but I was happy to hear from the commentary that pretty much all the Cat. 1/2/3 guys were running the bark, like I had opted to do. Cool! I’d made a real-time strategy decision that not only worked for me but was ‘confirmed’ by the more experienced riders.

Then the Masters 50+, Single Speed and Cat. 4 guys lined up. It looked like a pretty big field; from where we were at the finish I couldn’t see Kirk nor tell the order they were starting in. I hoped it wasn’t Cat. 4s first – we know that doesn’t work so well. Thankfully when the first group of racers took off I could tell it was the Masters 50+ guys because I could see Kirk in the bright yellow SpinDoc jersey with a huge lead from the ‘hole shot.’ (Generally one rider jumps off the start faster than anyone else, usually from a point near the center of the starting line up, but not necessarily; they just manage to hit that extreme power surge in such a way that they immediately pull out in front, which is called ‘getting the hole shot.’)

Since I was helping the USA Cycling officials score and was unsure of protocol, I asked if it was okay for me to root for my husband. With the okay, I starting hollering at Kirk who was holding the lead he had over Jimmy. Wow, what a race! Jimmy would close the gap a little, then Kirk would pull away again. The commentator was having a ball calling the race, and Kirk got yells and cowbells from all over the course. As I listened while scoring, I learned that Jimmy was riding most of the bark while Kirk was running most of it. Riding it didn’t seem to give Jimmy any advantage, and Kirk by running it didn’t risk losing time by unsuccessfully riding and ‘getting off’ in it.

It was such an exciting race! In lap three, somewhere I couldn’t see from the scoring/finish area, something happened; as Jimmy and Kirk came back into my view, Jimmy was in the lead. Later, I learned that Kirk had missed that piece of blue tape next to the tree. It becomes such an optical illusion: the tape looks further back than it really is, and he hit upon it going so fast that he skidded out and went down as he tried to suddenly make the right turn around the tree.

They rode so hard and fast, and had quite a bit of a lead over the rest of their race. Riders spread out more and more over the course as the race progressed, and eventually resulted in the leaders passing the last riders. After his get-off, Kirk had about 3 ½ laps in which to close the gap to Jimmy. On the last lap, Jimmy and Kirk each changed their strategy, which the announcer took great glee in discussing: Jimmy opted to run the bark, and Kirk decided he didn’t have much to lose in trying to ride it.

I don’t know what the gap was initially – maybe 20 seconds or so – but by the time they crossed the finish line, Kirk had brought the gap way down to 7 seconds or so. If there had been just one more lap, he might have regained the lead; who knows. It was a great, fast, skilled and fun race.

Night ‘cross will always remain one of my favorites. I’m already looking forward to next year!

Cross Race Report #6; Vietnam Vet's Park, Albuquerque

Cyclocross Race #6

Saturday, Nov. 10, 2012

Vietnam Veterans Memorial Park; Albuquerque, NM

I not only didn’t ride the Vietnam Vet’s race last year, but I didn’t attend it either. I had dance workshops that weekend, so while Kirk raced I was dancing. I do remember him having a fun and good race, though, so I was looking forward to it.

Friday night, for the second week in a row, was a late one for me. Saturday was our youngest’s birthday, and I knew it would be too much to head home from racing and make dinner and birthday cake. So I stayed up Friday getting a jump on the cooking. There is more to that story, but I won’t go into that here!

However, when the alarm when off at 5:30 I was certainly not interested in getting up. Instead, we got up in time to drive down for Kirk to race and for me to help with scoring. It was pretty chilly; just in case I took clothing with me, and made sure that unlike the prior weekend I had everything I could possibly want if I in fact got to ride. The seed had been planted by Tove: she too didn’t intend to race the women’s 9:30 race and told me that we have the right to race with the Men’s Cat. 4. Since I was committed to helping score, I wasn’t certain I would get the opportunity but was ready if I did.

Antonia called as we drove down, and I was glad to tell her we were on the way. On arrival, we scoped out the course (but didn't get to ride it) and I met the race officials scoring the race who I had not worked with before. Antonia said I should in fact race, so I quickly put racing gear on and then layered sweat pants and stuff over it.

The Cat. 1/2/3 guys started their race, and watching them I got a sense of the course. Lots of grass, lots of switchbacks. In between races I quizzed one of the young top racers, Antonia’s daughter Tiziana who provided some helpful insights.  Then we cued up.  It was a big field, and once again they re-ordered the start with the Cat 4 guys going off first, then single speed, then Masters 50+.  Makes it pretty hard for the Masters men, many of whom are much faster and more experienced than the Cat. 4 guys. They spend much of the race trying to pass. I stayed at the way back of the field, with every intention of just riding my bike at the back of the pack.

And we were off. We raced up the black-top parking lot, and turned right travelling behind some apartments on a slight down slope. A left turn quickly became a 180º switchback, across a sandy descent to a fast straightaway and into grassy switchbacks. So far, so good. The barriers came up pretty quickly on the course, and I took ‘em pretty easy and slow. From there you rode another fast straightaway turning right on some loose sand (which I took pretty slow the first time until I discovered you could really maintain speed and not feel like you were going down).  A left turn up a sandy slope looked intimidating at first but I quickly found felt surprisingly stable. Riding down the other side put you back on grass, shallow concrete gutters and a series of switchbacks.

Passing the gutter a second time brought you to another long straightaway, great for passing or pushing some power. When I had the energy I stood and pushed as hard as I could. More switchbacks and a second pass at the pit took you back out to the outer grassy reaches of the field and yet more switchbacks. Passing some Cat. 1/2/3 women watching the race, I joked that it was enough to make you sea sick; they laughed and agreed.

The last stretch of concrete waterway (most of which was dry in spite of earlier precipitation) involved riding down it; coming off a very short but disconcertingly steep drop – it seemed almost like riding off a curb had you turning immediately to the left; if you over shot it, the other side of the gully was even steeper and would probably cause a get-off. I hoped each time it wouldn’t happen, and thankfully it never did. Riding down the gully, you actually rode back up an almost identical dirt “curb” which at this point showed the signs of hundreds of bike tires crossing it. You had to catch it at the right angle however as it was immediately followed by a switchback to the right. The next pass over the gully had lips steep enough that I bottomed out each time riding over one, rubbing the bottom bracket on the dirt.

A few more switchbacks led you to the finish line, and up a final set of broadly spaced stairs. It was sanding coming in to them, and I was afraid I’d miss the get off and over-compensated with a ridiculously early dismount. That’s okay: I meet one of my goals, which was not to be passed by the race leader on my first lap. As a matter of fact, as I gained confidence and maintained (or pushed) more speed, I really felt I held my own and didn’t get passed by the race leader until 2 and a half laps or so.

This was a fun course for me; I even pushed harder on some of those sandy spots and more technical areas than I would have in the past. I passed one of the Cat. 4 guys (yay!!!) and almost passed a second. I put my sights on him too close to the end.

It was fun to race with Kirk, although I only saw him once when he passed me in the switchbacks before the barriers. Most of the guys made it easy, too, announcing their arrival behind me and choosing a section to pass that made it easy for us all. Only twice did a racer try to pass me in the middle of a switchback; once I simply held my line and he had to wait until it was feasible. The second time it was a line of four riders – in themselves a distraction – I cut the turn too wide, and it was easier for me to simply stop and let them pass. I certainly encouraged riders to pass me where it was practicable for us all, but when it wasn’t I held my line.

Kirk had a fun race, too, and once again gave his chief competition Jimmy a run for his money. The race officials didn’t signal the race leaders that they were done on their last lap, though, and about five guys (including Jimmy and Kirk) raced an extra unnecessary lap.

It was a fun, fast race. Then we drove home and had a fun, festive birthday party for Lauren.  Next weekend. . . Night Cross! Hopefully we’ll see you there.

Cyclocross Race Report #5; Cuba, NM

Cyclocross Race Report #5
Saturday, Nov. 3, 2012

Cuba, NM

Race number 5; half-way through the NM series. We’re sure getting spoiled: the weather has been like eternal fall. I think of those racing in the northeast and the northwest, and think about how lucky we are.  It was chilly pulling in to Cuba, though. The thermometer on the truck registered 35º or something, and it wasn’t particularly sunny.  Although I had good layering options for racing I was woefully underdressed for the hanging out before and after part of the event. Luckily my travel companions were better prepared and even had extras to loan.

We got registered, and discovered we were an hour earlier than we needed to be; the schedule had been delayed an hour due to the extra drive time for most racers. That just gave us more time to relax, check out the course, and not be crazy-rushed as we so often are. Additionally, it gave more time for the sun to do it’s work and warm stuff up a bit!

I remembered this course. In some respects it seems the most “Belgian” as most of it is laid out in a pasture, complete with cow paddies.  There is a stretch of road, and a couple of short but a bit steep drops into a creek bed. Last year it had water in it; this year, the only water was off to the right side of the first dip.

Kirk read somewhere the statistics on gastrointestinal disorders in cross racers following a race on a pasture. The incidence of illness was very high. We joked about riding with our mouths shut to lower the chances of race-induced cow paddy illness!

Most of the course was like riding a road bike on a rumble strip: bumpy bumpy. Tove gave me some good tips and pointers, such as riding much of it hovering over the saddle, and rising out of the saddle coming out of the many switchbacks to stabilize the bike as well as give a bit of power and speed out of a turn. I was nervous about the second dip; the first one wasn’t so bad as long as you navigated the bike to the left at the bottom. If you overshot it, you went into the water. The second one, though, was steeper both down and back up, and had a sweeping right turn to it as well. The first pre-ride had me walking it; Tove and I went back shortly before race time to look at it, and I was able to ride it. Whew!

Lining up to race was casual beyond most races, and after the Cat 1/2/3 ladies took off we had a very unceremonious start when someone finally said, “Are we starting?” I wasn’t even with the Masters ladies, but was at the back of the pack. Oh well; it’s not like I’m racing! On the other hand, I didn’t want to get caught behind the riders who would be running the dips instead of riding them. I passed one or two on the pavement, but was still behind most as we hit the dips.

Right in front of me hitting them was Anne Keener, one of my co-masters racers.  On the second dip, she hesitated at the top, rode down, and got about half-way up the other side and somehow went over the handlebars in a spectacular jumble of body and bike. I immediately put my bike down and ran down the dip, as did the photographer that was stationed at the top. Anne was on her back, her bike on top of her and her legs intertwined. I think the right foot was still clipped in.  One of the juniors had stopped at the top, and I asked her to stand guard and warn any racers that came upon us that a rider was down. I wasn’t sure yet if we could even move Anne. We got her unclipped, extracted the left leg, and I was able to lift her bike off her. I still couldn’t determine the extent of any injuries, but it turned out she was mostly shocked and had the wind knocked out. I was relieved when she finally said she could get up; we each grabbed a hand, and carefully pulled her upright. At that point she told me to resume riding, so I left her in the hands of the photographer. I was amazed and impressed later to learn that she resumed riding herself, determined not to have her first DNF. Wow. What a trooper!!!

I hate the first lap anyhow; I spend much of feeling insecure about the course, my skills and wondering what the heck I’m doing, and is this really for fun? This one was no different.  By the second lap, though, I start to get into a groove, feel more confident, and am able to start sussing out where I can go harder, where I need to be extra focused, what parts are more challenging. I kept reminding myself to look through the myriad of turns, to keep my focus out, to hover over the saddle and apply power on the rumble strip of a race course. (Boy, had the race hosts worked hard on that course! They’d been out there with some kind of power mower, and hours of labor had been put in setting up and prepping that course.)

My second lap was the only one where I successfully rode both dips. After that, I had to run when someone in front of me did, or I didn’t have enough speed going into it to get up the other side and had to put a foot down to get over the top on the far side. I regained some positions, though, and eventually lapped Anne who was bravely making her way through the race. I too was lapped by the race leaders, cutting my race short by one lap. No complaints here!

And, thanks to attrition, I still came in second. I’m second in the state, too, but better start racing: the gal in third is not many points behind me.

I helped score the men’s Cat. 1/2/3 race, and then Kirk’s Masters 50+/singlespeed/Cat. 4 race. It’s not only nice to be able to help out, but it’s kinda neat to watch a race from another perspective.

The men’s Master’s 50+ race included a top racer down from Durango who gapped everyone by quite a bit. It was the first race I recall seeing where at least four riders were lapped twice by the leader. As always, those guys rode hard. It is impressive and inspiring to watch them.

On the last lap, coming in to the straightaway where the finish was Kirk clipped the last turn taking down the post, and – since he had a gap – taking his time to get situated and back on is bike to cross the line. Unlike most other forms of racing there is no timing chip involved; as long as you are ahead of the guy behind you, you are not “racing on the clock” and gain nothing by racing across the line. However, there is the occasional sprint to the finish when two racers are coming in at the same time, and they sprint to cross first.  Those are fun to watch.

The guys finished strong, Kirk in third and David in (I believe) fourth. We jettisoned out of there pretty quick as I had a show that night. As always, fun was had by all!

Post Script:

One of the juniors sprained a shoulder at that race; we hope he is doing okay. Anne’s tumble took more of a toll: her left shoulder is sprained, her right knee is in a brace, and the left may have a torn meniscus. She is getting an MRI on Monday, so we’ll know more then. Speedy recovery. Anne! All that, and she still finished her race. And hopes to ride Night 'Cross on the 17th. . . 

Cyclocross Race #4: Bosque 10/10/12

Cyclocross Race #4

Sunday, Oct. 10, 2012

On the Bosque, SW of Albuquerque

When I saw that Race #4 was at the Bosque, I knew what lay ahead. I remembered it well from Kirk racing it last year. About half of the race venues have a distinctive feature which makes them very memorable. The Pojoaque Wellness Center has the uneven rock stairs. The Bosque race features a very steep, loose sandy and rocky run-up. I remember standing at the top of it last year with Reyna, urging racers on, bikes on their backs as they ran up. Yeah, I knew exactly what we were in for.

I thought this was going to be our first really cold morning, but it wasn’t so bad and warmed up pretty quickly with the sun. We got to the Bosque with plenty of time to pre-ride most of the course, and what little I didn’t preview was a known entity: the run-up. No question as to the best strategy to tackle that one with!

The bulk of the course consisted of powder sand reminiscent of Polk Elementary and hard packed dirt. The sand on the Bosque was in the trees and generally not as deep as Polk, making them pretty navigable. The laps were long, though.

After the juniors, it was my turn. Many of the usual gals didn’t make it, so all three groups were small. To my interest, however, US mountain bike champ Nina Baum was there to race in the Cat. 1/2/3 women. (To read a brief bio on Nina, click here: http://notubesracing.com/womenselite/index.php/team-members/nina-baum/)  Although I knew I’d be left in the dust (literally!) I would have loved to ride behind her, watching, trying to copy, trying to follow her line. My only real hope was not to have her lap me in my first go ’round!

I decided to try to take off stronger than I usually do, and was all revved up to really race. It seemed a course where I might have some advantage as the sand was ride-able, and I’m pretty steady and faster than many on a run-up. The masters 50 women only had three takers so, as we lined up, Kirk hollered out that we all looked good for a podium spot. I didn’t recognize one of the women, and the other was Sheila, who always takes the first, so I figured I had a good shot at the silver. 

We took off, and I pedaled hard down the short packed straightaway holding my own while Sheila took off ahead of us. Taking a left turn we hit the first bit of shallow sand. Snaking right, then left, a right hander took us in a u-turn around a single very large tree under which lay some of the deepest sand, littered with sticks and leaves. On the first turn around the tree, my rear wheel went out from under me so much that I had to put a foot down.  Resuming, I saw the other rider in my group pulling away, and I pedaled hard to catch her. A little hard pack let me gain some momentum before I hit more sand. In some places there was a clear line showing where the sand wasn’t as deep or was more passable; in others the many grooves in the sand made it clear there was no “best line” to take.  Making my way through I hit another easier patch and put on a bit more speed again, still in my quest to catch and overtake the other woman.

More deeper sand heading into the maze of trees and whomp! No warning, I’m flying over the handlebars. I don’t remember anything – it happened so fast – I don’t remember how I landed, or getting up – but I recall a couple ladies behind me, passing me asking if I’m okay. I’m trying to figure out why my bike won’t move, why the front wheel is stuck. I’m about to throw it on my shoulder for my first ever run to the pit when I noticed a very short, thick stick barely sticking out from between the rim and the fork. I wiggled it out, and was relieved to find nothing more was amiss.

I jumped back on, but felt like the wind was knocked out of my sails. Now every bit of sand seemed harder to navigate, the winding through the trees was slow and I just knew short thick sticks lurked everywhere under all that sand. I was determined to simply finish, but I didn’t really want to finish last. Yet every time I had to put a foot down, or my back tire went out I wondered what the heck I was bothering for. It was a drag, and I spent the rest of the first lap trying to muster up some enthusiasm. Passing the pit on the first side took me out to a challenging 90-degree hard right up a sandy berm to a left turn into a sandy roll-down – the first part of that sequence was much more challenging than the roll-down which looked tenuous but was very manageable.

That led to something of an anomaly in ‘cross: a long straight length of packed dirt. Another left turn back down a mild slope led back into more sand, more switchbacks and more trees. Passing the far side of the pit to a u-turn around another tree brought some sand respite with a bit of packed dirt and emergence from the trees. Yay! No more sticks.

Heading around the second tree.

A right turn took us onto the last sandy stretch, and probably the most challenging. (On my last lap I saw one of the Cat 1/2 ladies slow considerably into that sandy right turn, which made me feel better. It’s not just me that slows down a lot heading onto the sand. When I talked to her later, she said she’d had two hard get-offs and, by the time I saw her, was proceeding with caution.)

Back to my first lap, I had a rough time on that last bit of sand. I was still out of sorts from my tuck-and-roll, and instead of struggling through the turns got off and rolled the bike a bit. I wasn’t racing any more, so what the heck. Glad I did so: I looked down, and saw an 18” long piece of heavy steel waiting to cause an accident. I picked it up – it was heavy – and threw it off the course. From that last sand strip it was pretty much all hard-pack past the run up, into a u-turn, down a sandy but manageable descent and back to the foot of the run up. I didn’t bother to run up it, at least the first time. I shouldered the bike, and kept moving but didn’t hoof it. At the top I remounted on gravel, and a mild down slope set you at the top of what, for me, was the most unnerving sandy descent. I rode it every time, and from there it was hard pack straightaway to the start/finish line to start Lap 2.

On lap 2 I gained a bit more confidence, and decided I really didn't want to finish last. Where comfortable, I tried to increase some power and speed. I rode all the sand under the trees, got a bit more of a feel for the dicey parts, and must’ve made up some time (even running up the run-up this time) as by lap 3 I passed a few Cat. 4 riders. I too got passed by Nina and several other Cat. 1/2 ladies – so I knew I would only be doing 3 laps total. That worked for me! Tove passed me heading into the last stretch of sand, so I stayed as close on her wheel as I could, and she called some tips as we rode: put a foot down here in the turn and throw the bike around it, then keep riding; take the outside line coming out of the sand there. It was awesome.

I did in fact avoid coming in last, but couldn’t exactly say I’d had a fun race.

Back at the truck I changed into civilian clothing so I could pit for the guys. Meanwhile, the Cat. 1/2/3 guys were racing. Like the women’s race, it included a notable: Travis Brown, an inductee into the Mountain Bike Hall of Fame in 2006 was there to race (see http://www.mtnbikehalloffame.com/page.cfm?pageid=6&memberid=156).

More or less on time the guys lined up to start: Kirk, David, Chip (one of SpinDoc’s ‘cross converts, out for his third race), and Peter, a friend of Tove and Jerry’s trying his hand for the first time. Randy, one of Albuquerque’s racers, was there, and we met a young man named Andrew who was racing under his employer’s kit, BTI (one of the biggest US distributors of bike parts who happens to be here in Santa Fe, and a frequent stop on the SpinDoc errand route). Tove and I headed to the pit nestled in the trees and sand as soon as the guys took off. Kirk and his chief competitor, a guy named Jimmy, simply duked it out for the first half of the race. Neck and neck, they pushed each other, but Jimmy finally got a bit of advantage on a switch back through the sand. It was fun to watch all the racers and cheer them on; I cheer everyone I know, and many I don’t. It’s such a help when you’re out there!

Tove heckling the guys: Kirk nearest Tove, then Chip and David

At one point David was heading towards the pit calling that he had a flat. I’d been holding Kirk’s “B” bike, and in the smaller-than-usual pit had to find a spot to quickly put it down and grab my Breezer hardtail for David. He’d never done a hand-off yet did a pretty quick transition. Meanwhile, I had help getting his rear wheel off and putting the spare wheel on, and then pumping the one that came off to see if the sealant inside could fix the flat. At the same time, I continued to watch for Kirk if needed to pit. When David came back around, we had his cross bike ready for him to switch back to. That run-up was painful with a mountain bike! He was happy but surprised to be able to jump back on and finish on his cross bike.

Jimmy chasing Kirk 'round the second tree in powder dirt 

All the while, Kirk had continued to gain on Jimmy again. He went from a 25 second gap to a 17 second gap and, by the time they crossed the finish line, Tove said it was a 9 second gap. Wow. That’s a hellova ride!

Chip and Peter had a good race, and ended up in a sprint against each other for the finish. We thought Peter was gonna get it, but Chip put his head down and crossed first. It was fun to watch. I think they both had fun – at least when we saw them, they were both grinning.

But then that’s cross!