Cyclocross Race
#1
Sunday, Sept.
22, 2012
La Cueva High
School, Albuquerque
It was only two
weeks before the first ‘cross race that Kirk realized we had double-booked our
biking events: we’d planned on finally riding the annual Acoma Pueblo ride,
something we’d always wanted to do, and it coincided with the season’s
inaugural ‘cross race. Oh well. As one of the sponsors of the New Mexico series
(we’re even on the t-shirts!) we felt it was important to be at the first race.
Interbike (the
annual industry trade show) wrapped up on Friday and we spent Saturday driving
back from Las Vegas, NV. We spent
Saturday night in Albuquerque to save the Santa Fe round trip. Race morning was beautiful and cool (at
least compared to Vegas, where the high each day was at least 100° -- although
I know Santa Fe had a record high of 84° on Saturday). Having stayed in the NE
part of Albuquerque, it was easy and quick to get to La Cueva High School, our
youngest daughter, Lauren, in tow.
Racing age in
cyclocross is based on what your age will be when the current year’s World
Championships are held (this year’s is January 2013). With my birthday being December 29th, my racing
age this year (while I’m actually 50)
is 52. Huh? It’s because I turn 51 at the end of this year, but in January when
Worlds take place, I turn 52. I try to look at it as an age advantage instead
of premature aging!
Anyhow, my
scheduled race time was 9:30. Kirk and I got to pre-ride the course together a
couple of times before the juniors started their race. I remembered the
location and so had a pretty good idea what to expect. There are only a couple
of technical sections: a sandy but not steep descent that, if hit too fast
might result in a crash into a stand of metal bleachers, that then turned left over
some grapefruit-sized rocks; a steep short climb up around a tree that was fast
becoming a slippery mud slope; and two off-camber switchbacks, the first
steeper than the second. With this info in mind, the next task was sussing out
my plan: if I couldn’t ride up around the tree, which was followed by the first
off-camber switchback, was I faster running it all? Or climbing back on the
bike and riding the short stretch in between? What if I couldn’t navigate the
second switchback either? Then would I run the entire distance? Hmmmm.
When I rode
three ‘cross races last year, I was quite content to take a spot at the back of
the pack on the starting line. However, this year the groupings have changed,
and my group (Masters 50+) races with the Women’s Cat. 1/2/3 and Women’s Cat. 4
(beginners) – all the women except
juniors. And this race had the highest ever entry of 32 ladies! The officials
had us line up from most experienced to least, so my group was second to start,
Cat 4 starting last. With nine Masters 50+, we were all on the starting line-up
together. 15 seconds after the Cat. 1/2/3 riders started, we were off.
Right there on
that first straight away I had to make a decision – only two riders took off
for the “hole shot,” and most were already lagging. I decided it would be
better to try to get out in front of the majority of them instead of getting
stuck at the very first turn behind other bikes. My first “strategy decision”
was a sound one.
I found a
YouTube clip that someone took of the Men’s Cat. 4 race with a helmet-mounted
camera.
(See http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OU_6lhGRdUo&feature=em-share_video_user).
If you watch the video, you’ll see that the course takes a sweeping right turn
on a mild descent enabling you to get some good speed before you hit a running
track. “Hit” is the operative word here: there was quite a lip at the edge of
the track, and several flat tires were a result of hitting that lip hard. I
looked down at my wheels expecting a flat each time I crossed it then buckled
down to go as hard as I could on the track.
On the back side
of the track there was a tough head wind; winding around the other end and back
to where we entered, you hit a right switchback climbing up to the pit area,
then circling back around yourself, and down past the end of the track. From
there, that slippery sandy descent led to the bleachers and the baby-head rock
garden.
After the rock
garden, you hit grass where the steep wet climb past the tree opened onto the
two off-camber switchbacks. More grass, around another tree, and up towards the
parking lot dumped you onto concrete and a five-stair run up.
The next section
was the “puke point” – the hardest part, where you wondered what the hell you
were doing this for and praying there was only one lap left to go. Up a false
flat to a switch back, coasting down it (and hoping for some recovery) and another
switchback climbing back up it led to a serpentine switchback section on the
grass and to the two barriers. They are crazy to see in the video: you can’t
see the rider get off his bike since the camera is on his helmet, and just see
these two dark colored things appear under the bike. After racing around the
back of a football field, you return to the start/finish area.
Racing with 31
other riders presents challenges: passing, being passed, getting around
crashes, avoiding crashing yourself. I saw that Tove had had a mechanical of
some sort, and I passed her as she was running with her bike towards the pit.
Later I learned she had hit that lip onto the track and broken her carbon
wheel; unfortunately that is a very expensive “mechanical.” She had a long way
to go, too: all the way around the track and up to the pit.
When I finished
the race, I figured I must’ve done it right as my chest hurt and I coughed for
several hours afterwards. Kirk refers to that as ‘lung cheese.’ I felt good
about my ride, and figured I was somewhere in the top half of the nine Masters
ladies I rode with. I didn’t fall, I handled all my dismounts pretty well
(although my remounts are terrible and slow), never got the climb around the
tree or the first off camber switchback, but I did get the second one every time, and mastered another one by the
end of the race. I admit I was quite dismayed at one point going past the
start/finish where they post the number of remaining laps to see it went from 1
more to 2 more. . . . . . . .what? Are
you kidding me? Oh well, someone messed up the lap count I guess.
Kirk and his
group (also a new combination of riders, including Masters men 50+, single
speed, and Men’s Cat. 4) raced at noon or so. Unfortunately, they were
dispatched in a different order from my group. The women’s Cat. 4 went last; in
the men’s race, they sent the Cat. 4 guys off first. Fifteen seconds later you had the far more experienced (and
often far more fit) 50+ riders catching most of the Cat. 4 guys. There
immediately was a bottleneck at the first turn, riders jockeying for position. Kirk had jumped on the hole shot,
immediately getting the advantage of his group. The girls and I stood by the
barriers to get photos as the guys went by: Kirk, David and Jerry were all
racing together.
With Tove
manning the pit we were free to take the role of photographers. Our next position was down by the track.
By now the guys knew the best tactic for the lip onto the track was to bunnyhop
it (as a matter of fact, David had flatted on the lip during a pre-ride of the
course). We saw Kirk flying down
towards the track on lap 2; I glanced down at my camera, and looked up to see
him flying over his handlebars. I didn’t know until later what had caused his
fall. He had bunnyhopped the lip, and a Cat. 4 guy on his left suddenly turned
his handlebars to the right, and in order to avoid hitting him Kirk turned
sharply and rolled his tire off the rim. He slid up the track on his back, but
really got lucky: few broken bike parts, no broken bones, just impressive road
rash on his right elbow and a stripe of rash down his back through his skin
suit (but not even any mending for me to do!). The tire had rolled right off
the rim rendering it useless, so he did the same run Tove had done a few hours
prior.
Tove was ready
in the pit, and he ran in, handed off his bike, and jumped onto the designated
spare bike he was sharing with Jerry. While he pedaled off, Tove was already
working on his “A” bike, getting the wheel off, finding a new one to put on it.
By the time he got around, he was able to pit again and jump back on his
Lapierre. It was amazing how much time he made up; his skills and fitness level
are such that he simply eats up the course. I don't know how many positions he
regained, but it was amazing to watch.
All in all, in
spite of the crashes and flats (and broken wheels) on the track lip, it was a
great first race of the series. I was surprised and pleased to learn I’d come
in 3rd of the nine ladies in the Masters 50+ category, and landed in
the top ten of all women too. My fourth cross race ever, and the first on a
cross bike, landed me on the podium. Wow. Kinda cool! Thank goodness for all
that mountain biking this summer.
Kirk’s scrapes
were so minor that no immediate bandaging was necessary, so bikes were loaded,
kids loaded, and the last hour’s drive from our Interbike trip was undertaken.
It was nice to be home, and a nice way to start the ‘cross season. It’s easy to forget under those
conditions how cold it’s going to be in December when the race starts at 9:30
AM. . . . Ah! Psychocross. Ain’t nothin’ like it.
