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This blog is to report the goings on at SpinDoc. Everything from race reports to training blogs.

Friday, December 21, 2012

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!




Saturday, December 8, 2012

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. 1st 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 78ยบ. 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.