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!

NM Cyclocross Race Report #3

Cyclocross Race #3

Sunday, Oct. 7, 2012

Polk Middle School, Albuquerque

Cross race number three. . .already! We almost didn’t make it though. It was an early wake-up, and the bed was awfully cozy and warm, and it looked cold outside. It was one of those mornings when it would be really easy to fall back into a deep sleep in spite of an alarm clock wake-up. After about 20 minutes of debate, we got rolling.

Polk was one of the first cross races I did last year on my mountain bike. I remember it well as there was a patch of snow on part of the course (it was one of the last races of the season last year). The course was totally different this year, featuring a crazy amount of powder-fine sand. I keep comparing it to the difference in texture between powdered confectioner’s sugar and salt – one is powder, the other granules. This was more akin to powdered sugar than salt!

Due to our tardy arrival I didn’t get to pre-ride the course. My racing pals Ann Keener and Tove talked me through some sections, describing which line to take, where it was dicey, what was ride-able and what wasn’t. The younger juniors started their race, and Tove led me to one front corner section and, when no kids were coming, we jumped onto it to ride a challenging section.

Then it was race time.

We took off with 10 seconds or so between groups, speeding off along a wide concrete path behind the school. A round-about much like a traffic circle led to a straight-away heading to the street and a wide u-turn. Racing back up half-way, the course then turned left into some fairly deep sand leading to the two barriers. After jumping the barriers, the surface changed from soft sand to grass as you rode along a fence line below trees to the back corner of a ball field. The tree roots growing under the grass made for surprise bumps, some pretty big if you hit them at speed. Behind the ball field were a few switchbacks, but all were easy to ride. Riding out from the corner I found you could get up some real speed, even on the grass – especially if you stood and pedaled. It was a great place to pass.

Then came the sand. Lots of it. Powder sand. It was piled higher and seemed softer on the right, as if someone had started to shovel a path on the left, slinging the sand to their right. I didn’t even try to ride it, although perhaps I should have. I dismounted at the beginning, and ran the left side, rolling the bike along next to me (or picking it up and holding it, but I never bothered with shouldering it).

Turning right you ran down a little gully edged on both sides with piles of soft deep sand. Up on the other side, though, I found I could remount and ride as the sand was much more packed. Even though we had a little 18-inch soft sand drop again, I learned I could ride it as long as I didn’t try to turn or break going down it. Instead, I rode in a straight line, coming out on the far left side of the course at the bottom, which again was packed sand. There, if you had the energy, you could again get some good speed. That was the spot on this course where I asked myself what the hell I was doing. There is one of those spots on each course, where you consider bailing and getting a DNF.

Riding up another soft sanding lip (or for me, riding it as far as I could, then putting a foot down to push myself the rest of the way up) set you upon another length of packed sand to this course’s nuttiest feature. (Tove’s comment was this course was a little circus-esque for her tastes; that sums it up quite well.) In the middle of a large flat of semi-packed sand was a spiral; you rode around the spiral, tighter and tighter as you got to the middle, at which point there was a tight little ‘S’ which turned you back to spiral out. For me, it was a matter of really focusing out ahead of myself, and slowing down as I got into the center and the circles got smaller.

Here too is where a strategy decision had to be made. Although I couldn’t ride the ‘S’ turn in the middle, I kept trying. Sometimes I was able to make my way around with a foot down, and then resume pedaling – other times I think I got off for the second part of the turn. Either way, it wasn’t particularly fast. In watching the men’s races later, I noticed they ALL got off before the first turn into the ‘S’, and simply ran the whole thing, jumping back on their bikes to spiral back out. I suspect it was much, much faster.

After the spiral, one raced back out along packed sand and past the pit, up another soft lip and onto a small bit of pavement. That led to the one dicey area Tove and I pre-rode, and that Ann gave me so much info on. One rode down a sandy and rocky short descent into a ditch. If you rode up on the right, out of the ditch, it was solid earth and very stable – it just looked scary as it was off-camber. It lowered back into the ditch, and although you could ride back up out of the ditch, the course circled behind a tree surrounded by deep power sand. I asked later, and no one was able to ride around the tree.  Returning to pavement, you also rode back to the start/finish line to start lap two. Yipes; lots of sand time per lap!

As always, my first lap was my worst lap.  By lap two I settled down. I found I could really speed around the traffic circle, with the bike more leaned into the turn than I have ever ridden before; I could ride the sand up to the barriers; I could easily ride the switchbacks on the grass, and pick up a lot of speed on the grass straightaway leading to the sand. I was faster running the sand than some, and was able to pass there. It was the spiral that got me – I was pretty slow going round and round, and the ‘S’ turn in the middle was like a thorn in my side. On the corner with the ditch, I rode the off camber dirt each time starting with lap 2, which made me happy. I always tried to ride around the tree, but did pretty well remounting and “keeping it rolling.” On lap four, I had determined that Tiziana, our NM National Champ for her age group, was the race leader. If I was passed by her, I would be doing one less lap. She was close behind me in the spiral, so I called out to her to pass me, please! She hollered back, “Don’t go so fast!” It made me laugh out loud as I felt like a snail going in circles.

I was surprised later to learn that I’d come in second of my group out of four.

With the current schedule, we have about 1½ hours between my race and Kirk’s.  Not long enough to go anywhere or do anything other than hang out and wait. SpinDoc team rider David Sammeth had arrived by then, and upon a test lap on his cross bike he asked if he could ride my Breezer hardtail for his race instead. Mountain bikes definitely had an advantage on this course. His cross bike became his pit bike, and the Breezer became his “A” bike. Kirk had his Lapierre for his main stead, and Tove and Jerry’s BCD as his pit bike.

Watching the Men’s 1/2/3 race, it was clear that the best strategy for the ‘S’ turn was dismount and run the whole thing. Dang, I wished they raced before me so I could glean those things before I rode! Jerry rode with this group instead of the Masters Men as he had to leave. I asked him later how that was, and he said it was great; he could follow behind a rider, taking his same line, following his lead. They are so skilled and smooth, it made for an easier, informed and very fun ride for him.

Kirk and David and the other Masters Men lined up, with single speed and Cat. 4 riders behind. They all took off like a shot, racing up to the right turn leading into the round about. At the barriers they had started to spread out a little, but there were still a large number of riders grouped together. When they hit the spiral, it created a cloud of dust that engulfed the riders. No wonder Kirk coughed for hours afterward! 

The more experienced masters riders all got off and ran the ‘S’ turn, but some of the less experienced Cat. 4 guys did as I had, and tried to ride it. As I was working the pit, I didn’t get to see how they did at the ditch and sandy tree segment. Turning around, I could watch – and holler – as they all rode past on the start/finish straight-away.

I had warned Kirk that the tree roots would be an easy chain drop location, and was happy to hear he had none of those issues on this course. As a matter of fact, none of our riders had mechanicals that day, although someone was always in the pit just in case. Just good clean – okay, good sandy fun. That’s ‘cross!

Cyclocross Race #2, 9/29/12, Pojoaque

Cyclocross Race #2

Sunday, Sept. 29, 2012

Pojoaque Fitness Center, Pojoaque

Race number two! Although I didn’t attend the Pojoaque Fitness Center race last year, I remember it vividly from the first year Kirk raced cross. It would be hard to forget due to one unique feature: much of the course centers around a football field (as many do), but this includes a two flight run-up of uneven stone steps overlooking the field. One doesn’t forget that quickly, even if one didn’t actually run it with a bike on their shoulder. Those steps loomed large in my head as we drove to Pojoaque.

We were donating coffee and bagels as part of our sponsorship of this year’s season, so we picked up bagels from NY Deli (too expensive and only okay) and 2.5 gallons of coffee from the DeVargas Starbucks (cool! they goofed and gave us the 5 gal instead! Not cool! The lid doesn’t seal any more, and coffee sloshed out from under the lid the entire drive up.) It was beautiful, clear and a little cool as we pulled in to the Fitness Center.

The course was open for pre-ride, so Kirk and I set off on our bikes to ride it through a time or two. It started with lots of snaking switch-back on the grassy football field, and the grass was wet from the prior day’s rains. And I mean wet. Wet grass sucks the energy from your legs; it’s kinda like mud, not as dicey as sand. Switchbacks on wet grass made for slow going, at least for me.  The first set dumped you out on the running track around the field, so that was a great place to pick up some speed and/or pass, before re-entering the grass for more switchbacks on the other end of the field. It was even wetter at that end; some water even pooled in some areas.

Those switchbacks led you to a long straightaway still on the field, running next to the section of track you’d just zoomed up. A third set of switchbacks (including one really tight double switchback) let to the set of barriers, a third pass up the length of the football field to the last set of switchbacks, entrance back onto the running track, and the last easy bit of fast riding on the course. Exiting the track and navigating a switchback to the left too you to the stairs.

To my relief (and dismay) there was only one section of stairs included in this year’s race. At the top of the run-up, one jumped back on the bike and headed off to the right on dirt, to a slight descent, through some deep gravel, and onto a packed dirt road. From there you began to climb. It didn’t seem so steep…at first. The climb led you up to the Pueblo Governor’s house, past his driveway, and then a descent down the back. A right turn on gravel led to a short little climb, a descent and back onto black-top, and a 90-degree right turn into the Fitness Center entryway.

Passing the building there was a right-and U-turn to the parking area which sported a nice big puddle. I couldn’t tell how deep the puddle was, or if there was a big pothole in it somewhere, so although it was harder to navigate the climb up in the sharp u-turn, I always went to the far right to avoid the puddle. Later I learned it was faster and easier to ride the biggest part if the puddle as there were no unseen dangers lurking under the water. Oh well. Another 90-degree turn, this time to the left, took one past the second pit entry and back to the first set of switchbacks.

Whew. What a course! So much wet grass. . . .so many switchbacks, some of them pretty tight. . .then that climb on the back. . . none of it particularly unnerved me, I just knew I’d be slow on the switchbacks, and wouldn’t be aggressive on the gravel descent after the Governor’s house, especially hitting that right turn in gravel.

I did figure 8s in the parking lot while the 13-14 kids started the day of racing to keep limber and get my body moving into the turns.

At the starting line of my race.

We were up next: Women’s Cat. 1/2/3, Masters Women 50+, and Cat. 4 Women. This week I only lined up with two other Master’s Women. About 8 Cat. 1/2/3 ladies were ahead of us ranging in age from 16 to 60. About 10 Cat. 4 gals where behind us, many of them first or second time racers. The first group went off, and we were 15 seconds later. I watched the other two gals take off, and I felt like waving and calling “see ya!” I just am not that fast off the line. . . but I usually make up for some of it during the course of the race.

The first lap is tough. I find myself apprehensive, and take stuff slow, and don’t fall into a groove at all. I remember passing Callum and Jerry at the finish line keeping score, and calling out, “This isn’t fun at all!” as I went by. From there up the stairs – not as bad I as expected ‘em to be – onto the dirt descent which felt a little dicier than I’d anticipated, ditto the gravel leading to the dirt road climb – the climb is one of my power points, so I pushed speed as much as I could on the climb, breathing really hard at the top.

On the long descent I coasted, hands on brakes at the ready, and certainly didn’t add any speed by pedaling. To my surprise it all felt very solid, and was a good place to catch a little recovery. I took the right hand gravel turn relatively slowly, as I did on the turn into the entry to the Fitness Center. The climb to the parking lot through the puddle took me off guard – much steeper and harder to navigate the turn to the right than I anticipated.

With lap two I started to settle into a grove, passed a few people, got passed by a few, and started to figure out tempos in different sections. However, coming down the straightaway on the running track and heading towards the soft dirt leading towards the bottom of the stairs I came across a toddler – about 3 yrs old if I had to guess – on the course, the mom standing off to the side. I was incredulous. I yelled at the mom, “Get her off the course! Either she’s going to get hit by a bike, or a cyclist is going to go down, and neither of those would be good!” I couldn’t believe it. Dogs on the course are bad enough. .  .but a toddler????

Finishing lap two, I came down the descent on the back towards the Fitness Center entry to see one of the Cat. 4 ladies on her side on the ground at the apex of one of the turns, with folks around her. By the time it was all said and done, she was taken off by ambulance with a suspected fractured femur and a good dose of morphine. Yipes. That wasn’t even a section I had thought twice about.

By the time I climbed the back for the fourth time I was deciding I wouldn’t mind if I got passed, which would cut a lap off my race. I couldn’t tell who the race leader was; I just knew that the person I had been playing “tag” with (I’d pass her on the climb, she’s pass be in the switchbacks on the grass – but then she was riding a mountain bike instead of a cross bike) was suddenly gone – we’d reached the bottom of the stairs and instead of heading up them ahead of me, she pulled to the side and let me go up first.  Sure enough I got around to the finish line and Jerry called me out, as I had indeed been passed by the race leader. I was done.

The littlest little kids went next. Some of their bikes are the same size as the kid! They go for it, too, many of them.

I volunteered to help score the next two races so that Jerry could race. It is initially a matter of writing down bib numbers as the riders race past, but when they come in bunches it gets challenging. Moreover, as riders get passed, or have a mechanical somewhere and you don’t know why they haven’t come back around it gets challenging to keep track.  It was fun to watch the race from a different perspective.

The Cat. 1/2/3 men were next. It was a large group. From the opposite side of the track, I heard a loud dense sound – it didn’t sound at first like a crash, but it was. A couple guys went down right at the start, so we assumed that someone had tapped another bike’s wheel. Later we learned one racer hadn’t gotten his foot onto the pedal and instead got it in his spokes, and went down. A fractured wrist sent the second racer of the day to the emergency room. Said racer is an orthopedic surgeon no less.

Those guys rode hard. They did the most laps of any group that day. Their race is an hour, and they must’ve done 7 laps. 

Right after they finished, Kirk’s group raced. As the last race of the day, they often have the most spectators which is fun. And they too go hard. They zipped from the start line on the track to the first stair run up, coming to the dirt at the base of the stairs like a bunch of hornets. Here most of them took a different tactic than I: I rode into the switchback at the bottom, then swung a leg over to dismount and run the stairs. The more experienced racers, however, dismounted before the switchback and were already heaving bikes onto their shoulders to do the run up – probably saving time over my method. There is so much strategy to cyclocross!

Two guys who attended our cyclocross clinic came to race and did a good job. It was fun to see Chip and Tom race, and to cheer them on. Congrats on your first cross race, guys!

I heard there was one more injury – someone got a deep enough cut on the chin to require stitches – but I never saw anyone that fit that description, so I don’t really know if that is true or not.

Kirk’s chain got dropped twice – hard bumps and putting down the bike hard can both cause the chain to jump off the chainrings. One time he was able to shift and pedal and get it back on; I assume the other time he had to put it on by hand. He still came in a strong second in spite of the mechanicals. David had a good ride, too, coming in third. Jerry however said he felt flat and not so great. I can relate; this course was tough with the wet grass, and I too never felt like I settled into a groove as I did the week prior. Tove had a strong, strong ride with, to my knowledge, no mechanicals or crashes.

In spite of all the injuries, the weather was great, the hail held off until we were done, and the SpinDoc crew had a darned good time. That’s ‘cross!

(We don't have much in the way of photos due to the fact that there are photography restrictions on the Pojoaque Pueblo; once we realized that, Kirk put the camera away. However, there are tons of great pics on the Dash for Life facebook page.) http://www.facebook.com/pages/DASH/258862347486719?sk=photos_stream

Cyclocross Race Report #1; 9/22/12

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 29^th, 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 3^rd 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.

Fundraiser Set for May 20th

Hello, cycling enthusiasts:

It's fundraiser time! We're going to do something a little different this time: we're going to tie in our fundraising event with the Santa Fe Century. Here's how it will work:

For those riding the Century, get sponsors for your ride. They can pledge a set dollar figure, or an amount per mile you ride. Start collecting pledges now! You can pick up sponsorship forms at SpinDoc or print them off the web site under the "Resources" tab.

For those who prefer to ride inside, we'll provide the usual open ride here at the shop from 9:00 to 2:00. As always, you can come ride as little or as long as you want. Suggested donation is $10 per hour of riding if you opt out from getting sponsors. For this ride too you can get pledges for your ride! Have sponsors pledge a set amount, or an amount per hour of riding.  Use the same form, available at SpinDoc or available on our web site, for your sponsors. 

We will be raising funds for World Bicycle Relief. If your sponsors wish to write checks, please have them made payable to World Bicycle Relief. 

Please spread the word to folks riding the Century and to those who have considered checking out a spin class. Our fundraisers are a fun, low-key way for people to try a Lemond Revmaster spin bike while supporting a great cause.

We have a fundraising page at World Bicycle Relief; To make a donation directly or view how much we've raise thus far, please visit http://www.worldbicyclerelief.org/page/outreach/view/individual/SpinDoc

Spread the word; let's see what we can pull in this time! Best regards to one and all,

Kirk, Chandler and Jonathon

2012 Kona 24 Hours in the Old Pueblo

Hi, two-wheeler enthusiasts:

I apologize for the delay in getting this written. Many of you have been asking how 24 Hours in the Old Pueblo went this year. The short response is "Great!"

For more details, read on.

For the second year in a row, Kirk was riding with David Sammeth as a duo (the first year Kirk did the race solo).  With the truck fully loaded with 6 mountain bikes (2 for each racer, and one for David's wife Janine, and one for me) the guys took off mid-afternoon on Wednesday, February 15th. This year we'd rented a smaller RV near the race site, eliminating the towing and diesel mileage. The guys picked it up Thursday morning, and drove to the race site outside Oracle, AZ.  Kirk says it was already mostly parked up, indicating people had started arriving well before the noon Thursday entry time. With the promise of Janine and I doing some volunteering, Kirk was permitted to drive in and park opposite where we'd parked the two prior years, in what turned out to be a far better site (more level, for one thing!) When Kirk called me Thursday evening, they'd ridden the course once, and said it was in great condition and rode fast.

On Friday, Janine and I flew into Tucson. Kirk and David picked us up at the airport, and we took a leisurely afternoon, eating a large and late lunch. In oder to guarantee a good night's sleep pre-event, we were booked into a hotel for Friday. We had a fab dinner at a local small restaurant someone had told David about, then headed to the hotel for a soak in the hot tub before bed.

The next morning we headed to the race venue, stopping for a protein-rich breakfast on the way. The weather was perfect: sunny, clear, and approaching the low 60s by noon. We got moved into the RV, organized the gear, and got David ready for the start of the race. It starts with a run: From about 400 yards, the racers run down a dirt road, past campers, to a holding area for the bikes, locate their steed, and hop on. David decided not to run in bike shoes, and sent Janine off with his shoes as well as his bike. Kirk accompanied him up to the start, and they were off. 

Running start

Where's my bike???!!!

Shoes changed, final send-off from Janine

The guys figured on 1:30 lap times, and Kirk got ready to take over as the plan was alternate every lap.  In the meantime I climbed up on the back of the RV to get a photo of 24 Hour Town.

Tents, trailers, campers and RVs parked in tight at 24 Hour Town

Next up! Kirk gets ready for his first lap

At the appointed time, we walked Kirk up to the exchange tent to wait for David. At the finish of the 16.1 mile lap, the riders dismount their bikes and walk into a very large tent called the Exchange Tent. There, they check in with a volunteer who records their lap/exchange time and witnesses the teammates exchanging the two inch long dowel that is their race 'baton.'  From outside we could hear the announcer called their number, 275, and we knew David was in and Kirk would come out looking for his bike. It was funny to watch people running out, hard, frantically looking for their bikes. Those were people taking it seriously, usually on 4 or 5 person teams who were competing. The rest, knowing the were doing a lot of riding over the next 24 hours, walked out in a relaxed manner.  The exchange done and Kirk off, we walked back to the RV conveniently parked right up the road. The first task for the rider coming in was food; I'd prepared Guinness Stew and individual Chicken Pot Pies in advance of the trip, so we were well armed with what would hopefully remain appealing food. Food becomes a big issue with the amount of calories burned per lap. Each started with guinness stew after their first laps, and as much snacks as we could get in them.  The laps were fast and trouble free, closer to 1:20 THAN 1:30.  No technical problems with bikes, no jumping cholla attacks. Oh yeah, jumping cholla. . .remember that stuff? Here's what it looks like.

No run-ins with this stuff!! Yay!

The race continued so smoothly that Janine and I took off and did our own bike ride, which was awesome. We rode way up the road we'd driven in on, to an area where the course passes nearby. Our calculations put Kirk pretty much at that spot at that time, and we waited so we could cheer him as he passed. We must've missed him by literally a minute or less.   We finally gave up, and finished our ride instead.  By David's third lap it was time to install lights on his bike and helmet; although he was starting in light, it would be dusk by the time he finished. Sure enough, he was glad to have the lights as he finished. Kirk headed off for the first night time lap, and we continued feeding, lubing bikes and rotating riders through. They were having fun and the weather was holding although the temp was starting to drop. 

We figured several things out that really made this event more pleasant and, as a result, more successful: the right food (savory, fairly easy to digest, easy to heat and dish out); regular changes of clothing.  Wet sweaty clothes were exchanged regularly for dry; trading every single lap, instead of after two laps as they tried last year; and a goal of 12 laps with sleep in the schedule from roughly midnight to 5, staggered based on ending and starting riders. David rode a 7th lap putting him in after midnight; Kirk was in bed, having been fed and his legs massaged. At about that time, Janine and I went to the exchange tent to volunteer for an hour or so. It was great to view the race from inside. As a volunteer, you're in charge of  a notebook with anywhere from 50 to 75 teams log-sheets inside. The announcer calling rider numbers outside is mostly for the benefit of the volunteers inside. With something like 600 solo riders and teams (I'm gestimating approx. 1600 riders altogether) it takes quite a few volunteers to man those logbooks. When you heard one of your team numbers, you would quickly find their page, check the digital clock provided to each station, ask the name of the rider coming in, write in the name of the rider going out, and (at the least) watch them hand the baton between them. Those really following the rules would hand it to the you, and you'd hand it to the next rider. Most got over that formality pretty quickly though.  If a team took a break, they would leave the baton with you; if it didn't have the team number written on it, you'd write it on the baton.  And as is typical, you'd sit there for 10 minutes, then have three teams come in at once. It was the same as outside -- those trying to race competitively wanted to be in and out as quick as possible; those enjoying the sheer insanity of the event were pretty casual about the exchange. Our one hour of volunteering turned in to two, and as we walked back to the RV at 2 AM we were shocked at the temperature drop. It was cold!!!!

I was back up with Kirk shortly before 6, and heard the announcer from the exchange tent asking for more volunteers. I headed over, and took over a book that included even more teams than my first book. After a while Janine joined me, and relieved the woman who had relieved her originally at 2 AM! We ended up working until the end of the race, which was fun in itself. Here's how the race ends: if a rider comes in before noon, he MUST go out for one more lap. Those trying to get in as many as possible tried to time it so that they made it before the noon cut-off so one more lap would be on their total. For many, though, the timing was imperative to get in AFTER noon so they were done. by 11:30 riders were lining up outside the exchange tent, waiting for noon before they entered to avoid that last lap. One poor guy got to close, though, and triggered the computer. . .forcing him to take one more lap or be considered a DNF (did not finish). He looked pretty miserable at the news. The top solo rider came in intentionally before noon, finishing lap 17, and heading out for this 18th. Now that's kinda sick! Sure enough, at noon, riders strolled in, checked in, and showed us their batons. Some strolled in already changed and with beer in hand, getting their official "finish" time nonetheless. It was actually quite festive, and many, many folks were quite relieved to be done. 

The guys enjoyed their morning laps: they'd gotten some rest, and were warmed up and fed some hot oatmeal, and ready for those last few times around. We packed up quickly, got the RV ready to drop off, and head for home. Mission accomplished, we hit the road; the drive was uneventful until we hit Santa Fe where near white-out conditions made the last 10 miles very, very challenging. Home shortly after midnight, this year's 24 Hours in the Old Pueblo was deemed a rockin' success: fun was had by all, 13 laps were completed (4 more than last year!), and we were all home.

I think next year we're gonna try something new, maybe the Mt. Taylor Quad. . . and April's Dusk to Dawn 12 hour race will feel like a piece of cake.

Best regards,

Chandler, Kirk and Jonathon

Kirk's Masters World Championship Race

I finally get to write the final race report of the cyclocross season: Kirk's championship race. And what a race it was!

It's his lucky number!

The morning of the Men's 50-54 World Championship race finally dawned sunny, clear, and calm. It was cold, but not brutally cold. By the time we cleared out of the hotel room and got to the race site, it was in the low 20s. The parking area where I'd helped push cars out of the mud was now covered with bark mulch and frozen hard, and the entry to the parking field had been diverted to a new area.  We could see additional modifications that had been made to the course. In some sections the stakes had been pulled up and moved over the course width, running alongside the original line but now on dead weeds instead of the deep frozen muddy ruts of the original course.

An entire section in the back of the course, which wove its way through trees up and down a steep hillside, had been removed since the seeding heat.

Once parked, Kirk jumped on the back of the truck to pull his race bike and pit bike down only to discover that the locks linking all the bikes together were frozen. Using a "U" lock as a hammer (sorry about that Jerry), Kirk got the padlocks off, bikes down, the trainer set up and the derailleur on the Colnago adjusted. The bikes didn't like being in the cold, the brake cables moved very sluggishly and the gears wouldn't shift, so I set them leaning against the truck to sun bathe. After being in the rain Thursday and then freezing Thursday afternoon and Friday they definitely worked better after warming up.

Lesson - sleep with your race bike the night before an event.  Especially a World Championship.  Duh!

While Kirk warmed up, I watched a women's championship race that was underway. It was the second race of the morning. Several times I saw racers inadvertently ride off the race course, through the course tape, jumping off, and running their bikes back onto the course to resume racing. That told me that the ruts were still frozen, and if caught off guard the racers couldn't get out if the rut misdirected them. Plus the women's lower body weights were a disadvantage in terms of riding the ruts -- they were much less able to force their way across through weight and power than men would be.

Warming up on the trainer

Before long Kirk went to ride over to the start line, and I walked the Colnago over to the pit area. My concern today was not a pit swap due to mud/no shifting, but a mechanical. Riding ruts like these could cause derailleurs hangers to break, tires to flat, etc. I don't have the skill set to take care of a pit mechanical, but wanted to cover my bases. As such, I went to the neutral SRAM support tent and confirmed that I could get help should we have a problem. The guy I talked to indicated that he still anticipated mud being a problem, so I high tailed it back to the truck, got our bucket and brushes, went to the water truck for a dose of water, and got back to the pit area before Kirk's race began. Better safe than sorry.   Between races a green backhoe showed up next to the pit, and a guy with a shovel scooped dirt out of the backhoe bucket and into ruts in the course by the back side of the pit. Still trying to make it safer for the racers.  I didn't see many crashes in the women's race prior to Kirk's, but that was all about to change.

You can barely see it, but behind the guy in yellow is the backhoe, and the guy in the light brown jacket is shoveling dirt onto the course

Next I know, Kirk's race is underway. Steve Tilford, the guy who won this age group at Nationals (and a former pro racer) came by riding fast, looking on the edge of control as he plowed across and through the ruts. And even walking in the pit, it was becoming clear that the sun was superficially melting the muddy surface while the ground underneath stayed frozen -- making it very, very slippery on the top of the ruts. Even in my Uggs it was slick. And the racers learned that quickly, too -- I've never seen so many crashes in one race. First lap down that manmade ramp one guy didn't make the right hand turn at the bottom, crashing on the edge of the course, and the guy right behind followed him exactly, crashing as well. From there the racers took a mild left turn past the pit, and the line they all rode was directly up against the right fence. They were so close that handlebars would catch in the fence. If they didn't hold their line, they were tossed back into the middle of the course which took some down. It was crazy.    Immediately racers were pitting with flat tires. Kirk went by, riding strong and holding his own. With each racer wearing their seeding number it was easy to tell who had started where; Kirk had quickly passed quite a number of riders. I even saw some numbers in the 20s that were well behind him. I kept track of him from as far out from the pit as I could see, changing sides and ready for him should he need to come in. Lap 1 ended without a pit stop; lap two started. Riders continued to go down as the surface mud continued to melt. The riders in the second and third places were duking it out, one having to pit, but still eventually catching the other guy, passing him, and holding the advantage. Kirk rode by the pit on lap 2, both sides, and the Lapierre seemed to be riding well.   On his first pass by the pit on lap 3 he indicated that he'd be pitting on the second pass because the bike wasn't shifting. Then he rode out of my sight. . .and promptly rolled his tubular tire when he hit a rut, maneuvered the front of the bike out, but the back tire stayed in it, pulling it completely off the rim and wedging it in the chainstays. By now I knew what racers preceded him on the course (although he continued to pass racers as they ran out of steam), and as I saw them approach the second pit pass, still no Kirk, I knew he had gone down or something.  And lo! there he comes running, Lapierre on his shoulder, spectators cheering him on. Nothing says cyclocross more than a racer running his bike to the pit, and spectators are very appreciative and supportive of that racer.    Having staged myself midway down the pit, I grabbed the Colnago and moved to the very entry of the pit to speed his transition onto the new bike. We had a smooth hand off, and I grabbed the bike to take it to neutral support. They guy told me if I could get it cleaned off he'd put on a loaner wheel. Then I discovered they'd taken the pressure hoses out of the pit, and moved them to the other side of the course. I was going to have to cross the course, wait in line for a hose, get back across, and then turn the bike over to the mechanic. I decided instead to clean with my handy dandy bucket and brushes, and was heading that direction when I nearly ran into Kirk in the pit. Kirk said that the UCI official put his hand up, blew his whistle and directed him to stop at the exit of the pit.  Once Kirk stood down, the official put his hand on Kirk's shoulder and said, "that was very brave, but you've been lapped by the leader".  The other official present complimented the bike change by way of sympathy.  While changing bikes, Kirk had been passed by Tilford, the race leader, and therefore was not allowed to continue. Darn. If he hadn't rolled the tire, he wouldn't have been passed. But what a race, what a run! He figured he'd probably passed 20 or so racers, moving up from his 54th place at the start to the high 20's/low 30s, and was continuing to pass riders as they wore out from the seat of your pants riding that was required in the conditions. Even with running about a mile of the course he still placed 44th in the final results.

It was a great race. He had so much fun, was so in his element, and raced so well. The more technical nature of the course for the Championship race suited him so much better than the mud slog of the qualifying/seeding race. It was great to have him end the season on such a high note, with such a fun race. Between the two, it certainly was epic cyclocross. Next year will be even bigger and wilder, as both the Elite and the Masters World Championships will be in Louisville. It was a nice city to host the event in; we enjoyed it. Need a post-holiday holiday? I recommend Louisville next January. Really. It's going to be a heck of an event. We'll be there!     Sincerely, Kirk, Chandler, and Jonathon Rhinehart Spindoc