Baby's First 'Cross Race

The short:  Crossroads Clash:  2nd CX4, 4th in the "B" Race, dignified DNF in the "A" race

Race season is dead--long love race season!  Just like the French medieval royal succession, race season has a special way of perpetuating itself, resurrecting itself in the very act of dying.  Maybe it's a testament to cyclists' constant need to prove themselves, maybe it's something more fun. 

I heart staging.  It's always the best part of the race.  Awesome pics pilfered
from 901's facebook page.

This time around, it definitely feels like the fun version--it's cyclocross season in the mid-south, the cold-brewed antidote to roadie self-importance and FTP-induced ennui.  As far as I'm concerned, and I remain an unreconstructed roadie, this is cycling at its best.  Bikes on grass, cowbells, barriers, long socks, unnecessary skinsuits, most of us proudly reduced to miniscule cranksets, aluminum frames and SPD pedals. 

It's a resurrection of another sort, too--of our better younger selves, riding knobby tires back to our ten-year-old cycling origins, swerving in feral packs through the neighborhood, jumping curbs, power-braking, wiping out, cranking until our legs and lungs burn, and doing it all again.  Vive le sport.

I still heart staging. 

On another of the mid-south's long string of remarkable, cloudless fall days, I headed up to 901 Racing's Crossroads Clash for my first 'cross race.  At ten pm the night before, I had swapped the pedals off my mountain bike (still decorated with year-old Wolf River Trail mud, I shamefacedly admit), did a few running dismounts in the grassy corner lot (screw remounts!  No time!) and packed up my race back once again.

On the day of, I managed to caffeinate on the way up, squeeze into the B race (women and children first?!?).  The course, rigged up at Memphis's own Shelby Farms, started 600m short of the start/finish, following a brilliant, fun, winding uphill grass sequence to the final barrier, then into a short singletrack section, emerging onto a grass section with a triple barrier, and after a 1.5-minute TT on the grass, dove into some more singletrack.  After an uphill barrier, the course circled back through the windy uphill section to the final barrier.  

Start/finish barrier, non-instagrammed

Giddyup!

After a quick neutral lap, we were off. It was everything I thought it would be, and more.  The phrase "dirt crit" crossed my mind as the pack went into the trees for the second time.  The pace was high--I was hitting my redline repeatedly.  This is good for me, I thought.

I was near enough to the front, and coming out of the singletrack, I goofed going over the logs, slowing up the riders behind me.  I'll have to work on that.  On the grass again, I managed to surge past two or three riders, and a quick check confirmed I was near the front--there was one single-speed racer, one woman, and one other CX 4 in front of me.  I was consistently slow through the second singletrack section--or other people were consistently able to catch up, perhaps--but I managed to hold my own and open up gaps on the grass, most laps.

Start-finish barrier.

By the second or third time through, I was hitting the triple barrier on the back side of the course smoothly--in stride, kicking the back wheel of the bike up, and holding my speed.  It took a while, figuring out which foot wanted to come out of the pedal first, which side I had to come off, which foot to begin running on.  A few times, especially the uphill barriers, I got caught with my right foot down, unclipping my left, and still trying to get off the left side of the bike...try it.  It's a no-go.  Once, in the heat of otherwise racey efforts, I had to grab the brakes as I nosed the front wheel into the barrier.  That can't be right.  For a whole lap, my fancy mtb shoes with the cable lock came undone (luckily, not broken), but the right wrist has regained enough flexibility to handle such mid-race on-bike fine motor skills.  Luckily, I got it all mostly figured out, or at least well enough to not lose position as the race proceeded. 

About a third of the course was (mostly) easy singletrack

I found myself in second in my race with a few laps to go, and after some strategic recovery riding on the final lap, managed to hold off another rider for 2nd in the class, 4th rider in the B race.  Like a big boy.

I surged up the final twisting grass sequence, holding position, and thankfully didn't have to spring full-bore at the final barrier.  I don't know if I could have figured out my unclipping and running in a full-on sprint. 

I think I might need a slightly longer stem.

After a quick recovery, I was slated to get into the A race.  My legs were still pretty blasted, and I was lobbying to skip the neutral lap, but--unbeknownst to me--that meant the whole thing was go from the gun.  Crap!  I found myself all the way at the back of the back.  Had we started this fast in the B race?!?  Probably.  Are my legs that cracked?  Indeed.  Some dude went down, disappearing in a cloud of dust, at the bottom of the first hill, and I slid out on my left side.  That was disheartening, although no bad effects beside some grass in my lever.  I just didn't have any legs, though, couldn't catch up, and just felt unsteady the whole time, so at the next-to-last barrier on the first lap, I just nosed off the course and went to collect my half cup of beer and $50 before adding in a few minutes of riding in the park. 

Great job, Matt West and crew!  It was a good day.  If I'd listened to the right people, I might have known--every day at the cross races is a good day.  Vive le 'cross!

The log barriers coming out of the woods.