Another race, another bruise.

I can now play connect the dots between the bruises on my shins from clipping pedals.

Two days of cyclocross racing at the Portland International Raceway.  Motocross bumps.  Hairpin Turns.  Sticky mud.  Slimy mud.  Wet Mud.  Even, dry mud.  Mud that got on and stuck to just about everything.

I raced the Womens Bs both days, but don't let that fool you.  There was fierce competition.  On day one, we lined up by race number (which turned out to be the completely arbitrary order in which we signed up).  The Beginners were mixed in with the Bs in the start chute, a narrow concrete straight-a-way that gave way to a dirt road and a muddy bottleneck entirely too quickly for my tastes.  When the start whistle blew, I was quickly wedged out of the lead pack because of my triathlete-like sprinting abilities.  Instead I tried to position myself behind a few aggressive riders thinking this was a good way to stay in it.

Bad idea.

One of the aptly named aggressive riders tried to put the other into a fence on the second turn.  I nearly took out two women behind me trying to avoid the frackas.  A string of F-bombs emitting from the downed rider followed me as I maneuvered through the cakey mud on this part of the course.  I couldn't tell if I was racing away or shrinking away, so unsportsman-like was her reaction.  But, I didn't have long to think about it because we hit the motocross bumps in all their roller-coaster glory.  I thought I was going to toss my oats towards the end of them... but then a hard uphill and a few hard cranks through mud so deep and thick it reached my bottom bracket and I was out onto the section of the course that most resembled the path of a giant paperclip.  It was impossible to gain any momentum, and there was an unexpected obstacle.  The Junior Boys were doing there best to take out the women racers.

Oh yeah, this was new.  The race coordinators, in their infinite wisdom decided it would be a good match to put the Women and the Junior Men on the course at the same time.  In sheer riding ability and speed, I can understand the match-up, but the 'tudes were polar opposites.  I had a few boys pass me yelling out "watch out!  Junior Boy here!"  You don't say.  Boys, join me at camera three.

You need to get over you compulsion to pass every woman in front of you.  We are all racing, and you don't hear me passing you yelling out "Womens B" in a tone that suggests that I think you should stop immediately and clear the way so I can pass you.  And it is entirely uncool to pass someone and then slow down.  In such an instance, I will always pass you back.  And next time if I hear you utter the words "what do you think you are doing" I'll shove my cleated shoe, up your a#$.

The circuit was 2.6 miles (longer than any other cyclocross course I have been on), and only 30 minutes was allotted for our race (shorter than usual, but thankfully so).  This left time for only three laps (thank god).  I managed to keep it upright and maneuver my way into fourth place.  But, I was suffering.  It was cold, and my left shifter (or my front derailleur) decided to lock up, on the big chain-ring no less, so that I spent the entire race cranking it like a peppermill in my best imitation of a wattage cottage.

Coming off the motocross section on the first lap... don't let it fool you, this is just after I lost the lead pack thanks to the unfortunate F-bomber.

One more go:  I wanted some sweet revenge for my riding-the-bumper performance from the day before.  I got a front-row spot thanks to my top-ten finish on day one.  My chain could now happily slide from the big to the small chain ring, courtesy of some quick fixing from River City Bicycles and some mothering from Jim.  And gladly to.  Day two featured a number of steeper climbs, a near-vertical run-up, and even deeper mud, courtesy of the warmer-temps.

I jumped off the start-line and quickly settled into a fifth place, but it was pretty obvious that among our group I was the best in the tricky mud... obvious to me because the women immediately in front of me decided to dive off her bike for a closer look.  I bumbled around her, but I had already been gapped by the top three.  We raced around among the-hairpins on lap one, before I caught up to them on that long concrete straightaway.  I tucked in for a little wheel-sucking on this section.  Immediately following, I made a move, working the mud like a magpie.  I emerged onto the second part of the loop in 1st!

I held that position, even putting a sizable gap on second (yesterday's winner) in the muddy section of lap three.  But, it wasn't meant to be, not far from the finish, I got a little excited on a 180° turn.  I lost my rear wheel in a rut, and went down hard (catching a pedal on the shin, of course).  Second passed me on the inside as I struggled to remount.  Without any time, I tried hard to recruit my small amount of fast-twitch muscle to catch her, but it was not to be.  I finished it out in 2nd place... but I managed to get a little wood: