It has been an AWESOME season. Every course I do gets better and more funner (that's right — more!).
Aside: Some day I will have to explain to my high school AP Language teacher why I have added this non-standard comparative form of "more fun" to my lexicon. For now, it is to emphasize the fact that each race course provides more mirth or more enjoyment than regular fun. It's the ultimate fun.
Cyclocross Nationals was no exception. The eventual women's winner, Katie Compton, called it the most technically challenging course she has raced all year. And I agree with her. Though this is the first time I've ever "raced against" her.
Here's how it went: My starting position was 62 out of 100-and-something. That's 62nd on the line. Meaning, in a starting shoot that only accommodated about 7-8 riders across, I was in about row 8. That's a lot of peeps ahead of me, just at the start. But, at least I wasn't 100 and something... for all the good it did me.
A distant horn signaled the start of my race. I'm sure the women on the front clipped in and hammered the first straight away... my start was more like a gentle, building roll out. About 100 yds down the stretch, after crossing the eventual finish line, the course takes a sharp right, hops the curb, jumps up a short rise, takes another sharp right as it descends down a technical, rocky, muddy, icy slope. Can you say, "what!"? As soon as the leaders hit the curb, the whole field of stampeding women slowed, came to a stand-still, and eventual pile-up. I wouldn't have expected anything less. In fact, I planned on it (see following pic) and therefore kept to the outside. What I didn't plan on was the woman-in-front-of-the-woman-in-front-of-the-woman-in-front of me (got that?) crashing into the boards. I had to much momentum going up the hill, bumped the woman's wheel in front of mine as I was back-pedaling, and dropped my chain. Doh. My bad. I bent over double, to rearrange my chain, hoping noone would nip my butt with their handlebars (it was probably to high in the air for this). And as I straightened up and jumped on my rig, I was in dead-last.
The Women's start: No, not crowded at all!
Do-over. The best part about my rookie move? I got to attack the course, have fun, take the best lines, and pick off people one by one...
The course was still monstrously slick from the combo of mud, wet rocks, icy ground, and snow. And with all the hairpin turns, the off-camber climbs and descents, it was a bike handlers dream. I was thanking my stars the whole race that I routinely practice riding muddy singletrack.
So, around and around I went, eventually catching up to women I knew from racing locally, some of the Sunnyside Sports riders, a few River City Bikes team members, my nemesis, among others. The weirdest and coolest part was that each time I took a lap, the course kept changing a bit and the best line would move to different points in turns and straightaways as 100+ riders tore it up. There was one particularly nasty section that came right after a 20-stair climb (which I took two-at-a-time, of course). At the top, I had to mount fast (minds out of the gutter), before barreling down a small off camber, icy slope. Just after the slope, the course angled upward (again off camber) jumped over a lip and swung through a velodrome-style 180-degree turn. Under the wheels was nothing but close-cropped icy, grass, slick as a BICed bald man's head!
This particular spot on the course (nicknamed "cowbell alley" by me as it was the part of the course that competitors lined 3-5 people deep ringing sonorous cowbells) has three (3!) memorable moments of mine from the race.
Memorable Moment #1: The pre-race pre-ride. The course opened for general riding at 9:00, before the collegiate men's race. But, the sun had only come up an hour earlier and had not yet thawed out the frozen course. My plan was to gingerly proceed around the course, testing lines and turns and riding difficult sections twice, generally getting the lay of the land. Then, I would go back and attack these parts at race pace, warming up in the process. As I approached cowbell alley, my wheels gave way and I gently slipped down the slope on my side, almost in slow-motion. Thankfully the course delineation had been removed by race organizers as so many cyclists in previous races had taken just such a spill and gotten tangled in it (the most gruesome one was a guy who had hit one of the wooden posts, getting a ginormous splinter of wood in his shin in the process). I was unhurt, but I got up and rode it again with more speed, successfully climbing over the lip. And then just past the lip, I almost came to a dead stop. For there on the course was a frozen blood puddle, presumably from the raucous "Clydesdale Cyclocross Championship of the Universe" the night before.
Memorable Moment #2 The Save and The Save II. I approached this section with less ginger and more pepper during the race than I did on that first lap in practice. It just seemed easier to ride fast. But, a successful speedy negotiation also involved balance, the right line, no obstacles on the course (ahem, other competitors), and cojones. On the first two laps, I clipped in fast and took the slope at speed. I had a narrow miss with another rider on the second lap, but we both held our lines well. Then lap three, I was starting to feel the course, maneuvering well up the through the field and getting more aggressive with the terrain. I took the steps two at a time, right into a pack of three other women. My remount was really fast in order to stay ahead, but I slightly missed the foot plant on the pedal, and my right foot went in front of the chain ring (in between the frame and the crank arm... ouch!) instead of clipping in. I pedaled through and kept trying to clip-in while pedaling on this section... well, I pushed so hard to clip in on the right foot, that I pushed the bike hard underneath me just as I was coming over the lip on the off-camber stuff. I would have gone down super hard had my weight no been lifting up on the bike at that moment, and I was able to swing the front wheel around to line up with the rear.... that near-miss-great-save got a huge "whoa---yeah!" cheer from the crowd on this corner. And I had to breath through my heart attack. That was The Save I. The Save II was a little less dramatic, but no less heart-attack inducing. Real quick, on the last lap, I almost ran over another racer when she crashed on the corner right in front of me. I hate running over other people. I managed to avoid her and keep myself upright (multi-tasking).
Memorable Moment #3: The money hand-up. For some reason guys love to try to get racers to take their hands off the handle bars at the most treacherous and technically difficult part of the course. It used to be for beer hand-ups. But ever since these were banned in open competition, spectators have taken to holding out dollar bills. I'm no stranger to this spectator-sport. Early in the season at Barton Park Cross Crusade #8, I expertly plucked a Washington that was positioned in the mouth of a beer bottle lemon-wedge-Corona-style without spilling the beer or face-planting in the mud (see pic).
The course was still monstrously slick from the combo of mud, wet rocks, icy ground, and snow. And with all the hairpin turns, the off-camber climbs and descents, it was a bike handlers dream. I was thanking my stars the whole race that I routinely practice riding muddy singletrack.
So, around and around I went, eventually catching up to women I knew from racing locally, some of the Sunnyside Sports riders, a few River City Bikes team members, my nemesis, among others. The weirdest and coolest part was that each time I took a lap, the course kept changing a bit and the best line would move to different points in turns and straightaways as 100+ riders tore it up. There was one particularly nasty section that came right after a 20-stair climb (which I took two-at-a-time, of course). At the top, I had to mount fast (minds out of the gutter), before barreling down a small off camber, icy slope. Just after the slope, the course angled upward (again off camber) jumped over a lip and swung through a velodrome-style 180-degree turn. Under the wheels was nothing but close-cropped icy, grass, slick as a BICed bald man's head!
This particular spot on the course (nicknamed "cowbell alley" by me as it was the part of the course that competitors lined 3-5 people deep ringing sonorous cowbells) has three (3!) memorable moments of mine from the race.
Memorable Moment #1: The pre-race pre-ride. The course opened for general riding at 9:00, before the collegiate men's race. But, the sun had only come up an hour earlier and had not yet thawed out the frozen course. My plan was to gingerly proceed around the course, testing lines and turns and riding difficult sections twice, generally getting the lay of the land. Then, I would go back and attack these parts at race pace, warming up in the process. As I approached cowbell alley, my wheels gave way and I gently slipped down the slope on my side, almost in slow-motion. Thankfully the course delineation had been removed by race organizers as so many cyclists in previous races had taken just such a spill and gotten tangled in it (the most gruesome one was a guy who had hit one of the wooden posts, getting a ginormous splinter of wood in his shin in the process). I was unhurt, but I got up and rode it again with more speed, successfully climbing over the lip. And then just past the lip, I almost came to a dead stop. For there on the course was a frozen blood puddle, presumably from the raucous "Clydesdale Cyclocross Championship of the Universe" the night before.
Memorable Moment #2 The Save and The Save II. I approached this section with less ginger and more pepper during the race than I did on that first lap in practice. It just seemed easier to ride fast. But, a successful speedy negotiation also involved balance, the right line, no obstacles on the course (ahem, other competitors), and cojones. On the first two laps, I clipped in fast and took the slope at speed. I had a narrow miss with another rider on the second lap, but we both held our lines well. Then lap three, I was starting to feel the course, maneuvering well up the through the field and getting more aggressive with the terrain. I took the steps two at a time, right into a pack of three other women. My remount was really fast in order to stay ahead, but I slightly missed the foot plant on the pedal, and my right foot went in front of the chain ring (in between the frame and the crank arm... ouch!) instead of clipping in. I pedaled through and kept trying to clip-in while pedaling on this section... well, I pushed so hard to clip in on the right foot, that I pushed the bike hard underneath me just as I was coming over the lip on the off-camber stuff. I would have gone down super hard had my weight no been lifting up on the bike at that moment, and I was able to swing the front wheel around to line up with the rear.... that near-miss-great-save got a huge "whoa---yeah!" cheer from the crowd on this corner. And I had to breath through my heart attack. That was The Save I. The Save II was a little less dramatic, but no less heart-attack inducing. Real quick, on the last lap, I almost ran over another racer when she crashed on the corner right in front of me. I hate running over other people. I managed to avoid her and keep myself upright (multi-tasking).
Memorable Moment #3: The money hand-up. For some reason guys love to try to get racers to take their hands off the handle bars at the most treacherous and technically difficult part of the course. It used to be for beer hand-ups. But ever since these were banned in open competition, spectators have taken to holding out dollar bills. I'm no stranger to this spectator-sport. Early in the season at Barton Park Cross Crusade #8, I expertly plucked a Washington that was positioned in the mouth of a beer bottle lemon-wedge-Corona-style without spilling the beer or face-planting in the mud (see pic).
$1-smile at Barton Park Cross.
But, I was still a bit surprised to see fists-o-cash being thrust out on the Nationals course. I had no intention of trying for the money on this section... until I saw Fuzz-guy (enthusiastic spectator and oft- times racer who wears a sniper suit in costumed races) holding up a twenty.... even I - safe Suzy - would crash for a $20. I reached out, bobbled, grappled for the bill, got it, shoved it down my decolletage, and managed to stay upright through this entire exchange. It only takes a little monetary motivation... I'ld be an easy pole dancer.
Heading into the velodrome turn after coming over the lip.
In the end, I achieved my two modest goals for the race, finish in the top half (I was 48th) and not get lapped. I had an inkling how close I was to get lapped, as I could here the cheers for Compton as I neared the second to last of my promised laps. The chip-timing tells the story; my fourth lap was by far my fastest as I raced to outrace the leader on her last lap. Turns out I had a minute+ cushion, but you can never tell on the twists and turns of a cyclocross course.
So, major props to friends and fans that yelled themselves hoarse, worked their wrist muscles to fatigue with the cowbell, and stood around (drinking beer) for three days in the cold to cheer on all the Pacific Power Blue Sky riders. I had three teammates travel to Bend with me even though they weren't racing. And I had four teammates who raced and placed well in their respective categories.
Also, props to Mathowie for the race pictures. I couldn't help including some pictures he took of the "super" fans:
Glad you liked the photos! I can never tell if riders in the race will ever know my photos of them exist, so I'm always happy when people find them.
ReplyDeleteSunny girl! It looks like you had a bad-ass cross season! Good on ya! We miss you here in B-Town!
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