A day late, but not short. Race Report: USAC Women's Elite Cyclocross National Championships

Something a little different, reporting the thank yous and vital statistics before the shenanigans. First, BFF Doug and Pedal Hard Coach and friend Isaiah, you know ;).  Mike Weiss (for saying it bluntly) and Big Shark Bicycle for unwavering support, teammates on Michelob Ultra/ Big Shark who probably get tired of hearing about me winning (I didn't today, ha!) Kent for the homestay in Austin; hope I get the chance to reciprocate. Everyone who tagged me on FB, watched the race on BTBtv, texted and called after the race. Y'all make a girl feel loved! For the record, I finished 10th, after not being sure that I would be able to logistically when it was postponed by a day.

Second row, far right, just behind Rachel Lloyd, cattycorner to KFC and grinning like an idiot. That was my mindset just prior to the start of the day-late Women's Elite race at the USAC Cyclocross National Championships.

With two minutes to go, I handed my jacket and pants to Isaiah, checked for the 9th time that my left pedal was upright and my chain was in the right gear. Then I starred beyond the butt in front of me and listened for the whistle.

I had the cleanest clip-in and fastest jump of the season off the start line. Almost immediately, the lane was clear in front of me as the nose of the field swung left. I geared up out of the saddle like I had practiced in the fields of Castlewood Park, as a respectable number of die-hard fans beat the boards along the straightway.

And then about 30 meters before the start of the uphill, I ran out of actual gears (!), the risk of running a 1x.

Aside: Doug and I switched my bikes to a single chain ring in front mid-way through the 2013-14 season. Issues with chain drop and the realization that I rarely get in my big ring led us down this path, and it suited my riding style. We had already begun discussing changes to this set-up before today, but decided not to "change horses in the middle of the race"... Ironically, the whole point of the pit in CX, to change "horses".

Back to the race: I was eclipsed by the field quickly, and nearly elbowed into the barriers. Now back in the pack, I rode through chunky mud blind except for the sounds of gear changes to signify upcoming hazards. I rode this way through the early switchbacks and gracelessly passed the first pit (as planned). There wasn't much room to pass, and not a lot of stopping power in the mucky turns. I nearly took myself out crossing wheels with riders in front of me. Isaiah would later say that I looked nervous in that first pit pass.

The first of many unrideable off-camber sections lay ahead. The dismount was tricky. Dismount on the unpracticed right and use the fencing to leverage, or dismount on the left and risk sliding side-ways into the downside fencing? Didn't matter. Forced to dismount earlier than planned because of the traffic in front of me. As I reached to grab the bike (it had to be carried or risk clogging the brakes and fork with mud), I was jostled from behind. The bike slipped from my gloved hand, and something unseen hit me right in the nose. I recovered my bike just as I started to see stars, but managed to run straight ahead despite my pain-blurred vision (my nose still hurts a day later).

Somehow, I made it to the base of the first limestone stairs. Advantage Sunny-long legs. I bounded up them, past two other women and close on the heels of a third. The course made a 180 after an off-camber remount section, and proceeded down a treacherously straight and steep descent. At the bottom, we were greeted by a second unrideable off-camber bit on the lower portion of the course (all of these were beautifully rideable in practice on Friday!) During my one-lap pre-ride (we were given only 20'), I slowed myself on the descent by jamming the knuckles of my right hand into the fence (on accident, of course). Wouldn't you know it? I did the exact damn thing in the race...I should have practiced it a second time. I resolved to take the line on the left side of the descent for the rest of the race.

Nothing broken (it is a lovely shade of purple right now).  I practiced a fist and then grabbed the fence post through the frame of my bike after I smoothly dismounted and shouldered it. This time I dug my spiked shoes into the mud and sprinted past a Luna rider whose handlebars had sadly become tangled in the fencing. Two or three riders alongside me attempted to remount their bikes through the next section, but I kept mine shouldered and high-stepped past them and around the next corner.
After a quick descent in which I remounted but remained unclipped, I hopped off the bike once more for the run up to the second and trickier set of limestone steps. I tripped on one and nearly face-planted. I recovered this time with a little more grace, but was thinking" "Jeez, I need to settle down".

We had a series of boggy, but not unrideable, long, swooping turns ahead before arriving at the pit a second time. I used my practiced lines and loose caboose to pass two more ladies. I took in big gulps of air and used a power-pedal stroke to ride over the choppy mud into the pit. Isaiah and Doug were waiting two-thirds of the way down, and I simply said "clean, please".

Past the pit, the mud was so think that we had debated the merits of running the whole thing in order to have a clean bike for the twisty concrete section to follow. I had decided to make it a clutch decision, hoping that by the time our race hit the course, the juniors would have packed down a line. They did not disappoint. I rode that stretch and hit the pavement a tad wobbly on the slickened surface, but with lots of clearance between the brakes and the wheel.

Lots left to do on the first lap, and lots of work to do yet in the race. We were onto the approach of what would have been the most fun part of the course in dry conditions, but arborists and rain, in addition to causing an unprecedented and unforeseen 24-hour delay of the race, had fundamentally changed the course. Now, a banked turn along a short wall-like hill ended with a hasty dismount, a side-step leap down, two-step run-up, right-turn remount, and an unclipped downhill before another four-step run-up that would have needed a ladder if it were any steeper. Spectators lined the top of the wall.  A number of them heckled me when my foot slipped in my attempt to remount at the end, and I "Supermanned" my saddle (ouch).

I was still amongst a tight group of women, and we careened down another steep, hold-your-breath-and-hope-your-cantilever-brakes-grab-your-mud-choked-rims-at-the-bottom kind of hill. Mine did, and I swung a leg over at the bottom.  Shouldering my bike over two legit (and somewhat aggressively high) barriers before another long run-up, I gave it my all I was worth to catch the woman in front of me so that I would have someone to draft off of on the long start-finish straightaway. The wind was picking up, and I was slightly concerned still about being under geared on this stretch.

I needn't have worried. Our group was already showing signs of fatigue just one lap in. I made the pass at the bottom of the hill and caught the wheel of the lead rider in our loose four-woman group. I spied the orange and blue AmyD kit of Ericka ahead and worked to bridge the gap before the next time we passed the pit.

I didn't quite make it, but I was able to grab her wheel in the subsequent turn, and it wasn't long before I took a chance to pass. Though they should have had the same pressure, I felt the rear tire on this bike might be squishier than my other bike.  And I could feel my tires grabbing the turns on this bike better. I briefly though about asking Doug to let a little air out of the tires of my A bike once I got to the pit. I decided against it because of the hidden bedrock and sharp curbs we were bouncing over on the course.

Can you tell I had settled down? I focused on taking the turns faster, hitting the run-ups more aggressively, having a little more fun out there. I felt a smile creep onto my face. I asked Isaiah and Doug to "Please, clean" my bike once again, and they excitedly handed up my bike for the second time.

When I came through the start-finish, I realized two things. One, that the race was half-over with two laps to go. And, two, that I was in 12th place, with 10th place in sight (I'm far-sighted)! I can't describe the feeling that came over me except to say that my legs felt somewhat renewed, my shoulders relaxed, and my bike impossibly surged forward.

I don't remember much of that third lap except that I passed by Elle Andersn into 11th place (I've really enjoyed her rider diary and feel somewhat inspired to go race in Europe over Christmas next year), and pulled in plain sight of the recognizable kit and powerful pedal stroke of Courtenay McFadden.

I now had two somewhat contradictory goals, ride as fast as possible on this silly, sloppy course, and stay upright. I bent my elbows just a bit more, scooted my butt a little farther back on the saddle, and let her go. The course was becoming just barely, perceptibly tackier, and I was able to get a tiny bit more aggressive on the corners and power-stroke the straights.

I'm not quite sure when I moved into 10th, but I do know I never let up on that last lap. I was heckled for my helmet color choice (neon orange), commended for my stair-stepping, and redeemed in the eyes of the spectators on the wall, cleanly remounting with the moves of Superwoman this time.
I took that final hill no brakes until the bottom (very tacky mud here), a gamble as I maneuvered into a track-standesque side-slide, coming within a foot or two of the fencing at the bottom. I ran over the last two barriers like I was being chased (I was). One last run-up, one last remount, one last tricky corner, and I was on smooth payment, grinning from ear-to-ear.

Cyclocross-us Interuptus

Sunday. Race Day. The email communication from USA cycling indicating that parking for Sunday's championship race was going to be a challenge was our first indication of the storm brewing.

Three days of rain and cold had made the polo grounds unsuitable, and we were encouraged to find parking farther "afield". Perhaps this was the last straw for the locals. Soon the twitter sphere was alight with onsite accounts of police blocking access to the course, announcements from the Austin Parks and Rec stating the cancellation of the last day's races, and finally a statement from USAC that they were doing everything in their power to try and reach a compromise with locals and local officials to simply postpone the races until the next day.

I hopped on the trainer next to Isaiah. Doug started packing. I started pedaling faster.

The Austin Heritage Tree Foundation had launched an attack that they appeared to have been planning for some time. They were upset that "the cycle cross race participants like to ride their bikes in mud, that is part of the thrills" (nice misuse of punctuation there; by the way). The best account of the social media onslaught from both sides of the fence was retweeted by a friend and linked to here.

Basically, the masterminds behind the Nationals course worked their magic, relocating a few sections of the course away from the base of the trees, grounds keepers brought in mulch for the worst puddles, and, unbelievably, a few of the off-camber sections got more technical! The Parks department and USAC announced that the races would be postponed with a condensed schedule. My race was slated for 3:20 PM Monday afternoon... with 14 hours of driving, this seemed too late to allow us adequate time to get Isaiah and Doug back on time for work on Tuesday. I couldn't ask them. If we drove all night, we would be toasted. We would be toasted. We would be staying! This is the National Championships. 

I owe them home-made granola, and possibly vegetarian rice cake portables made with fakin' bacon.

Wrap me in bubble wrap and pillows

During a leisurely turn of the course at this year's cyclocross nationals in Austin, TX, I casually threw an elbow into one of the many unprotected metal barrier corners lining the course. I tripped up the stairs carrying hot coffee, scalding my hand and twisting my ankle in the process (but I did not spill a single drop on my host's stairs!). And I am successfully avoiding falling asleep until well after midnight.

All this in the final few days leading up to one of the biggest races of my athletic career. Shockingly, this is par for the course. I have competed in countless national championship events (three different sports), won four of them, and before almost every one have managed a bit of adversity getting to the starting line.

Aside: The best one was when I decided I needed a little tan, four days before the event, to reduce my obvious shorts and sports bra lines. Having never used a tanning bed before or since, I had to practice in the days leading up to the event without wearing a sports bar, so badly sunburned was my chest. Training tan lines and winter pale limbs are beautiful!

Back to this years Cyclocross Nationals. I am now sitting and drinking my coffee. The scald has faded. My ankle is happily twitching with pre-race restless leg syndrome. And the barrier only left a small bruise and a barely perceptible dull ache in my arm. The perfect amount of adversity to remind me that this is fun, and tomorrow's race is going to be a mud-tastic adventure for the ages.

Race Report: Jingle Cross Sunday

I spun the pedals on Travis's bike, ensconced - wedged, really - into the narrow doorway between the sleeping area and hangout area of his RV, shoulder-to-laminate with the bathroom door on one side and the refrigerator door on the other. I was doing my best to warm-up, mentally sending blood to my chilled toes and fingers in preparation for my last planned Women's Elite UCI race before Nationals in January.

Outside the RV, the 1-3 inches of snow on the course was turning to brown ice under the tires of hundreds of cyclocross racers, as the temperature steadily dropped. By the time I finished warming up, emerging fully ready to race in whatever conditions, it would be 23 °F and overcast.

I rubbed embrocation into my feet and leg fronts. I taped duct tape over the breathable mesh of my shoes. I was wearing thick wool socks and fleece-lined leg warmers with industrial-strength silicone grips to hold them in place. Under the taught zipper of my speed suit, I had one thermal wicking layer beneath a lightweight but water and wind-proof jacket. Around my neck and under my helmet, I had on a wool neck gaiter and wool stocking cap. Two pairs of gloves (one a glove-liner, the other a wind-barrier glove). Vaseline was smothered on my face to prevent windburn.

I approached the starting line, ready to take on anything this shape-shifting course had to offer. I had pre-ridden the lap only once after watching Doug negotiate it during the single speed race, and noted with pleasure that I was going to get to ride through the Grinch's Lair - a sand-filled barn with a rather tight concrete doorway for an exit (in previous year's the UCI race had been detoured away from this feature).

I was on the second-row, center with a perfect position behind one of the fastest starters on the UCI circuit and an already two-time podium finisher this week-end, Courtenay McFadden. With my position, I managed to unobtrusively photobomb a couple of the first-row pro's hamming-it-up pictures with the Grinch. When the whistle blew, I jumped off the line with everyone else, but my left-foot slid past my pedal, scraping my ankle in the process, and I was immediately plunged into the middle of the pack.

Before the first turn past the starting line, I managed to edge my way back into the top half. But with too many ladies in front of me to count, a series of logs to jump, and a right-turn remount in a crowd to negotiate, I lost track of my position in the race.

I did a decent job of dismounting and running up the fly-over - two-steps at a time(!) - alongside Laurel Rathbun. whose long-legs matched my stride. We approached a tricky turn where just a few races before ours, I had watched eight separate people in a field of about forty slide out and do damage to their equipment. I took the turn on the righthand tape and swung across the mid-line of the race track onto the rougher terrain on the opposite left side of the line. It worked spectacularly and I had enough momentum to propel me past two other riders on the approach to the first big climb up the backside of Mt. Krumpit.

The mud had not yet frozen on the slope that so many had been forced to run in previous races. My tire treads searched for purchase as I weighted every low PSI nubbin into the earth (I was running something around 16-17 PSI in my PDX), churning up the hill on the wheel of Ericka Zaveta. After a couple of switchbacks at the top, I put on a tiny surge to slip pass Amanda Naumann before the descent to Hopson's Holly-Jolly Hell-Hole.

I emerged from the Hell-hole unscathed, on the wheel of Laurel Rathbun. Her tires kicked up frozen mud-pellets that pummeled me like marbles. A group of four or five riders had come together as a group, trading positions through the switchbacks, pit, barriers, and Christmas Barn with it's unnervingly scene-clashing soft rock Christmas music. Later in the race, I would hear White Christmas and feel my heart rate and wheels unconsciously slowing to the music.

I slipped into fourth position in the pack with a bobble out the Grinch's Lair. It worked to my favor, however, when I was able to race up a difficult kicker hill on to a slippery off-cambor section taking the high-line, as two other riders ahead of me in the group were forced to put a foot down to get up the last lip of the hill. I threw out my left leg for balanced and tried to ease the bike onto the more stable-low line, but Laurel added a nice surge to pass and bump me back up the hill and onto a less stable line on the approach to a steep downhill. I entered a series of S-turns, the last tricky corners before the finishing straight on the first lap, third in the group, but with the leaders in sight just about ten seconds ahead of us.

My bike was beginning to get weighted down with ice-mud, but I didn't want to pit and risk loosing position. I could feel the weight as I carried it over the fly-over. At the base of the hill, we all battled for a good line to accelerate onto the slippery mud. I moved to the far right along the tape for the ascent and could have reached out and hugged a group of fellow Missouri cyclocrossers cheering me on. Heartened, I laid into that hill like it was the last lap and surged ahead of the other riders. Laurel and I called out mutual encouragement as I passed her half-way up.

I knew I was in the top ten, but my frozen addled brain couldn't think much beyond the next few turns. Securely in position, I raced into the pit to hand off my weighted-down bike to Doug and Travis's capable hands (photo credit: cycling news.com). Doug yelled out that I was in fifth as I fixed him with a shocked expression!  Third and fourth were in sight!

I got a little excited then, too excited for the slippery hard-right turn into the barriers, and I sheepishly heard the announcer call out my name as I bumbled my way over them. Doug and I had talked before the race about finding my inner-Cross-Crusade-Oregon-mud-zen-mental-skills capable of floating the back wheel effortlessly around every corner. I found it in the sultry strains of Bing Crosby in the Christmas Barn. And by the end of lap two, I was beginning to bridge the gap to Meredith Miller and Maghalie Rochette.

The hard work was just beginning. The course was changing, getting faster, as the mud on the top most later of the track began to freeze, and it was like riding in slow-churned chocolate ice cream. Sticky. I started to push the speed around the corners. Each one, I would put on just a little more gas, take a little more aggressive, go into a little faster, all in attempt to gain one second here and there in my pursuit of fourth place.

Midway through the third lap, I started to visibly gain ground on Maghalie. I took the logs and fly-over super-smooth, but when it came to remounting onto the bike, I realized my clips were starting to freeze up making it a bit of a challenge to get clipped in. I rode the next few corners with my right foot beating the shoe against the pedal every other stroke. Finally, at the base of the climb, I felt it grab, and I jammed out of the saddle, pumping my legs faster than I thought possible midway through the race. I caught Maghalie's wheel and we rode single-file down the tricky backside of the course.

Once over the bridge, I surged up a small hill, took a tight line around the corner and passed the Luna Chix rider in the rough of the following straightaway. It happened just before the pits, and I could hear Travis and Doug cheering me on as I swung by in pursuit of third.

For just a moment, I thought to myself, "Fourth is really good". But with two laps to go, my legs were not screaming at me, and my lungs - while icy - were not yet at their full capacity. And as I crossed the start finish line with two laps to go, I dug really deep and pulled within striking distance of Meredith.

My face was a mask. Frozen as it was, I probably couldn't have made a pain face anyway. I concentrated on riding each feature clean and ever faster, holding onto that Zen to scoot my rear wheel around corners and power onto the next straightaways. Riding up the hill, I was conscious of the fact that at some point I passed Meredith. I hugged the tape on the way up, and Ricky Bass, a fellow CXer from St. Louis, reached out a hand and gave me an encouraging tap on the back. It was electric! I emerged from the woods, sprinted past the pit, the Noosa rider hot in pursuit, and didn't dare look over at Doug and Travis.

I rode the rest of that second to last lap nearly perfectly, including the slippery off-cambor section that -in my mind - I have started calling Max's Run (after the pooch in the Grinch).

Aside - this particular section was so treacherous that for a few races in the morning, I think the race directors detoured racers around it.

Photo Credit - Todd Fawcett

I could not let up on the pace. I could see a hard-charging Carolin Mani behind Meredith making up time. But, I also didn't want to focus my attention behind me. I listened to the announcers for news from the front line. And then, astonished, and a little concerned, I heard them announce that Katarina Nash, an already two-time champion this weekend, was running her bike up the hill! I tried not to guess what that meant, but I knew the two riders were not that far in front of me.

Frozen cleats, that was her struggle, not damage to her bike, and she was able to jump back on and stay in contention to the end. With a half-lap to go, it became clear that I wasn't going to catch the two leaders, and I threw a sly smile at Doug as I passed him in the pit for the last time. Not believing it possible, I actually started to ride even faster (the lap results would show that my last lap was a good 13-seconds faster than any of my previous laps!) and the gap to fourth seemed to grow. I gave it all I had over the finish line, the goofiest grin literally frozen on my face.

I did not prepare for the possibility of a podium finish. My sixth place finish the day before was impressive all by itself. Doug sprinted on my Giant TCX bike back to the RV to fetch my Big Shark jacket and stocking cap, and I proudly ascended the podium next to Katarina, Courtenay, two very cold podium girls, and The Grinch.

Race Report: Trek CXC Day One

119, 120, 122,.... 129. As the race official gave us the "two-minute warning, ladies", my downward gaze caught the heart rate read-out on my computer. Standing perfectly still, seconds away from my first elite women's start of the 2014 season, my body new what was up.

I was seated in the tenth position, not quite the first row, but likely my highest call-up in a Category 1 race. I didn't want to waste the opportunity, but my body and my pedals had a different plan. As the gun went off, I was slightly slow on the jump, and I struggled to clip-in to my left pedal for the entire straight-away, finally finding it just before the grass line demarking the start of the real fun. At which point I was almost dead last.

Within seconds I was able to power through the middle of a clump of ladies, speed past others in the next straightaway, and make it into the first couple of turns mid-pack. I came in hot to the next technical turn, and a traffic jam caused by the upcoming series of off-cambor switch-backs. The tread on my front tire bit into the dry, clumping grass, and I somersaulted over the handle-bars, jamming up those behind. I scrambled back to my bike, once again nearly off the back of the pack. Not the dream start I had been hoping for.

Immediately after this section, there was a particularly gnarly off-cambor, downhill, S-curve on the side of a steep incline followed almost immediately by a "run-up" back up the same hill. Several attempts at riding the downhill in practice left me in the dirt, and so I had resolved to use those running legs of mine to sprint through this entire section. That strategy played to my favor on this lap, as I was able to pass on the inside of riders slowly maneuvering there way down. Then just before the run-up, a woman in front of me went sprawling, taking out the riders in front and beside her and blocking on-coming traffic. In the words of my friend Heidi spectating from the side-lines, I was able to leap "gazelle-like over the crash" and spring up the run-up. Later in the race, I would be heckled fro this strategy, "it's faster if you pedal." To which I called out, "I'll race you!" That got a few hoots and hollers form the sidelines.

The rest of that next lap was a blur, my blood-pumping hard in my eyeballs, as I powered through every straightaway, seeing the front of the race already gapped way ahead. By the time I came around the pits, I was back into 16th, but with a lot of work to do.

The race was so strung out at this point. For the next three laps, I caught and passed one-rider at a time. But I also was struggling with the hot, dry, bumpy conditions. My lips were stuck to my gums, and sweat poured down my back. And I couldn't seem to to keep my bike upright in the turns. Three more times I would go down.  Including one that sealed my position in the race.

With two laps, to go, I could see a pack of three women ahead of me. I thought with enough effort I could bridge to them in time for the last lap. The series of off-cambor switchbacks that had been my favorite part of the course in practice, but trouble in the opening lap, proved again to be my nemesis. I took a corner just a tad too tight, too aggressive. Not being able to throw the back wheel around the corner to carry my high-center of gravity momentum in a whip like I'm used to, the wheels cut and slid, and I went down hard. I bounced back up, but I had bent the derailleur on the part of the course farthest from the pit, and shifting became a bit of a problem. Besides that, ten seconds had gone by, and now the pack of three was out of reach.

I used the final lap and a half to smoothly transition around corners, over barriers, and keep myself well ahead of the next woman to finally finish in 11th. I maybe could have done better, but I bet if I check my results from last year, that finish might be one of my highest placings in a Category 1 race. I'll take it.

For an account of the race from the front of the pack (someday.....) Check out CXmagazine, and of course race pics and pictures will be posted soon at the race site.

Goodread: Why is Orange the New Black?

"You need toothpaste?" Listening to Piper Kerman tell her story at the Maryville Talks Books last night, I couldn't help but wonder what my reaction would be to this question if, on the first day of a prison sentence, someone approached and asked it of me. I would probably wonder if I had heard them right. Wonder if it was a loaded or leading question meant to distract the naive newbie before emotional or bodily harm was inflicted, rather than the first of many gentle offers of friendship and concern that, according to Piper, perpetuate the prisoner community. After a minute, I stopped wondering, and I just listened. To one woman's successful attempt to make the sweetest of all lemonades from a truckload of lemons and how she has been campaigning ever since that truckload arrived to help other women in the prison system do the same.

I wasn't actually going to go to the lecture and book signing. I have a platform, too, just like Ms. Kerman. She didn't just talk about the book and the show. Instead, she passionately lectured about the role that race, gender, socioeconomic status play in sentencing, likelihood of ending up in prison, the length of the sentence, and whether a person would serve multiple prison terms, specifically as it applied to women. I frequently speak about people's access to affordable, high-quality food regardless of race, gender, and socioeconomic status. But, in watching the Netflix show, Orange is the New Black, which is loosely based on Ms. Kerman's book by the same name, I witness many instances of anti-GMO slander, and in one utterly blatant exchange between two characters - mind you, two women who are in prison for committing crimes - in which one says to the other, "I wouldn't want to work for one of those evil companies like Monsanto...." at which point I turned off the TV.

At some point, months later, I turned the TV back on and finished watching the season. And it took an invitation from a friend, and my own predilection for researching things before I decided that it would be well worth my time to attend. And it was. But, I couldn't leave the long book-signing line without saying just a few things - an elevator speech, if you will.

When it was my turn (and my friend's) turn to approach Piper at the table and get our picture taken with her. I started by saying "That was a wonderful lecture. I am glad I came, but... I almost didn't."

"Oh?"

"Well, I looked you up on the internet and read about your platform."

"I guess you can believe some of the things you read on the internet."

"Yes, but, before I did that, all I knew about you and your book was the show, and you see, I work really hard as a scientist for Monsanto Company, to ensure that those same people you fight for also have access to affordable, high-quality food."

"Yes, the show isn't very nice about your company."

"Maybe you could ask the producer to take it easy on us."

"Hmmm....."

And that was it. Actually, then she took a picture with us (all smiling!) in which I look like the Jolly Green Giant next to a seated Ms. Kerman and my standing friend, who is all of 5'4" (just imagine it). And I have a new book to read. I'm pretty sure I know how this one ends.

Sentimental Sunday - Race Report from Day 1 of Cincy3 2014

New friends, great home stay, mud, mud, mud, and my first Top-10 finish of the season.

It started poorly. My travel buddy/ pit crew/ mental support got a new "real job" and told me he was unable to go with me to the race two days before we were meant to leave. He came through big time in another way! while I was planning contingencies and sending emails to the race director about potential home stays, he was getting his bike race-ready for me to have in the pit and calling the race director to find me a home stay and a pit crew.  The director put him in touch with the same family that had hosted numerous pro men's teams (!) and would now be hosting and pitting for little me... And, as it turns out, one of my closest competitors and aforementioned-in-this-blog women's cycling heroes, Beth Ann Orton (who also happens to have a new blog home for the new cyclocross season).

Part 1, my first race on Friday Cincy3 @ Devou. The course looked hilly and technical. Muddy from earlier rains and racers. Lots of off-camber up and downhill turns, twisty sections, barriers that came right after a hard right turn (try dismounting on the left side while leaning to the far right).  Oh, and lest we forget the gravel and concrete walkway crossing the course that had developed something of a rim-denting ditch on the approach. That thing was damn near unavoidable.

The start was meant to be challenging. An uphill concrete section that immediately narrowed into the trees and a descending angle downhill turn with some sort of acorn or gumball under-tread.  I made it fine through it, but then I tried to cut to far to the left on the slippery S-curve uphill and found myself tangled in the tape. I could feel a few of the ladies mentally cursing me, but then I watched another racer do the same thing in the middle of the course ahead of me. See, not so easy, I told myself!

The rest of the race went much the same way. I jumped off and ran the slipperiest of the uphills, losing a little in the mount at the top, but gaining from already being in a hard gear for the inevitable downhill that came immediately after.  On one of the sharper turns, I threw a long leg out on every go around and managed to save enough speed to gain two-three bike lengths on my nearest competitor on each lap. I was in 12th-13th and then without me passing anyone, a friend in the pit yelled that I was in 10th! I didn't know if he was right or not, but I'ld be damned if I was going to let anyone pass me if it was true.

With one woman close behind, I entered the final lap. Knowing she was a better sprinter, I decided to lay it on thick in a few of the corners. Too thick, it happened, in one of the corners, but because she was on my line, we both ended up sliding out, both quick to pop back up. She gained on me when I had to run up one of the ascents (note to self, get mudder tires), but then we were at my Go-Go-Gadget leg section. I laid it out to the side so far, I thought I was going to clip a pedal. That proved just enough to record my first UCI top-10 finish!

Part II... To be continued.