sashax
10-04-2005, 04:48 PM
Hey, folks, here's my first attempt at a race report. I think I pulled out all the "If you don't know what cyclocross is" stuff, and added enough "I was running a 12-25" stuff to make it interesting to this crowd, but it's certainly long enough...
This weekend marked the debut of my ever-so-amateur cyclocross career, with the first race in the Northern Cal Pilarcitos race #1.
I started the hot cyclocross action on Saturday with a clinic, put on by the folks from Sycip Cycles, including my friend Dennis. I have to say that this clinic was invaluable. I went in vaguely knowing that you have to stand on your left pedal before you jump off to carry your bike over barriers, and ended up with some actual clue about how to do that without killing myself.
We also learned a fair amount about how to strategize for a race, and how to adjust for changing conditions. We found one part of Sunday's course that consisted of a couple barriers followed by a short steep embankment, and practiced our transitions over the barriers and up and down the embankment. The approach to the barriers included a couple shrubs, and I figured out that it was possible to ride between them, knowledge that I would use the following day.
I had one sudden moment of realization that the next day I would be racing on a course with a mess of other people. Until that point, I'd been thinking only about the actual riding: was I in shape, could I manage the barriers, would the sand throw me off? (the answer to the last two was definitely yes) But as I backed off to keep from whacking into one of the other clinic participants, I realized that I'd need to be pushing to get there first, not back off as I would on a normal casual ride.
Finally, we got a chance to ride the course for Sunday's race. We went through slowly a first time to just check it out, with the Sycip folks talking us through various parts. We then grouped up on the pavement, to practice the start, and headed out to do a faster lap. We did the last half of the pavement part of the course, and then turned left onto the dirt. That first turn was quickly followed by a 180 degree right hander, which I, well, missed. I went into it too fast and both tires went out from under me. I managed to take a big patch of skin off my right shin, but I jumped back up and kept riding. I shook off the crash, perhaps a little precipitously, as we will see.
The rest of the day went fine, and ended with a Q&A.
Saturday night, I was really nervous, and didn't sleep all that well. I decided, however, that I had two goals: not to get lapped and not to puke. Yes, they were negative goals, but goals nonetheless!
I woke up at 6:30 on Sunday to eat, do a quick sunrise salutation (yep, I'm from California), and shower. The race was at 9, and Kelleigh and I needed to go get Dennis and get to the course by 8, so we could warm up.
There was no problem warming up, and the course was just as I remembered it from the previous day. Dennis said he thought we'd be running about 5 or 6 laps over the 40 minute course of the race.
I was now about to start my first bike race ever! (other than a few triathlons I did in high school, but those were 20 years and more than 100,000 cigarettes ago).
The start was a huge mess. There were about 90 people in my race, broken up into 4 groups (Men's C: slow guys of all ages (hey, that's me!), Men's 35 + B: old slow guys (could also be me, in theory), Men's 45+ B: even older slow guys, and Juniors: young fast kids). I was told that the first part of the race is getting to the starting line soon, and this is definitely a part of the race I did not win. We were the second group, and I was near the back. All the practicing I did the day before to get a good start was basically wasted, as I was forced to thread my way through the crowd.
At the second turn on the dirt (the very same spot I crashed the day before) there was a pileup. Several folks went down, but I was able to get around them on the side of the trail. "Aha!" I thought, as if Fate wouldn't notice I was tempting it, "good thing I crashed yesterday, so I know enough not to do it again today." The rest of the lap was pretty much incident-free, although there was one run-up I was sure I could ride, but somebody dismounted right in front of me, spoiling my approach. This would happen the next couple laps, before I finally figured out that I was never going to get a clean shot at it, and I should just carry the bike like everybody else.
When I hit the paved part of the course, which consisted of a long straight followed by a couple sharp turns, I began to understand a couple things: first, that I don't have the sprinting muscles that a lot of these other guys have, and second, that I have absolutely no idea how to ride around corners on the road. I sort of held my own on the straight part, but got absolutely smoked on the twisty part.
I hit the start/finish line and headed into the dirt for the second time. And wham! I went down in exactly the same place as I did in practice, and as the guys on the lap before. Road rash on my road rash. Not pretty at all. For the first time that day, I heard someone ask "are you alright?" as he ride past me. I was, of course, but I wondered what he would have done had I said "no". Would he stop?
Anyway, now that I had fallen, I finally got into a rhythm. After the beginning of the dirt stretch, there was a quick drop, followed by a short, sharp climb (just like all the other climbs). I managed to remember to downshift as I was dropping, so I could make the climb, every single lap.
As I was coming to the line after my fourth lap, I was pretty pleased. "Only one or maybe two more laps", I thought to myself. I was pretty shocked, then, to hear the timer guys announcing "three to go".
I think it was on this lap that I was able to use the space between the shrubs to make a pass on a guy. It was also on this lap that things started to get really sandy. Also the lap that I realized I don't really know how to ride in sand. From this point forward I had about 5 little biffs in sand. Nothing serious, but not all that conducive for fast riding either. I did finally realize that the ground just past the first set of barriers was really sandy, and I would be better off carrying the bike past the first 20 feet before trying to remount.
I pretty much held my own until the last lap. When I could actually stay on my bike I was passing a few people, but my hangups in the sand cost me a few places. I also realized (a little late, obviously) that since I was reeling in everybody ahead of me on the transition from pavement to dirt (which included my fateful corner), I was probably taking that part a little fast. I started to take it slightly less aggressively, and cut down on the falling quite a bit.
On the final lap, I had pretty much gotten the course nailed down and was able to pass a few folks. When I got to the end of the dirt I saw a guy on a mountain bike about 20 feet ahead of me. Some guy in team kit (all white, not sure what team) saw me trying to reel him in, and shoulted encouragement at me, "you can do it! C'mon, he's on a mountain bike!" I blew by the guy as we got on to the pavement, and opened up some space. At that point, however, I realized that I was in danger of not making my #2 goal (which, you may recall, was not puking). So I was not really able to put the hammer down. I still got into the twisty part of the pavement ahead of him.
He passed me on the second turn, along with another guy who was pushing past him. He got about 10 feet ahead of me, and just held me off to the line.
I didn't puke, but it was a far closer thing than the race. After cooling down, I saw the guy on the mountain bike again. It was a singlespeed! Damn, that's tough.
Overall, I felt pretty good about the race, I was pretty sure I was on the lead lap, and I didn't puke. My transitions were not bad, and other than the disasterous pavement turns and the tendency to fall too damn much, I held my own. I certainly didn't feel like I left anything on the course, other than a few feet of skin. I have some stuff to work on, but my years of mountain biking and half-year of road biking seem to have prepared me to be a not-embarassing masters rider eventually.
Imagine my surprise, then, when I looked up the results the next day, and saw myself listed as DFL, two laps down! I was pretty sure that was wrong, as I was listed after someone I know I lapped. Plus, I was pretty sure someone had said nobody did more than 7 laps, and that's what I had done. So I sent what i hoped was a polite letter to the results people asking them if there were any possiblity they had maybe missed something. They checked into it, and realized that they had missed a bunch of people in our race. Today, they posted the updated results, including recalculated positions for about 10 people in Men's C, and I ended up 18th out of 41 in my class, a solid mid-pack finish, and on the lead lap.
And yes, I am hooked.
This weekend marked the debut of my ever-so-amateur cyclocross career, with the first race in the Northern Cal Pilarcitos race #1.
I started the hot cyclocross action on Saturday with a clinic, put on by the folks from Sycip Cycles, including my friend Dennis. I have to say that this clinic was invaluable. I went in vaguely knowing that you have to stand on your left pedal before you jump off to carry your bike over barriers, and ended up with some actual clue about how to do that without killing myself.
We also learned a fair amount about how to strategize for a race, and how to adjust for changing conditions. We found one part of Sunday's course that consisted of a couple barriers followed by a short steep embankment, and practiced our transitions over the barriers and up and down the embankment. The approach to the barriers included a couple shrubs, and I figured out that it was possible to ride between them, knowledge that I would use the following day.
I had one sudden moment of realization that the next day I would be racing on a course with a mess of other people. Until that point, I'd been thinking only about the actual riding: was I in shape, could I manage the barriers, would the sand throw me off? (the answer to the last two was definitely yes) But as I backed off to keep from whacking into one of the other clinic participants, I realized that I'd need to be pushing to get there first, not back off as I would on a normal casual ride.
Finally, we got a chance to ride the course for Sunday's race. We went through slowly a first time to just check it out, with the Sycip folks talking us through various parts. We then grouped up on the pavement, to practice the start, and headed out to do a faster lap. We did the last half of the pavement part of the course, and then turned left onto the dirt. That first turn was quickly followed by a 180 degree right hander, which I, well, missed. I went into it too fast and both tires went out from under me. I managed to take a big patch of skin off my right shin, but I jumped back up and kept riding. I shook off the crash, perhaps a little precipitously, as we will see.
The rest of the day went fine, and ended with a Q&A.
Saturday night, I was really nervous, and didn't sleep all that well. I decided, however, that I had two goals: not to get lapped and not to puke. Yes, they were negative goals, but goals nonetheless!
I woke up at 6:30 on Sunday to eat, do a quick sunrise salutation (yep, I'm from California), and shower. The race was at 9, and Kelleigh and I needed to go get Dennis and get to the course by 8, so we could warm up.
There was no problem warming up, and the course was just as I remembered it from the previous day. Dennis said he thought we'd be running about 5 or 6 laps over the 40 minute course of the race.
I was now about to start my first bike race ever! (other than a few triathlons I did in high school, but those were 20 years and more than 100,000 cigarettes ago).
The start was a huge mess. There were about 90 people in my race, broken up into 4 groups (Men's C: slow guys of all ages (hey, that's me!), Men's 35 + B: old slow guys (could also be me, in theory), Men's 45+ B: even older slow guys, and Juniors: young fast kids). I was told that the first part of the race is getting to the starting line soon, and this is definitely a part of the race I did not win. We were the second group, and I was near the back. All the practicing I did the day before to get a good start was basically wasted, as I was forced to thread my way through the crowd.
At the second turn on the dirt (the very same spot I crashed the day before) there was a pileup. Several folks went down, but I was able to get around them on the side of the trail. "Aha!" I thought, as if Fate wouldn't notice I was tempting it, "good thing I crashed yesterday, so I know enough not to do it again today." The rest of the lap was pretty much incident-free, although there was one run-up I was sure I could ride, but somebody dismounted right in front of me, spoiling my approach. This would happen the next couple laps, before I finally figured out that I was never going to get a clean shot at it, and I should just carry the bike like everybody else.
When I hit the paved part of the course, which consisted of a long straight followed by a couple sharp turns, I began to understand a couple things: first, that I don't have the sprinting muscles that a lot of these other guys have, and second, that I have absolutely no idea how to ride around corners on the road. I sort of held my own on the straight part, but got absolutely smoked on the twisty part.
I hit the start/finish line and headed into the dirt for the second time. And wham! I went down in exactly the same place as I did in practice, and as the guys on the lap before. Road rash on my road rash. Not pretty at all. For the first time that day, I heard someone ask "are you alright?" as he ride past me. I was, of course, but I wondered what he would have done had I said "no". Would he stop?
Anyway, now that I had fallen, I finally got into a rhythm. After the beginning of the dirt stretch, there was a quick drop, followed by a short, sharp climb (just like all the other climbs). I managed to remember to downshift as I was dropping, so I could make the climb, every single lap.
As I was coming to the line after my fourth lap, I was pretty pleased. "Only one or maybe two more laps", I thought to myself. I was pretty shocked, then, to hear the timer guys announcing "three to go".
I think it was on this lap that I was able to use the space between the shrubs to make a pass on a guy. It was also on this lap that things started to get really sandy. Also the lap that I realized I don't really know how to ride in sand. From this point forward I had about 5 little biffs in sand. Nothing serious, but not all that conducive for fast riding either. I did finally realize that the ground just past the first set of barriers was really sandy, and I would be better off carrying the bike past the first 20 feet before trying to remount.
I pretty much held my own until the last lap. When I could actually stay on my bike I was passing a few people, but my hangups in the sand cost me a few places. I also realized (a little late, obviously) that since I was reeling in everybody ahead of me on the transition from pavement to dirt (which included my fateful corner), I was probably taking that part a little fast. I started to take it slightly less aggressively, and cut down on the falling quite a bit.
On the final lap, I had pretty much gotten the course nailed down and was able to pass a few folks. When I got to the end of the dirt I saw a guy on a mountain bike about 20 feet ahead of me. Some guy in team kit (all white, not sure what team) saw me trying to reel him in, and shoulted encouragement at me, "you can do it! C'mon, he's on a mountain bike!" I blew by the guy as we got on to the pavement, and opened up some space. At that point, however, I realized that I was in danger of not making my #2 goal (which, you may recall, was not puking). So I was not really able to put the hammer down. I still got into the twisty part of the pavement ahead of him.
He passed me on the second turn, along with another guy who was pushing past him. He got about 10 feet ahead of me, and just held me off to the line.
I didn't puke, but it was a far closer thing than the race. After cooling down, I saw the guy on the mountain bike again. It was a singlespeed! Damn, that's tough.
Overall, I felt pretty good about the race, I was pretty sure I was on the lead lap, and I didn't puke. My transitions were not bad, and other than the disasterous pavement turns and the tendency to fall too damn much, I held my own. I certainly didn't feel like I left anything on the course, other than a few feet of skin. I have some stuff to work on, but my years of mountain biking and half-year of road biking seem to have prepared me to be a not-embarassing masters rider eventually.
Imagine my surprise, then, when I looked up the results the next day, and saw myself listed as DFL, two laps down! I was pretty sure that was wrong, as I was listed after someone I know I lapped. Plus, I was pretty sure someone had said nobody did more than 7 laps, and that's what I had done. So I sent what i hoped was a polite letter to the results people asking them if there were any possiblity they had maybe missed something. They checked into it, and realized that they had missed a bunch of people in our race. Today, they posted the updated results, including recalculated positions for about 10 people in Men's C, and I ended up 18th out of 41 in my class, a solid mid-pack finish, and on the lead lap.
And yes, I am hooked.