Into the woodshed

I don't think I've ever experienced such a battle in the final lap of any race as I did Sunday in Carpentersville, number 5 in the Chicago Cross Cup series.

After the typical first lap disaster on probably the most technical of courses yet this season, in which I went into the tape twice and endoed once, not to mention getting passed at each barrier remount, I found myself in a knife fight for a top 15 placing among three other riders, Sasha Reschechtko (Tati), Justin Merkey (Rhythm Racing), and Tyler Avery (Pegasus). We constantly stole and gave up lines to each other turn after turn, or tried to drop each other in the pitted and rutted straightaways.


(Bill Draper)

As we raged into the final sweeping arc before the last u-turn to the line, it was Justin, me, and Tyler. I shifted to the big ring and tried to pull away but immediately we were elbow to elbow. I stupidly was still trying to move up on right, but that would've sent me into the tape and a tree on the final right u-turn - or would've crashed all three of us out, so by time I dropped back to reposition myself, it was far too late. Tyler broke free at the same time, and I crossed the line 3rd out of that group for 16th place.

I was pretty pissed at myself for misplaying the end, but once the High Life was cracked open and I was watching the 4Bs negotiate the pump section, all was again right with the world.

Overall the best day yet spent racing this fall. I had my best placing yet in the 30+ (22nd) - even while washing out on the first lap heading into the pumpers and face-planting in a turn - and the long-awaited Chubby Spud found its way into my hand once again:



Incredibly, I've moved up two places in the overall standings to eighth - wait, are we rewarding mediocrity here? I'm gonna have to start red-baiting this obviously socialist series?!? Don't worry, my much-harder-working call-up mates; I'm traveling the next two weekends in a pumpkin-carving, cider-drinking, corn-maze-claustrophobia-panicked fury, so that current placing will drop with the November temperatures. While Bryan Lee is getting his call-up dressed as Lady Gaga in a raw-meat skinsuit, I'll drinking all of my dad's beer while handing out Halloween candy on his porch wearing a wrestling mask.

Graceland

Thank you BBVP, Team Pegasus, and Chicago Cross Cup, for another stellar race in the 2010 series. Last year, Dan Ryan Woods was a vicious kick to the baby-maker, and renaming it Elvis Cross changed nothing. Well, almost nothing:


(Bill Draper)

It was hard to get out of bed, harder to get to the office today, and hardest to even stay awake once there:



30+

My placing in this category has trended downward since opening at 23rd in Jackson Park. The races have gotten more technical and hillier (or obstaclier, in DeKalb) and the competitive top half is getting stronger each time out. I started mid-pack, but then moved back quite a few places while trying to ride up the left-side singletrack: the first time I got caught behind teammate Paolo who had just taken a rear wheel on the chin, upending him; next time I lost traction all by myself, then locked up the front and endoed, finally getting back on once out in the sunlight only to start spinning my cranks madly, not going anywhere. Through the depths of my tunnel vision and frantic gasping, the cacophonous clanging of cowbells, I hear off to my left, oh so casually, “chain’s off.”

Thanks, guy.

Passed a bunch of dudes, ran up the hill on laps 3 and 4, and they all passed me again. Then I passed them again, and I said, “screw it” and decided to try one more time up the singletrack. FAIL w/endo again.

The race was still tons of fun however, mostly because a Team Tati rider in an old U of C kit wouldn’t let me pass him the last time of the second hill, cutting off my line and then opening a gap. I couldn’t quite close it through the final switchbacks, but didn’t let it get any wider by time we were hitting the last barrier. He phoned in the last 200m and I sprinted past him at the line for 33rd. It's the little battles that count for crossers like me.

After some recovery, I staked out some turf by the first 180 turn for the start of the Cat 3s, and nearly became the first off-the-bike relegation in racing history. Mr. Knauf approached to let me know it was Elvis Cross, not Dice Clay Cross. Sorry if I offended anybody.

I promise, later on I had some very clever, PG heckles.

4A

I got a call up for 9th overall, and was 5th wheel into the first turn, but I took it really wide, found the crowd coming up inside, and then after the chaos of the mud (WTF, is this the triathlete division?!) it jammed up terribly and I went through the 180 nearly at a trackstand. I was 8th or 9th coming up on the hill behind a little bit of a gap, when teammate Nick Venice came past like I was waiting to put my bike on the 147.


(Bill Draper)

And that was the only thing interesting about that race. Dropped my chain again. It’s funny how you can hear certain voices amid all the heckling, cowbell, and moments of singular pressure. Kirby’s voice cut through my brain like a knife.

I always lost places on the hill. There was one high point I’ll concede, when a VCS passed and tried to drop me on the second hill the second lap, but I wasn’t having any of it, and stayed right on his wheel. He was slower in the turns and that was the last I saw of him. Oh, and the Elvis sighting after coming down the hill, he passed me fast, with a, “on yah raght, brother! A-huh-huh!”

It was a good feeling to know that my 8th time up that hill was the last. 13th place. I'm still 10th overall and in line for a call up next race, but I won't be spending the entire weekend driving out to the suburbs, so I'll just be racing Carpentersville on Sunday. I can only hope and wait through Saturday's race in Waukonda.

Note the ethereal mood of this picture:


(Sue Wellinghoff)

Heaven will always be post-race. The endorphins will freshly flowing, the cooler will always have one more cold beer inside, and a new field of 4Bs will be just about to start. Oh, there's a cupcake...

Donzo:


(Sue Wellinghoff)

Flyover Country

It was a 7am departure on Sunday morning with teammate Evan to Dekalb - far west farm country - for the second race in the Chicago Cross Cup series competition, Hopkins Park.

That's a long way to drive just to ride your bike and drink beer, and I skipped this race last year. Two things convinced me to go this time. First, I'm a bit more dedicated to the discipline now, looking to stay active and have a lot of fun, if not experience great results. I've got a cyclocross bike now, so I might as well use it. With the four races, plus practice I've already been able to get in, I'm seeing better technique, new fitness, and getting to know and hang out with a lot of cool racers.


(Carborocket)

Second, was this:




And by that, I meant this:


(photo by Luke Seemann)

Yes, an honest-to-God flyover. I love cyclocross.

Masters 30-plus

We arrived with enough time to watch the Men's 40 plus field finish up their race and even then I heard it was a somewhat rough transition from the ramp to the grass. So by time I was at the line getting the pre-race instructions from Dave Fowkes, "have one foot in and be off the saddle" the ramp was already in my head. I have a hard time getting in my clips and I was imagining my feet being jarred off the pedals and being castrated before the first lap was finished.



And sure enough, each time up, there were people laughing and heckling me and screaming at me to "just go!!!", still other racers behind me - shoving to get past or jeering. It was about as embarrassing as any number of personal events involving puberty and hygiene in front of the classroom from 6th through 9th grade.

There is new entry to the Heckle Hall of Fame: "Next race I hold your bike for you!" by Michael Kirby (xXx Racing). Thanks, Kirby.


(Upper-left, by Larry Stoegbauer)

I passed riders, the same ones, multiple times, because they would come flying fearless past me again at the top of the ramp, while I flailed to get my foot in the clip before rolling. As well, even the straight sections of the course were riddled with hidden dips and potholes in the grass, preventing me from really attacking to close all the gaps I was giving up. No big-ringing it like at Jackson Park.

Thankfully I wasn't so slow to get pulled and I was able to get the full 45 minutes of pain and suffering in. 6 laps in all. I was somewhat disappointed with my effort, all the same, as I didn't have that same queasy feeling and retching from that last Masters race, two weeks ago, probably from six dead-stops at the top of the flyover, helping me to recover.


(Larry Stoegbauer)


4A

While waiting for the Men's Cat 1/2/3 race to start, I took about five or six practices of the flyover and down the other side, enough to where I felt comfortable jumping back on and rolling immediately. It was good to get that out of the way, and let natural ineptitude in the hole-shot sprint fuck things up, per usual.

I actually had a decent line coming out of turn 2 onto the bike path pavement before trying to make up ground on the left dirt shoulder, and then losing five or six spots coming back up over the pavement lip. Even worse, in mid-hurdle over the subsequent barriers, I smacked my head into a tree-branch, knocking me off-balance and catching myself in a Twister-like pose over my bike before righting myself, losing another three or four places. Then, I settled down, and into my usual cyclocross routine of playing catch-up and holding off those trying to do the same to me, and getting back into that top ten.



The flyover obstacle was much more fun this time around; I took it two and three steps at a time, and comfortably hopped back on and roared down, back up to speed with no issues, save for a few late clip-ins that prevented me from hammering right away.


(Sue Wellinghoff)

I was really deep in it this race, hacking and grunting, out of the saddle and in the drops, just trying to catch Tony (Beverly Vee Pak), Jonathon (Courage) and John (Main Street Bicycles). I really had no idea where I was, but catching them, and then seeing teammate Nick Venice in my sights (in 6th overall) I knew it was close to the front.


(Carborocket)

After coming down the barrier the last time with Tony right behind me, I suddenly heard the crowd roar in surprise: "Oooooooooh!" and looked back to see my pursuer off his bike. I found out later his carbon seat post snapped at the jarring transition back to the grass.

I am practically under contractual agreement to only say that you all know how I feel about carbon fiber components and a five-figure salary. Moving on.

The thing about the catch is it teases you forever. The rider ahead of you barely seems to be getting any closer for minute after interminable minute, and then suddenly, you are on top of him and passing quickly. Nick was still way out in front of me with only six turns to go, but then with with just three, he was behind me.

Based on some shouts from the crowd to a rider behind maybe a lap earlier, I was positive I'd just moved into 7th place. The last turn was a treacherous 180 around a tree, right in front of the crowd, over jarring, exposed roots. It was very easy to take it too narrowly and find yourself through the tape, or lose your traction and slide-out. Thankfully, I took it perfectly and sprinted as hard as I could, keeping the gap open behind me.

That effort was much harder than the 30 plus in the morning. That is what motivation will do for you. That kind of pressure in front and behind you will have you dry heaving in grass, struggling to catch just one more gasp of air, all with a smile on your face, because by yourself, it just isn't possible. We race because it's impossible to push yourself that hard any other way.

I had 11th place. Exactly the same as two weeks prior in Jackson Park. Hey, consistency is a good thing. The other top 10 placings were quite different this time around, and as such, with a couple of earlier upgrades to the 3s by others, I'll be getting a call-up this coming Sunday at Elvis Cross, Dan Ryan Woods, for 10th 9th place. (upgrades -woot!)

Giddyap.


(Carborocket)

Jurassic Park

(pix by the amazing Steven Vance)

No, not quite. Although I had a startling realization as I was filling out my waiver on Friday night for Coach Randy's Jackson Park race-eve skills clinic, that my cyclocross racing age is actually 39...so next year that won't be too far from the truth.

A dinosaur on a bike.

However, since this year I'm still the spring chicken in my 30s, I ponied up for the Masters 30 Plus and the 4As. You have to double up in my situation. The 4s races are too short, and when your team is hosting, you gotta be out there. Maybe next I'll do the hat trick with two masters races and the 3s.

You guys can yell sandbagger all you want, but I'm staying in the 4s this year until I'm either on the podium or forced to upgrade. I may have Cat 3 power, but I have Cat 5 handling skills, so I think the 4s is a safe average on which to net out.

Anyways, Jason Knauff hates my constant blogging and called me out on my call up...so Jason, here's to you.

I pre-rode the course - another A+ design by teammate Greg Heck - as the 40 plus men were staging and twitching to get the 2010 Chicago Cross Cup season underway. The course was long and fast - versatile, in fact - suited to both mad CX skills in the technical turns and off-camber twists; and to roadies, who could make up for their short-comings by hammering in the straightaways.



30+

I'll keep it short and sweet for a long and bitter race. Two and half laps in I was almost puking, after having started near the back and then turned myself inside out to work my way up to 25th or so in a sold-out field of 75. Coming past the wheel pit I tried to hawk one but it got stuck halfway, stretched out between my throat and dangling down my chin. Trying to then force it out almost made everything else come up as well.

Pushing hard past David of Roscoe Village and a very determined Martin of The Pony Shop, the last two laps I could only keep the pressure up and held on to a well-deserved 23rd place. It was my best placing by far in an open field, so I was pretty happy with my effort there.

4A

As I mentioned before, I got a call up in this race. Traditionally, and for the remainder of the season, call-ups to the line are given based on your overall placing. The starting line is ten wide, so a call-up is like gold in a racers quest for the hole-shot. But since there were no results to go on, the call-ups at Jackson Park were awarded on a lottery basis, rather than last year's placing as had been done in the past. And with 10 names out of a pool of 75, the odds weren't that bad.

And truthfully, in my second race, I wasn't too surprised to hear my name called with Sister Sprocket's third dip into the paper bag filled with names. And then to hear Erik's name right after I rolled up.



The starting sprint was madness, with two big crashes in the opening turns. My technical skills were a real liability in this race and soon the podium gone. Patty, with Jack, and her sister Rose and niece Kaila watched from the mid section where they could scream and heckle multiple times as we doubled and tripled back.



I did cling to the Top 10 for most of my blazing three laps, until the very end when I was passed in a turn (where else) by Lew of Rhythm Racing. The gap closed little by little in the closing meters, but ultimately it was too late - 11th place - and I won't be getting a call-up on October 3rd in Dekalb, the next race in the series.



The 4B started right where it left off last year, with every level of fitness and skill represented in their three laps, and more heckling than a heathcare townhall meeting in Tyler, Texas.

Huge thanks to Illlinois Cycling, Chicago Cross Cup, all the officials, the sponsors, and of course, all the teams that showed up and made Sunday such a spectacular opening to the 2010 cyclocross season.