Happy Birthday Brett!

Brett,

I wanted to wish you a happy birthday and to tell you that you are an excellent team mate and great human being! I am proud to call you my friend.

Lungbuster CX - Mayberry, MI

So, Nate and I didn't think we'd get much competition if we headed south to the USGP's so we went 5 hours North to the little town of Mayberry, MI.  I had a family reunion in norther Ohio, so it worked out.

It is interesting to head to a race where you do not know a single other racer there...  feel like a real Darkhorse (pun intended).  Anyways, Nate lined up w/ 30+ other riders and got a great start and settled into 6th place for most of the race.  A ferocious battle of man vs chain ensued, and he ended up loosing several spots on the last lap due to some untimely mechanical to finish 12th.

I lined up w/ 22 other B racers and headed into the sigletrack 6th.  There was lots of singletrack, and MTB's at this race.  I moved into 5th on the first lap and took a bike so that Nate could untangle the weed that had engulfed my cassette.  Pit bike worked great and I kept 4th place in sight, hoping to make a move on the last lap.  The 4th place rider ended up having some problems, and I caught him early in the last lap.  I waited and waited till the last real straight heading into a single high speed barrier before sprinting around, taking a very hot dismount and remount, got a mall gap and kept it for 4th.  Great little road trip w/ family and friends there to enjoy it with.

-tinny out

USGP of Cyclocross Derby City Cup Day 2

Day two of the USGP included a few changes to the layout of the course: most notably, the demons in charge had used the runoff from the cleaning area to create a new obstacle on the backside: a large mudpuddle curving around the hill to yet another runup of RR ties. The conditions were also significantly different: it was colder (cold enough that after my pre-ride of the course my fingers hurt enough to throw a couple chemical warmers into my gloves), and yesterday's slick, sloppy mud had turned to a thick peanut butter that was significantly faster along the straightaways and that had created little berms in the corners -- if you caught them correctly, you could actually hold some real speed through them. Otherwise, they were just there to knock you over.


I lined up mid-pack again, on the right side of the field, with one guy between me and the barricade. Moments before the whistle, I noted that the guy on my left had his left foot up on the pedal, whereas I and the guy on my right had our right feet up. Now the tendency when you slam your top foot down in a start is to drift a little to the opposite side of that top foot. That meant the guy to my left and the guy to my right could both be angling toward me at the start, narrowing my window of forward progress.


But that wouldn't happen, right?


Nah. Worse. Three-Stooges worse. The whistle goes, the guy to my left moves in front of me and my bars hook into his. The guy to my right bumps shoulders with me as he drifts left, and my bars hook into his. The bump into me knocks him back toward the barricade, and the other side of his handlebars hook into the barricade. For a moment (as the rest of the field pedals by), the three of us are locked together, and then the guy on my left takes off (after all, he had nothing impeding his forward momentum, since I was hooked behind his bar). By the time I got untangled from the other guy, the pack was almost to the turn onto the grass. (I should mention here that the whole comedy sketch was amazingly polite, given the possibilities for frustrated outbursts and obscenities: "Sorry -- Here --" "No -- My bad..." "Okay, got it -- good luck!").


So not only am I starting 100th of 100+ riders, I've given them all a 200-meter headstart. I sprint and catch the tail end of the pack right before the turn onto grass, and come across two riders sprawled across the course. Slow down, go around, accelerate to the next left, where I avoid another downed rider and head toward the money pit. More carnage, riders sprawled left and middle -- dismount and run around right (oooh, that mud is cold!), remount, and then try to settle into a routine of passing riders, moving up, keeping my cool. At least one guy asked "what are you doing back here?" I chose to take it as a compliment.


After Saturday I had spent a lot of time thinking about how I could improve in Sunday's race, and here before I even got off the start line all those thoughts had been thrown out the window, at least in terms of overall placing. There was no way I'd see the front of the pack again -- or even the back end of the front -- and for a second I was kinda bummed and pretty frustrated. Then I took a deep breath ...


... And had a great time. I moved up throughout the first lap, and came across the finish line to discover that they were shortenning our race to 3 laps today instead of 4. "Two to go?!" I hollered to the officials. "Really?!" "Yep." For the first time ever, I was a little bummed that my race wasn't going to be longer -- I was moving up on every lap, getting the feel of the course, the cold and wet weren't cold anymore, and I felt pretty darn good. So for the final two laps I held myself closer to the redline, pushed when I might've let up in a one-lap-longer race, and tried to make the most of it. I took too tight a line in one corner, ended up in the brush, and dropped my chain again, but today it seemed like a minor inconvenience. Dug cheeered me on when I finally caught him, I heard others out on the course cheering me on, and at one point my heart lit up when I heard Carole and Mairin hollerin' for me. Eamon was ringin' the cowbell.


I rolled across the line tired and smiling, figuring I might have broken the top-50, and maybe squeaked into the 30s. Cleaned off the bike, changed, and was more than a little pleased to see my name next to #28.


A great weekend of racing, socializing, and spectating. The USGP and Louisville really put on a show with this event, and combined with the emergence of the UCI3 weekend in Cincinnati, the Ohio River Valley region is becoming a real heavyweight in the national CX scene. That's a Very Good Thing. (third photo courtesy of Ben Wilson.)

USGP Derby City Day 1

Made the pilgrimage to Louisville this past weekend to race both days in the USGP of Cyclocross Derby City Cup. The races are already starting to run together into one big lump of pain, so I'd better get these race reports out fast.

Saturday: We cat 4s got the 8:30 start (apparently an improvement over last year's 8:00 start, which happened to be two minutes before sunrise), which meant that most prerace preparations happened in the dark. by 7:45 it was light enough to preride the course without a headlight. I wish it had still been dark, because what we saw was the promise of sweet pain, a gift from the rains on Thursday and Friday: wet, boggy straightaways, greasy off-camber turns, a mucky down-up-and-back-down through a soggy drainage ditch, and four (4) rideable-but-only-on-the-right-line sandpits.

I lined up in the middle of a one-hundred-odd man pack, and when the whistle blew I got the best start I've had yet this year. Long paved start where I moved from fifth row to about second (row), a sweeping left across the field, left around a tree and then a curve right down into the drainage ditch (aka "the money pit") -- ran it the first lap in the crowded carnage (rode it otherwise), and moved up a little more -- up and then down right back through it. Turn through some trees and then a sloggy straightaway to the barriers, which felt deceptively high after grinding across the muck. Under the Green Monster (renamed "The Jolly Green Giant") and toward the pits. Over the pavement and a couple of twisties, and then the first sandpit, which had a drop-in to a nice (narrow) hardpack line where you could pick up speed all the way through. Left turn right out of the pit, so don't carry too much speed or you're breaking tape. Not much later you hit the second sandpit, which was hardpack for half, and deep sand for the second half: if you carried speed through the first part, you could get through the second without much pedaling. I know this because I dropped my chain first time through, and made it to the end coasting (more like flailing, but hey, it's my story, right?). Pulled off to the side, watched the lead group ride out of sight and a bunch of the others pass me as I forced the chain back on, hopped on, and rolled down the off-camber to a paved section. Back up through some muck, around a tree, down and up a tricky little grass-paved-grass off camber, and eventually you hit two more sandpits, both rideable (first one hardpack all the way through, the second a sloggy grind, but not too bad).



Somehwere in here on the second half of the course (or right after) was the Bob's Redmill RR-tie runup, as well as a long headwind straightaway so sloggy that I thought it would never end, the very entertaining off-camber positioned right near the beer tent (many slideouts with many beery "Ooohhs!"), and finally a straightaway toward the Green Monster: for me it was hoist the bike up, get up there, throw a leg over and let go, trying to at least get my feet (or one foot) on the pedals for the down ramp, followed by another downhill off the shoulder of a former tee-box. A real-live roller-coaster-type whoop-de-doo. Get around the corner, clip in if you haven't yet (and I hadn't, believe me), and pedal toward the start-finish area: loop around a tree and head out to the road. For all the manmade and other barriers and features of the course, the last 20 meters before the roadway on Saturday were the cruelest: flat, swampy, slower than slow, with speedy pavement sticking its tongue out at you just a few feet away. Finally back up on the road, and let's do it again!

On Saturday we did four laps: by the fourth I was pretty much on my own, although a Bob's Redmill guy was hanging with me, catching up on the technical stuff and after remounts. He slid out on a corner, but got up and rejoined me. Then, on the second sandpit (the same one! my nemesis) I came off the hardpack into the deep stuff, and saw a rut going the wrong way: sideways. It ate my wheel, took me down and bent my right shifter in. Got up seeing a few stars and rolled the rest of the lap solo, finishing 21st.

I was very happy, both with the course and atmosphere, and with my race. I had made a good start, and (I thought) except for my chain dropping, had put myself in position for a pretty high placing. I had kept an eye on the riders I know have scored in my OVCX field, and think I fared pretty well. (The plan as I understand it is that the OVCX scorers will separate out the age-group categories for purposes of that series -- all cat 4s regardless of age were scored together this weekend in deference to the "big show" in town). Plus, I knew there was tomorrow, which held out the promise of fairer conditions, and where I could work on improving some things from today.

Heh. More on that later... But before I go, let me give a shoutout to all the Rogues who put up with me this weekend. Special thanks to the OVCX Commissioner of Results Agitation Brian Segal, who not only put up with me, but put me up for the weekend. Those Rogues act all tough, but they're a bunch of softies, and they love their CX. (photo by Marcia Seiler)

Harbin Park 35+ 4s

I know Friday's wet trench warfare conditions got everybody all hot 'n' bothered and squeakin' 'n' squawkin' "epic! epic!" but with beautiful fall conditions and a good time racing, the chill sun of Sunday morning at Harbin Park was more my style. The ground was still wet, several places on the course were muddy enough to matter, but the sunshine made the festivities even more festive and the racing more racy.

Mitch designed a great course -- plenty of fast, plenty of turns, some off-camber, a diving downhill familiar to anyone who's done the Wednesday night practice rides, and the classic double sandpit, complete with Tony on the drums.

Lined up with my field, and was surprised not to see Greg (ZWS), who had taken first and second on Friday and Saturday. Saw him later, and he was an injury scratch. I was sad to see him go, although it most likely meant that almost all of us would move up one spot in the results. Chatted a little bit with Scot and Joern from Dayton about the little mulch bed with RR ties on either end: I had no spare wheels and couldn't afford a stupid pinch flat, so we were discussing whether or not it was totally lame to run it, or worth the risk to put my (questionable -- oh who am I kidding: nonexistent) bunny-hopping skills to the test. I asked Scot where his spare wheels were in the pit. He laughed.

The start was a pretty long flat paved section, and by the time we got to the off-camber section next to the road, today's winner in our field was away. Things really backed up, and I wasn't sure where I was positioned going toward the finish. The most aerobically challenging part of the course was the long headwind uphill grind over the field to the finish line, with a cruel little kicker up and over the line, continuing up through the uphill side of the sandpit. Did I mention that this section was uphill? I haven't looked at my max HR from the race, but I'm sure it came right as I exited the sandpit. At this point I make my way through the twisty section and come back down through the sandpit. I ride it clean, and am so stoked that I almost stop and look around for applause. Instead, I keep riding onto the section of the course that suits me better: some twisty sections through the trees, through the little mulch bed (please don't pinch flat on the railroad ties! please?! I repeated every lap). First lap I came off the mulch bed, bounced a little to check rear air pressure, and Joern, right behind me, says in his German-accented deadpan, "Shannon: you have a flat." Scot laughs. I panic for a second until I realize he's kidding, and we ride on. We take a long grass straight onto the backside of the course, 180 around a tree and onto pavement, fast down to a muddy transition back to grass, back to pavement and up around a turnaround, back onto grass and toward The Big Roller, aka Collarbone Corner: a diving downhill where -- with the right line -- you could release your brakes, pick up huge speed (for a CX race), whip up the other side and around the bend into a wooded section. I liked carrying speed into that section because for some reason I had good power through there, and was able to drop some folks and pass others. Around some trees, up and over the barriers, cross the road, around the pine tree and down to the mudhole. After the mudhole, make up as much ground as possible before zig-zagging through the off-camber and then into the headwind and the long long grind up to the finish line, knowing and dreading that the uphill slog through the sandpit awaited once again.

On the second lap I was pretty sure I was riding in second position, and sure enough as I rode the downhill side of the sandpit (cleanly, for the second time), the announcer says "and there's a Darkhorse rider, #601, our second place 35+ rider ... Shannon Smith." Now the pressure's on: one thing about CX I haven't got down yet is riding from the front (and from what I can tell of the first-place finisher's race, we were pretty much in a race for 2nd -- so for me, this was the front). I tried to relax, keep it steady, and push myself to just this side of the limit. But I couldn't help looking back, and it didn't seem like I was getting much distance between myself, Scot, Joern, Butch (Smitty's), and a QCW rider I think was Sparky (there were probably others in there, I just don't know them yet). And once I overcooked a pretty easy corner and went down on the 3rd lap, I figured holding off the chasers might be more of a challenge than I'd hoped.

So I let up a little, knowing that they'd join me, but knowing some of the risks involved with that: I was, after all, letting two teammates join me, but I was hoping to put some of the onus for driving the pace on Dayton, recover, and make a push to get away near the end. And so we headed into the fourth and final lap as 4, competing for 2nd through 5th: me, Scot and Joern, and Butch. We went up through the sand, hung out through the twisties, and headed back into the downhill sand section. I tried to take the same line I had all three previous laps: start right, grind it and drift left, clearing the pit just as I got near the left edge. This put me behind Butch, but no problem: Butch is a mountain biker, and he'll clean this easier than me. D'oh! Butch got sideways, I got into his rear wheel, and Joern and Scot were off to the races. I came out of the pit raring to go, and got a little gap on Butch that held. I rejoined Scot, but Joern was turning in one of his strongest laps of the race, and I didn't see him until he was prostrate on the ground at the finish. I led Scot around for the rest of the lap, trying to hold off Butch and wondering what I was going to do about Scot at the finish. And then I learned I was dealing with a true gentleman: near the end of the final lap, as I was working to keep Butch at bay, Scot told me not to worry about him, that he appreciated the work I'd done and wouldn't come around at the end, and in fact, here, let me see if I can lead you out. I finished as strong as I could, but pictures show that he may have had to hold up to avoid passing me. Let me add here (and Scot may now regret this) that Scot and I are very close in the series points standings for our category. So by removing the final contest for third place, he 1) surrendered a few OVCX points to a close rival, and 2) may have given up a place on the podium -- he definitely gave up a chance at the podium. I believe the term for this is mensch. I now owe Scot a solid, but I told him it might have to wait until road season.

Devou Park Darkhorse Cyclo-Stampede

I'll skip the parts from 7 am to the start of my race at 12:30, and from 1:15 until I rolled home at 9:15 pm, because, after all, they weren't racing -- well, the parts from 1:15 until 6:30 featured racing, but not mine, and I'll let others tell their own stories -- they were all that other stuff that goes into putting on a race: unloading and setting up barriers, taping the course, manning the course crossings, shuttling messages between registration and the announcers, breaking down and re-loading barriers, pulling stakes and tape in the dark, etc. (Okay, so maybe I won't skip those parts.)

I will add also that after forecasts of a deluge, the rain itself for the most part stopped Friday morning and, except for a few drizzles and spits, held off until we had wrapped up the last bit of yellow tape. But the course -- wow, was it wet. And my teammates had designed a diabolical course that would have been challenging and technical in the driest of conditions: tons of off-camber, some short but steep little legbreakers, a fair number of grass-to-pavement and pavement-to-grass transitions, and several nice little twisty sections.

But I'm getting ahead of myself: the dual logistics of running a weekday race and a UCI race meant that cat 4, cat 35+, cat 4 45+, juniors, and women cat 3/4 and 35+ would all be racing at the same time. I heard someone mention a total of 155 riders, and I'd believe it in a heartbeat. We were also going 30 minutes instead of the usual 40, but given the conditions and the challenging course, I didn't hear a single complaint.

My race kinda went like this: sprint off the line, weave through as much of the cat 4 open field as possible on the paved section up past the finish line and then right up toward the museum, watch Greg Fasig (Cycledots) power away through some magical hole in the field, never to be seen again, and then hit the greasy downhill from the museum toward the golf course. Whoa! Gridlock, and guys behind yelling "Ride! Ride! Don't stop!" and people stopping and dabbing and cursing until back out onto the pavement and right into off-camber #1 along the golf course; left foot out, coast through, and then a series of rollers and twists until up up up can I ride this? No. But look, I'm running past guys who are riding it, so let's run from now on. Back over the path and a few twists (where I'd have a slo-mo crash on a later lap) and down the cart path where, like on all the paths, mud would build up in a slick mound down the middle, so you'd think whew, I'm on pavement and safe for a few seconds, but oh no: on the second or third lap I'd see a guy wash out right in front of me. Carry some speed up and over, and then down past the barn and -- hey look, that rider (Kerry from Hungry) is dismounting before the end of the gravel -- wonder why. Round the bend, into the muck, up a little rise, bog down -- oh, that's why. Smart Kerry. Awkward dismount, run up, remount and ride down the slogfest clip in clip in clip in arrrgghhh oh well at least get one of your feet on the pedal, dismount and slog up the muck. Onto the path, back onto the bike, heading for off-camber #2. (This became a great spectator spot later in the day, since it got so bad that the pro riders would propel themselves as fast as possible along the off-camber until they couldn't pedal any more, hold their skid/slide/hydroplane until the last moment, dismount and find some way up the steep little kicker back to the road. Many superb riders misjudged this delicate ballet, and much tape was broken.) Claw, scrabble, and slide my way up to the road, remount, and head through the pits. The pits had one of the most deceptive difficult sections all day: a stretch of innocuous flat ground that was so soaked that it took forever to pedal through -- didn't look bad, didn't take riders down, but it sapped a lot of energy and stirred the seeds of panic: hey! I should be able to get through this no problem -- what's wrong? everyone's gonna catch me! Up out of the pits toward off-camber #3, this one with roots and juniors and a hill that was rideable the first lap, and maybe the second, but after that, get off, run up to the path, remount, back towards the road -- oh, crap, I forgot: barriers. Who put barriers on this course? -- that's inhumane, I tell you. back down twisting past the pits, and up through the finish line.

One down, three to go.

The race was a survival fest, and I had little sense of how I was actually faring. In fact, I had little sense of actually doing any racing, until the last lap: I got caught by a guy in my field (Sparky from QCW). I knew he had better handling skills than me, so I followed his line as much as I could through the lap. I decided I wouldn't panic if he gapped me, but that I'd sprint on the pavement to the finish line to catch him if I could (a roadie's revenge if you will). After the barriers he had 15 meters on me, and he gained a little more through the pit area. I hit the pavement, shifted (it still worked -- small miracle) into a harder gear, and passed him at the line, mouth open and totally gassed. It's little things like that I love learning in each of these races: where I can give ground, where I can make it up, how to recover just enough to make one more effort, and even when I've gone too hard and need to cut my losses by letting someone go.

There's no hiding in cyclocross, even when you're covered head to toe in mud and muck. Of course, the finish-line grin gives you away every time.

[Jeffrey's pictures are now up from Friday's race]

Tour de Louisville CX 35+ 4s

Left at dawn in Dan-O's Pilot w/ Tinny, coffee, 4 bikes, spare wheels, and more. Drive to L-ville was uneventful, except I just couldn't get over the GPS lady: does she talk back? does she yell at you? no and no, apparently, but her voice does take on a certain urgency when she says "recalculating ... recalculating..."

When we got there, we unloaded the bikes and headed for registration. I learned that pinning numbers on a skinsuit is way harder than on a simple jersey. I also learned that it's best to finish using the port-o-lets before putting the skinsuit on, but I learned that the hard way.

Unlike Kingswood, the organizers lined up the 4s Open first, then the 35+ 4s, and then the 45+ 4s, and sent us off individually. This was my first chance to look at the guys I was actually racing against, and put a few names from previous results to faces (and bib numbers). Anyway, the 4s went off, and we were ready to go when one of them went down in the starting straightaway, and didn't get up for what seemed like forever. We were going to go 30 seconds after their start, and as the time ticked down everyone kept looking at the guy on the ground, and then over to the official with his whistle in his mouth, and then back to the guy still on the ground, and ... finally, he got up, got back on his bike, and rode off.

And we were off! I'm still working on my start -- I think I came into the first turn in about 7th position, when I would've preferred to be in 3rd or 4th. The course was entirely on grass except for a couple of path crossings, and it was twisty and rolling. After one lap it seemed like there were about 4 of us at the front of the 35+ group, and we were beginning to pick our way through the back of the first field. I had pegged two guys at the beginning of my race to watch: Scot Hermann (Dayton) and Greg Fasig (ZWS): they had finished 1st and 2nd at Kingswood, and I had been well behind them there. Here I was keeping with them, and then Greg disappeared (I learned afterward that his chain, already with a faulty pin, had snapped). So I followed Scot a bit, along with a Smitty's rider (Butch); we were trailing at least one guy ahead who I didn't know. I felt pretty good, so I took a dig and Butch came with me, and then he dropped off a bit (after a painful remount experience -- I feel for ya, Butch, really I do), and then I was alone for most of the rest of the race, picking off the occasional rider from the field ahead, but eventually losing sight of the one guy I knew was ahead of me. We raced 5 laps; sometime in the fourth lap I started looking over my shoulder to make sure that no one was closing on me, and began pacing myself a little more carefully: those steep little kicker-hills were beginning to hu-u-u-rt, and I was starting to take poor lines on turns. I finished thinking I had probably got 2nd, maybe 3rd, and worst-case top-5 (in case I hadn't recognized two or three other riders in the grouping ahead of me). Initially the results came back saying I was 3rd, but they were corrected and I indeed did finish 2nd. Mairin helped me with my podium form before the awards.

For an all-grass course, there was a whole lot of variety: the downhills, tape placement, and tons of off-camber made for some real exercises in cornering, and I washed out my rear wheel a couple times and was fortunate not to go down. Several places were boggy mud that got more rutted as the ride went on. And the cruelly placed steep little kickers took away momentum just when you really wanted it, so there you couldn't really get a long stretch going. I guess it worked for me.

After my race we stuck around for a picnic, watched the 3s, and wore out our cowbells -- Nick represented well, and said he felt a whole lot better than at Kingswood. Dan went out and won the 35+ 3s. That's our Quarterback-horse.