Uncle Steve's Halloween CX

Ventured north on Saturday with the family for a big day of cyclocross, hanging out with friends, and trick-or-treating in the state capitol. We had rain all the way up 71, and my enthusiasm for a rainy, cold race waned with every drop. But (as the weatherheads promised), once we turned west toward Marysville, the skies cleared and it turned into a crisp, sunny, lovely autumn day.

With really muddy ground. Again.

Uncle Steve's, round 2 of the Cap City Cross series, was a different animal than the OVCX races: fewer racers, fewer races (3), more casual. Add in the Halloween celebration, and you had an atmosphere of general fun and good times.

Which was good, since we got a later start out of Cincinnati than I wanted, and we got a little lost on the way, so I was totally off my game by the time we arrived. Plus, after putting on my costume (Darkhorseman of the Apocalypse, of course), pinning my number on twice (to ensure visibility even with the cape), and riding my sole practice lap, I realized that the cape on the costume turned me into a windsock on a windy day, made remounts a blind leap of faith (and if there's anything in CX you don't want to be a blind leap of faith, it's the remount), and was destined to snag me on multiple tree branches and course stakes. So I made a quick switch into more typical raceday garb, which entailed re-pinning my number super-fast, and telling the organizers that I was forfeiting the half-price entry fee because I couldn't wear my costume because it wasn't safe but I had to race right now and I'd get them the $10 after my race. Which of course, I forgot. (Team Awesome, I owe you $10.) All of these things had me just frazzled enough that I forgot my helmet when I headed to the start line. Only the kindness of a competitor saved me from realizing this too late. Add in the fact that I was venturing into the B field (aka 3s, aka 45 minutes) for the first time, and I needed a fun, positive atmosphere around me.

We lined up, about 30 racers: costume callups to the front, everybody else behind, and we're off! I started back row left, and hit the first left turn pretty much near the back. The main field -- essentially a large back yard, now that I think about it -- was set up as a series of taped twists and turns: not really a pinwheel, but I imagine it had a similar effect for spectators. The first set of barriers was in here somewhere, and they were tough: the tape narrowed to make them at most two across, they were spaced awkwardly to disrupt running rhythm (mine, at least), and there was a righthand 180 afterward that made remounting before the turn too tricky for most to try. We rolled through a dirt trail in the woods, and turned up to a few taped switchbacks: up, and then down, and then up, and then down, and finally up again to the road, a muddy 180 next to the road, a long sloggy straightaway where, if you took the fastest line, you'd get whacked in the head by tree branches, up and over the driveway, and left down toward the pond and the technical stuff. Loop around a tree, drop down a muddy leftward stretch with water on the right, curve around the water and hit a steep little mudslide that I only ever managed to ride up once, and wished I hadn't (since it was slower that way), along a ridge and left back down into some swampy suff that was turning to peanut butter. Right again to a short RR-tie runup, and then back along the ridge to drop down left again. Short straightaway, right turn, and then 180 around a tree; left onto another straightaway, another 180 around a tree, and then a long swooping left toward the second, wider barriers. Remount, loop around a couple more trees, then up the hill, hairpin, and down through the finish line.

After the second lap, the official shouted "6 to go!" as I rode by; I had to fight the urge to get off and throttle him then and there. I thought better of it when I realized that my legs were such jello that I might not be able to walk. I think he took mercy, because by my count we only did 5 more, for a total of 7 laps.

This was racing in a paper bag, the course was so tight. And where it wasn't muddy and swampy, the ground was bumpy and rutted enough that I was never comfortable: at different points in the race I was sure I had pinch-flatted my rear tire and broken my seatpost. Just a tough tough course. At least, that's what I kept telling myself, even as I knew that I also just wasn't having a good day: my legs weren't responding, and they hurt when I tried to power over little rises and around tight corners. I'm pretty sure I wasn't the only one suffering: on the last lap I rode back up to a rider who had passed me earlier in the race. Coming up the last rise and around the final hairpin into the finishing stretch, I caught him, and then gunned it a little to pass him in the stretch. He wasn't happy about someone "sprinting for 14th place," and let me know. I smiled and said "It's racing, man -- come on!" I don't think he was persuaded.

Looking back over this race report, it might seem like I didn't have a good time, but that's just not true: my family was there with cowbells, our Columbus hosts were there for their first-ever cyclocross race, and the Farmers were out there giving me extra cheers. Mark even told me that his grandmother would beat me, which really inspired me to ride harder. With the tight course, they could all pretty much stand in once place and holler for me five and six different times per lap. It was like having an entourage, and I loved it. I wish I could've raced better, but I loved it. And at least once per lap, the announcer would exhort the crowd to have more beer. And the Jeni's guy who raced in a diaper got his costume stuck in his rear brake on the second lap and raced the rest of the day in his tiny red tighties. I beat the cheerleader (I think), but got beat by the wizard, the skeleton, and several zombies, which is okay, since they probably ate the brains of anyone who beat them. The Mormon missionaries were drinking Miller High Life, and my remount is getting smoother and faster, although I'm still losing time getting clipped back in.

In short, I'm keeping this one on next year's schedule, and I'm already looking for the right costume: scuba diver, maybe?