Cross Stuff

I ended up driving down to Frankfort by myself (actually had a good time and enjoyed the drive) for my 11am start. The course was a classic four corner crit, composing of 2 longer straightaway's with 2 shorter side streets. The road surface was "okay" but not great - I thought my tires were going to come unglued on some of the rough spots on the corners. The course was less than 1 mile in length and positioning was key. There was a sweeping left turn onto some cobles that was the back half of a "around about", leading into the finish line. Interesting thing was that as soon as you came out of the last turn, the finish line was less the 100 meters away. We had a field of about 36 start. Lots of attacks by the host team McDonald's, as well as Bike Clicks. Steve Fine from Team Dayton was there, along with two other guys from Greater Cin. The pace stayed pretty hot for most of the race and was single file through most of the turns. Felt pretty good and was able to respond well to surges and attacks. I got lucky early on by making a move to the front just as a series of attacks and counter attacks kept the pace extremely high for about 3 laps (if you look at the garmin, this is was the first of two times my heart rate spiked into the 180's). I was able to stay in the draft and near the front during this brief surge and didn't burn too many matches. I think my race would have turned out a little different otherwise - I remember looking back once and it was pretty strung out with guys working hard to pull it back together. With 4 laps to go, things got pretty hairy with everyone trying to get to the front. I fought like hell to hold onto my placing. There were a couple of attacks that we'd pull in and then with 2 to go, this dude made a sweet move and got a really good jump on the whole field that no one wanted anything to do with. He managed to stay away and deservedly took 1st place. Coming into the last lap and racing for second, the field swelled to about 6 wide with one or two guys dangling off the front. I was in a good spot when two guys from Scheller's Fitness & Cycling made the jump coming into the first turn of the last lap, easily taking the lead. I saw the move and jumped onto their wheel and went with them. I remember the guy in front of me screaming at his lead out man to "go-go-go!" And boy did he listen: great lead-out. I stayed on this wheel until we came through the cobles and out of the last turn and sprinted my arse off - four guys came around me (because I can't sprint) but managed to hold off the others for an 8th place finish. Needless to stay, I'm pretty stoked! However a little bittersweet - If I was a better sprinter, I maybe could've held onto a fourth or fifth place easily. Oh well.

Bond Road Race Cat 3 Report

Bond Road lived up to all my expectations:
1. It's going to be hard
2. Seven times up that hill is going to suck
3. I will cramp before the finish

It was hard. One of, if not, the hardest road races I've done. It started the very first time up the hill. The 3's were combined with the 1/2/3's again so this made it really exciting. The spanish mountain goats blasted up the hill and had the entire field strung out immediately. I was somewhere in the middle when we started the climb and had to dig real deep to stay on a wheel that was still attached to the guys in front. I think the field split in half at that point but came back together after the descent a few miles later. The next time up the hill, another selection was made and I was feeling pretty good to be in it, along with Chris Anderson. The next time up the climb, the big boys got tired of the child's play and took off. Bye, Bye. A group of 8 or 10 of us decided we liked our own pace better and rolled on our own, content to still be out in front of the rest of the field. Things were going OK during the next couple laps, then with 3 laps to go the cramps had set in on the climb and I couldn't keep the pace. I yelled to Chris that I was out, and proceeded to race that 2nd to last lap solo. On the bell lap, another chase group swallowed me up and I integrated with them rotating through. This wasn't too bad as it was during the downhill and the flats leading up to the climb. When we hit the final climb, I stayed left and waved the others by, knowing I'd be keeping it slow to prevent a complete lock-up of the legs. I nursed it up the climb and managed to cross the line. That Sucked! But in a good way ;) Just checked the results and looks like I finished 13th. I'll take it. See you at Ault Park.

Georgetown

The Georgetown road race (#6 of the Series) was not only my first road race win but also my first race as a member of the Darkhorse Racing team! The excitement of winning was an awesome feeling, so much so that I stopped short of the finish line (half disoriented from the extreme effort of my breakaway) and walked my bike across the finish line. I must say it kind of takes some of the luster of the win away when you get reamed by the race director for being a potential hazard for the sprint finish that came about 15 seconds later, but oh well.

That being said here is a general overview of the race:
It raining all day but the temp was very comfortable and the course was not was curve filled as advertised so the wet roads weren't that dangerous. The Cat fours started with 17 and ended with 9 and all 9 rode alone together the last 2 of the 4 twelve mile loops. One descent followed by a nice curve, where at least two racers whiped out (Dan says someone in his race even nailed a road sign) followed by a little climb was the only signifacnt elevation change during the race.

Alex and I talked a little strategy during the race about the right location to make a move towards the last half mile but I noticed that any time some one flew out in front of the pack it would take quite a while for the pack to get a chase organized so that was the big clue that a break away could hold to win the race.

With about 1.5 miles left in the race I decided to make a move at a location I had pinpointed earlier as being ideal. The attack came just after a sharp 120 degree turn where I coasted through at the front with the hope of sneaking down the dip in the road following by a short incline. The plan worked and I was out in front before most noticed the move and then I just kept hammering away, I briefly went off the road while turning onto a new road, then I'm sure I lost a little ground during the last half mile but I just cruised to about 10 feet short of the line and trotted the rest of the way (accidentally).

From there is was all jokes about my bonehead finish which I'm sure Lance and Alex will never let me live down. Overall the races and group rides with darkhorses have made cycling even more fun and fulfilling than ever before. I'm looking forward to riding, racing, and jumping up categories to help bring even more noteriety to the Darkhorse team than we already have earned! Thanks for making me part of the team!

-Dave Minner

Vandervoort's Corner Road Race Cat 3 Report

First real race of the season for me since I can't count Hueston's mechanical issue last week as a race. Brett and I lined up for the 56 mile journey. Things started pretty tame and actually stayed pretty tame throughout the race. A couple of mini breaks went up the road but were eventually reeled in. I tried to get into a couple of them, but with no success. Finally with maybe 2 laps to go, two guys went off the front and had a pretty good gap. Then, somehow, one of them was caught but the other found his way in front of the pace car. I don't think a lot of guys realized this, even after stating to them that he was out there. Anyway, long story short, the last lap got ramped up thanks to Dayton and Abundance. With a couple miles to go, I found myself way too far back in the pack and decided I needed to get to the front. Got their pretty quickly. Looked around to see who to follow and didn't recognize anyone familiar. Just as we swallowed up the lone guy off the front, I went left of center on the road (legal for the finish) and took off with 200 meters to go and was able to hold it to the line. Yes, I won! Felt great, no cramps, perfect. Big thanks to Chris Muse for coming out to photograph us. Props to Brett for finishing 10th!!

Imagine that on Uranus

Step into the way back machine // Mike's Bikes and O.B.

Sunday, March 07, 2010 // Northern Kentucky Ride

A tough day at the office, thanks to Chip and Doug bringing the hammer of Thor on today's ride. I hurt all over. I hope the west side branch of Darkhorse fared better. Twenty one days and counting until the first Ohio Spring Race Series!

3000 Words

A picture is worth a thousand words, so here are 3 to back up Lance's blog below.

Team Camp 2010

The morning of the Darkhorse training camp started at Alex's house, a central place for all, in the dark at 5:50 AM. We finally got loaded up and set out around 6:30, seven guys, two vehicles. We drove south on 75 for Gatlinburg, happy and excited. We stopped at Cracker Barrel for what Chris described as breakfast cooked in butter, and arrived at a Chic FilA in Gatlinburg around 1:00 PM. After lunch we headed to the spot where the casual afternoon ride would begin.

There is a crossroad where a vacant BP station is across from a new grocery store, distinguished by the words "Bulk Food" on the facade. We asked the kindly lady if we could possibly change our clothes and park our cars in their lot. She was kind enough to offer the new, state-of-the-art restrooms in the adjacent building for us to change but suggested we find somewhere else to park--no problem: vacant BP across the street. After getting changed (taking over both the mens and ladies facilities) we setup in the gravel lot next to the BP, and set out from there.

The first inkling that there may be some problems was the couple of snow flakes that flurried around as we pumped our tires. Not to worry, a couple of flurries never hurt anyone. We rode off happy to finally be on the road and out of the car. Dan forgot his water bottles; no problem, he went back to get them and we soft pedaled till he and Chris caught back on, and we were off. The snow had picked up.

We were riding well (I was trying like hell not to get spit out the back in the first 5 miles) and we came around one corner and I looked up at a snow-covered mountain and I said something like "That's pretty cool looking". That was the only cool looking thing I remember seeing all day. Did I mention that it was snowing? Not flurrying, snowing. No problem though a light snow never hurt anyone.

It was mile 15 when we stopped and Dan, the man with the map, said well we can turn back now or we can keep going. If we keep going we will have another 30 miles. I never heard how quickly we could get back, because I wanted to keep going, and I didn’t listen to anything about going back. Finally I think 6 of us voted for going on, and I don’t remember any strong protests. Chip was going to be so proud of us!!

I think it was 3 miles later that I got a flat on the front wheel. No problem, Brett came back, everyone stopped and he had my tire ready to go in no time, telling me to relax and let him serve me (he said something about it being like washing my feet).

We were off again (after I went back and got my glasses that I left on the ground). Did I mention that it was snowing? Oh and just about now I started to notice something: The snow was not sticking to the roads, it was melting. The roads were warmer than the air, so the snow was hitting the warm road and melting. No problem though. I remember Nate saying “At least it is not cold and raining.” True.

We rode on, and got on a road that was very busy. Someone said that there was a sign that said “Bike Route”--I didn’t see it. But the there were a lot of cars. I stayed in back with my flashing taillight, Alex and I were the only ones with tail lights, and my Planet Bike Super Flash was by far brighter. It was snowing and overcast and the road was busy. Doug stayed in front because he can, and because he was having problems moving over with all of the traffic.

Finally we turned left to the roar of irritated traffic behind us. This was a road along a creek and it was the first time that I noticed that there were big puddles. Not just damp roads but wet roads with big puddles. No problem.

We rode on.

At this point we had been attacked by maybe two dogs. We climbed away from the creek on a narrow road with little traffic, but lots of dogs. It seems like we were chased two or three times on this road. The snow continued, the roads got wetter, and I am not sure but I think it was getting colder.

It was here that there was a climb, not crazy steep, but it left Nate and me at the back on the descent. Nate said “I think I have a flat.” We slowed to look and it looked to me like his front may be losing air, we slowed some more, and then he said “My back is definitely flat.” So I said “Ok, I will let the guys know.” I looked up to see them disappear around a bend in the road. When I could see them I whistled, I can whistle a lot louder than I can yell. When they weren’t stopping, I just figured they couldn’t hear me so I rode on, knowing that they would stop eventually. At this point I was in no-mans-land. Do I turn around and go back to help Nate? Or keep riding so that they at least know what is going on? After I got past another dog attack, I opted for continuing on. When I rode up at an intersection where they had stopped to wait and told them that Nate had a flat “way back there”, Alex informed me that it would have been a smaller problem for everyone if I just would have rode my bike faster—point taken.

We resolved to turn around, after a discussion of splitting up (bad idea). At least it was downhill back. We arrived at Nate with both wheels off and his bike lying in the ditch. Turns out that Nate had no tire irons, and his hands were too cold to pry the wheel off. It was about 10 minutes before we were ready to go. Did I mention it was snowing? I really didn’t realize how much until I saw Dan brush snow off of his saddle before he got on. I looked at mine and sure enough that was a nice covering of snow.

When we started back up, I was COLD. My fingers were so cold that I couldn’t feel them shift. I knew I shifted because it got harder or easier to pedal, but I could not feel it in my fingers. Nate commented that now it finally made sense how people could get frost bite. I told him it wasn’t cold enough to get frost bite, it was only 31 degrees—for the record I have no idea whether I was right, but it made sense, and I think he believed me.

We got back to the intersection where they had waited for me and I think I heard Dan say, as he was hunched over the Garmin, “12 more miles.” No problem. Freezing temperatures, snow, wet roads, ice caked on my bike, dogs—miles 34 to 45 were going to be easy.

The road spray. It was now that road spray started to become annoying. It was there before, but I didn’t really notice it. Now it became a real pain. I think that this realization coincided with the water in my shoes. My feet were completely soaked and I decided that this road spray had to have something to do with it. When I had to take my glasses off because of the ice that was caked to the lenses, I realized that it must have been getting colder. I vaguely heard Nate cursing the Red cassette that is machined from a single piece of metal and was caked full of ice, forcing him to ride in his small chainring and 28 cog in the back. He had a pretty high cadence. Nate reminded me that he was glad it wasn’t raining earlier, but now it was the road spray acted like rain and the snow kept coming.

Twelve miles. Had to be less than that now. I came to another intersection and heard Dan say “right turn.” I may have heard homestretch, or thought I heard it, or wished I heard it. Dan passed me. Chris passed me. Doug passed me. Alex passed me. This was becoming a trend. Back in no-mans-land, riding alone separated from the Alex in front and Brett encouraging Nate to keep fast pedaling behind. I came around a corner; it had to be less than 4 miles now. A downhill. Shift into the big chainring and…..wait, something’s not right. Hey why is that front derailleur hanging in my chain like that? I pulled over at a corner. Sure enough, it came off. Well, if I can just thread the bolt back on enough to hold it out of the way, I can ride the last less-than-4 miles. Try. Try again. Here comes Nate and Brett. In disbelief at my predicament Nate stopped; Brett kept going.

Nate is standing watching my futile efforts, while Brett is about 50 yards up the road having a conversation with some random person on the porch of his trailer. Brett rides up to us and says that it is only 1.5 miles to the vacant BP and that he really believes that this man who had given him this information would be more than happy to let all three of us come inside. I looked up at Brett and it all made sense: His eyes were sunk in his head, he was shivering, he was hypothermic, and he was completely serious.

I decided that the only way I was going to get back was to take the derailleur off. So I unscrewed the little screw at the back and loosened the cable bolt and it came right off. Wrapped the cable around my bottle cage and we were off.

I looked at a family on the porch of their trailer as we rode past. They stared as if to say: "These tourists get stupider every year."

As I rode, I noticed that something was rubbing against my front tire—the ice-covered front-derailleur cable was hanging under my down tube slapping against the tire. Wow! If that gets tangled in the my front wheel that will be a problem—it didn’t.

We arrived at the cars safely.

Now off to the cabin. Drive up the mountain road. Turn on the cabin road and stop. Turns out the road to the cabin is steep, and it had been snowing there too. Some 12 others had attempted to get to their cabin, and had slid off the road into the ditch, the road was closed and would be opened until Saturday some time.

So, we had a choice: Find a Laundromat and a hotel willing to accept 7 filthy bikes, or go home.

Over dinner, the group decided that home sounded pretty good. And we all jump in the cars and headed north on 75. Nate and I arrived at his house at 1:00 AM. Ten+ hours of driving, 3 hours of riding made for a full day.

I can’t speak for everyone, but I had a great time.

The Best and Worst Airlines for Cyclists!

Airlines generally allow a bike case that measures no more than 62 dimensional inches (length plus width plus height) and weighs less than 50 pounds to fly as regular checked baggage. Beyond that, you'll pay extra. All figures quoted are for one-way travel.

// THE BEST (aka. I heart cyclists) //

Frontier (more info.)

Weight/size limits: 99.9 pounds/109 linear inches

Cost: $50

Notes: All bicycles are transported by hand, from ticket counter to aircraft hold.

Southwest (more info.)

Weight/size limits: Any bag over 100 pounds must be shipped as cargo

Cost: $50

Notes: Without exorbitant fees, this airline has managed to turn a profit for 36 years straight.

JetBlue (more info.)

Weight/size limits: 99 pounds

Cost: $50 domestic, $80 international

Notes: Bikes are cheaper to fly than pets ($100)-but Fido earns you frequent flyer points.

// IN THE MIDDLE //

US Airways

Weight/size limits: 100 pounds

Cost: $100

Notes: Liability waiver required

Continental

Weight/size limits: 70 pounds

Cost: $100

Notes: no liability for soft-side cases

// THE WORST (boo-hiss) //

Delta (and its subsidiary, Northwest)

Weight/size limits: 100 lb

Cost: $175 domestic, $300 international

Notes: Need a laugh while you're weeping over this surcharge? Read the rules for checking Christmas trees.

United

Weight/size limits: 50 lb

Cost: $175 domestic and Central America, up to $250 international

Notes: Weight allowance all but rules out hard cases, which weigh 30-plus pounds on their own

American

Weight/size limits: 70lb/115 inches

Cost: $100

Notes: You also must pay the regular checked-bag fee ($20-$30).

Pack Smart

*Don't use the bike bag as your suitcase. Some carriers assess both oversize and overweight charges.

*Read your airline's policy carefully. United, for example, will not take packed bikes over 50 pounds, period. They also charge extra on flights to Japan and Brazil.

*We hesitate to say this, but with increasingly stringent dimensional and weight restrictions, hard-shell cases are looking like a poor idea. While their protection is superb, most weigh more than 30 pounds-empty. That said, some carriers require liability release forms for soft-side cases.

*Airlines don't accept liability for improperly packed items, so use pipe insulation on frame tubes. Remove quick releases and pedals, wrap separately, and get plastic axle guards from a bike shop. For mountain bikes, remove brake rotors. Remove your rear derailleur hanger if possible. Use axle blocks, especially with soft-side cases.

*CO2 cartridges are prohibited in all checked bags and carry-ons.

*Checked bag liability usually tops out at $3,300 for domestic flights. Damage must be proved. Check your homeowner's policy to see if it covers items damaged in travel.

*Finally, it's an urban myth that your tires will burst in the cargo hold-there's no need to deflate them.

This is what team is all about...

Mike More and Steve Brown hamming it up a climb!

Step into the way back machine...

Stumbled across Mr. Grim (from the Seattle office) back in the day.

Upcoming team camp & all things wet...

Today's weather prohibited my SECOND west side ride in the same year! So, in preparation for team training camp, I slogged my way through the rain solo. The temperature was a mild low 50 so that was the upside. I felt a modest sense of accomplishment which was eclipsed by Chip's text message flexing his over trained stats. Thank you Chip, as if the grit and grime from the road that permeated every niche wasn't enough, you had to utilize Verizon's text messaging capabilities to undermine my efforts...
Try again Chip, try again...

Hyde Park Blast Criterium 2010

This year's Hyde Park Blast Criterium is officially part of the USA Crit series! A huge thank you to our team mate Greg Tankersley for his hard work and dedication in making this a must do cycling event for 2010!

Happy Holiday to my team mates!

Gents,

Happy Holidays and here is looking forward to a great 2010 season!

Shannon Smith!

Shannon,

I will truly miss you.

2010 Spring Series Schedule

Hey fella's, courtesy of BigDaveSports, here's a tentative Spring Series schedule.

March 28th Germantown Road Race
Apri 3rd,, Saturday Michell Memorial Forest- BigDaveSports
April 11th, Hueston Woods Team Hungry
April 18th, Vandervoorts Corner Team Dayton
April 25th, Spring Valley, Project Velo
May 2nd, Georgetown Road Race, BigDaveSports
May 8th, Saturday (Open)
May 16th, Bond Rd. BigDaveSports
May 23 St Leon Biowheels/BigDaveSports

Gun Club CX

Alternate title: Boom Boom, Out Go the Lights.

Sunday morning was cold, crisp, and sunny as I trundled two tired legs out to the Sycamore/Pheasant Hill Gun Club for round 9 of the OVCX series. For the past several weeks locals have had the chance to hold Wednesday practices on this course, so I knew it would be tough, muddy, and technical. I like the course, but am painfully aware that it doesn't suit my strengths, such as they are. (This, to me, is the paradox of cyclocross: CX racers relish exposing and testing their weaknesses in a masochistic adrenaline rush.) I also knew that in a couple places I might benefit from the home-court advantage -- especially on the wicked up-across-and-down hillside cut. Finally, I had this pie-in-the-sky hope that the suffering I had done the previous day had opened my legs up, and that I'd feel strong and ready to go for this race.

Ha.

But I get ahead of myself. I lined up with the rest of the 35+ and 45+ cat 4 men; my OVCX series position got me a nice front-row callup, right next to Butch, who was itching to race after a couple weeks off. I think I saw flecks of saliva on his lips, and he may have barked once or twice. A man fired a shotgun, and we were off. I tuck in behind Butch and Scot Hermann, and we make our way through the "easy" wooded section: a straightaway, then a soft right bend up into the woods, a steady uphill on dirt, left and then right around some bushes, and then a gently curving 180 that better riders -- like Butch and Scot -- took at speed without touching their brakes. At this point I had let a small gap open up, and my legs were tight and sore already. Uh-oh.

A long straightaway back to the finish line, over the pavement and into the sand. By now I'm fourth or fifth wheel, but doing okay. Out of the sand, 180 degrees on the grassy hill, and then the off-camber 180 back around a small tree. I screwed this turn up every lap, but never more so than on the first lap, when I slid out, unclipped my downhill foot, and stumbled to get going again. By this time Butch and Scot are gone with a number of other riders. Down the hillside and sweep left through some mud to the first barrier and runup. Around and down to the right through the bushes and then up to the second time through the sand. It was here that I knew I didn't have it today: it was slightly uphill, and pretty churned up, but should have been rideable (and was for many). I got three-quarters of the way through and just kind of keeled over when I didn't have the power to finish it off (2nd lap: tried to ride again, but dismounted 3/4 of the way through; 3rd lap: "ran" it). Get up, run the rest, hop on, and head for the wooded gravel stretch.

Pick up a little speed there, but scrub it at the end for the left hander into the muck. Pedal pedal washout pedal washout through a couple of twists, and then the out-and-back along the fenceline. About 3/4 of the way coming back the ground turned to mush, dismount, shoulder the bike, and slog along the fence to the righthand uphill turn. Slog up, find the footholes of others for traction, use the fence to make a tight 180-degree turn, and remount before getting too far down the hill. Sweep right (watch the rut) and set up for the left-and-right swoop leading up to the cut in the hill.

Here's the one place where I made up some ground during this race: dismount before the hill, shoulder the bike, and run up, across, and down as tight on the inside as possible. Many riders tried to ride the uphill and washed out, others ran the uphill and struggled to remount while crossing the hill, which was virtually impossible unless you could remount from the right (uphill) side of the bike. Set the bike downhill, remount, and use momentum to curve in a big rightward sweep back into the woods.

And here, in the wooded section, is where I gave up spots all day: grind uphill, then left, right, and left over some loose dirt, mud, and gravel. Okay there. Painful, but okay. Back further into the woods for a gentle downhill to the left turn creekside. Okay there -- I actually worked that turn out with a left-foot-down-and-take-it-tight technique. Then loop toward the steep little kicker that had been rideable in practice, but was a runup (at least for me and those I saw) in Sunday's mud. Remount, and then take the downhill righthand bend tight into the section of the course that made me ride like a clumsy donkey: a slippery little uphill where I kept losing traction and actually dismounted once or twice, a mushy lefthander that I took very gingerly, another tight mushy lefthander that came out of nowhere and kept going left left left, until it came back right and down to solid ground.

On the third lap in this section I was passed by the two leaders in the 45+ category; I was tired; I was cranky and a little puzzled by how poopy I felt, and I was in a lactic haze. I lost traction in one of the mushy lefthanders, dismounted, and actually ran along behind those two guys through this section until we headed to the righthand downhill. Mind you, it was relatively level here -- tight and twisty, but far from a running section of the course. But I was so dismayed at my lame-o handling skills that I chose to jog until I found safer ground. Part of me also thought, hey, we're in the woods, so it's not like anyone can see us. And then, to my horror, I heard the clipped British accent of our announcer describing the very duel for the lead of the 45+ race going on right in front of me. I almost stopped and left the course in mortification as it dawned on me: if he can see them, he can see me; and if he can see us, everyone over on the hill can see us. I kept waiting for him to say something like "and as these two duel it out for the lead of their category, some Darkhorse chap has forgotten how to ride his bike and is trudging along on foot behind them. That's a puzzling tactic, and not one you normally see in a cyclocross race." After all, he had earlier pointed out that I had dismounted "a little early" before the double barriers, so I knew he wasn't afraid to offer, um, constructive criticism. Mercifully, he refrained from commenting on my hike through the woods, or at least I didn't hear him.

Anyway, after the diabolic wooded section came a little passage through some trees, the "horseshoe" with Tony on the drums, the double barriers and a gravel downhill to the start line. Each lap concluded with the same "easy" wooded section that kicked off the race. Three laps, barely hold off Sparky at the finish, and be happy with 7th.

And I am -- happy with 7th, that is. At least, I can talk myself into being happy with it, even though it was disappointing to push the accelerator and have no response both days this past weekend. Sunday was, by my count, my 28th race in 2009, and while I've had significant stretches of not racing (mid-July to mid-September), that's more than double the number of races I've ever done in one year, and triple what I did last year. The smart part of my brain tells me to shut it down, to increase race and training loads more gradually year-to-year, to rest, recharge, and begin building a base for a bigger season next year.

This other part of my brain, though, I can't seem to shut up. It's whispering to me: Lexington -- come on, just one more ...

[pictures from Jeffrey Jakucyk]

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?