gnat23
10-04-2009, 12:56 PM
Bay Area Super Prestige cyclocross race #1, held in McLaren Park in San Francisco.
Arrived at the race, as things were still being set up. Filled out the form, paid my $30, got my number. One woman asked me how the one day racing license worked, and I said I didn't know 'cause I got the whole season license. Turns out neither of us needed it. Grr. Oh well, I still am proud that I am a CARD-CARRYING bike racer now, even if it was $60 wasted for this series.
It was pretty chilly, maybe mid-50s, when I took my first practice lap. I vowed to take it easy and just get a feel of the course. Red tape on my right, white on the left, navigating my skinny tires through:
Lumpy dirt
Tree roots
Pure gravy mud (hurrrr!)
One sloppy steep run-up
Dusty loose dirt
Sand patches, with a turn in the middle
Steep downhill pitches
Gravel piles
180-degree turns
Long extended climbs
Two standard issue barriers
I arrived back at the loop start and whistled gravely. Talk about playing to my weaknesses, especially on my singlespeed bike! "This!" I declared proudly, "is going to suck!" Maybe two laps, I thought, but I am not going to back out now. Everyone else I thought was going to be here with me backed out. That just made me want to do it harder. I'm gunna do it, I'm here, I've seen it, it will hurt, I may come in dead-last, but I. Will. Finish.
Whistle. Go go go! The first several turns are a complete blur. I'm jockeying for position, up out of the saddle, seeing if I can't set some sort of starting gate record if there is such a thing. We hit the muddy section and everyone crawls to a halt - so much for practicing dismounts at speed. I throw the bike on my shoulder and start grappling up the hill, and I'm passing other women. I feel like yodeling from the mountaintops.
I hold my spot for the next several hundred meters. On the zig-zag downhill, I decided to dismount and run the bike around, proving to be much faster than those who timidly steered through the alley and rocks. "Hey, good idea!" I heard one say, as she unclipped. Back on the bike for a little singletrack, not too bad.
Then there was a steep upswoop, maybe two feet long, with a sharp left turn, followed by a long, long, uphill on pavement and then on rocky dirt: This was where I lost it. No matter what I tried, I could not get any momentum to ride this section, and I ended up running the entire freakin' thing. I was passed, passed, passed by women spinning in lower gears. I grumbled. Damn singlespeed. This was maybe a quarter of the course, this uphill, and I couldn't ride it. I quickly dropped to second-to-last place, in front of only one lone woman who looked like she had experienced technical issues in earlier sections. Huff huff huff.
Back on the bike, finally, for the downhill. Zippy, leaning into the turns, floating over the bumpy bits. Problem was: there was no chance to make up for the time and places I lost, so I accepted my fate and eventual placement. Ah well!
Additional laps revealed the following: I was unable to get up less and less as the race progressed. I did pass a few people on the uphills if we were both running, but if I was running and they were riding, they passed me with ease. At some point I couldn't clip in anymore, and precariously balanced my soles on the slippery pedals. I heard my name a couple times, but my vision was tunneled in front of me so hard that I had no idea who was cheering me on. I got lapped, of course, but I surprised myself to make three total laps.
The best part, and I mean the thing that inspired me to really hit the pedals hard, was hearing from the sidelines, about once or twice a lap: "Oooo! Singlespeed!" *vroom!*
And so it was not with a bang but with a sort of growling whimper that I crossed the final finish line, promptly wobbled off the course, coughed up a lung, started speaking in tongues, and chugged a chocolate milk.
Now I can't wait to do it again. :D
-- gnat! (don't ask me where I placed, I have NO idea!)
http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2430/3980748375_6622c821fe.jpg (http://www.flickr.com/photos/gnat23/3980748375/)
Arrived at the race, as things were still being set up. Filled out the form, paid my $30, got my number. One woman asked me how the one day racing license worked, and I said I didn't know 'cause I got the whole season license. Turns out neither of us needed it. Grr. Oh well, I still am proud that I am a CARD-CARRYING bike racer now, even if it was $60 wasted for this series.
It was pretty chilly, maybe mid-50s, when I took my first practice lap. I vowed to take it easy and just get a feel of the course. Red tape on my right, white on the left, navigating my skinny tires through:
Lumpy dirt
Tree roots
Pure gravy mud (hurrrr!)
One sloppy steep run-up
Dusty loose dirt
Sand patches, with a turn in the middle
Steep downhill pitches
Gravel piles
180-degree turns
Long extended climbs
Two standard issue barriers
I arrived back at the loop start and whistled gravely. Talk about playing to my weaknesses, especially on my singlespeed bike! "This!" I declared proudly, "is going to suck!" Maybe two laps, I thought, but I am not going to back out now. Everyone else I thought was going to be here with me backed out. That just made me want to do it harder. I'm gunna do it, I'm here, I've seen it, it will hurt, I may come in dead-last, but I. Will. Finish.
Whistle. Go go go! The first several turns are a complete blur. I'm jockeying for position, up out of the saddle, seeing if I can't set some sort of starting gate record if there is such a thing. We hit the muddy section and everyone crawls to a halt - so much for practicing dismounts at speed. I throw the bike on my shoulder and start grappling up the hill, and I'm passing other women. I feel like yodeling from the mountaintops.
I hold my spot for the next several hundred meters. On the zig-zag downhill, I decided to dismount and run the bike around, proving to be much faster than those who timidly steered through the alley and rocks. "Hey, good idea!" I heard one say, as she unclipped. Back on the bike for a little singletrack, not too bad.
Then there was a steep upswoop, maybe two feet long, with a sharp left turn, followed by a long, long, uphill on pavement and then on rocky dirt: This was where I lost it. No matter what I tried, I could not get any momentum to ride this section, and I ended up running the entire freakin' thing. I was passed, passed, passed by women spinning in lower gears. I grumbled. Damn singlespeed. This was maybe a quarter of the course, this uphill, and I couldn't ride it. I quickly dropped to second-to-last place, in front of only one lone woman who looked like she had experienced technical issues in earlier sections. Huff huff huff.
Back on the bike, finally, for the downhill. Zippy, leaning into the turns, floating over the bumpy bits. Problem was: there was no chance to make up for the time and places I lost, so I accepted my fate and eventual placement. Ah well!
Additional laps revealed the following: I was unable to get up less and less as the race progressed. I did pass a few people on the uphills if we were both running, but if I was running and they were riding, they passed me with ease. At some point I couldn't clip in anymore, and precariously balanced my soles on the slippery pedals. I heard my name a couple times, but my vision was tunneled in front of me so hard that I had no idea who was cheering me on. I got lapped, of course, but I surprised myself to make three total laps.
The best part, and I mean the thing that inspired me to really hit the pedals hard, was hearing from the sidelines, about once or twice a lap: "Oooo! Singlespeed!" *vroom!*
And so it was not with a bang but with a sort of growling whimper that I crossed the final finish line, promptly wobbled off the course, coughed up a lung, started speaking in tongues, and chugged a chocolate milk.
Now I can't wait to do it again. :D
-- gnat! (don't ask me where I placed, I have NO idea!)
http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2430/3980748375_6622c821fe.jpg (http://www.flickr.com/photos/gnat23/3980748375/)