I knew that cyclocross racers were a strange bunch of cyclists: the worse the conditions, the happier they seem to be about it. Rain and mud? Right on. Steep pitches and loose gravel? Bring it. Enough obstacles, chicanes, and hairpins to make you dizzy by the finish? Darn tootin'. The first Bay Area Super Prestige race at Merritt College in Oakland had all of these things, so you'd think everyone would be thrilled to hit the dirt.

But lo, the understatement of the day was that the course was "darn rocky." Upon a scraped-off mountain top, the singletrack's main feature was sharp silica and granite jutting up like weeds. These sorts of rocks do not care how much you spent on your tires, how long you agonized about your air pressure, or the fact that this was your skinsuit's debut race. The rocks cut and slashed without prejudice, only the mountain bikes getting away with statistically less damage. The neutral support tent was stripped of spare wheels and tubes by 10:30am, a $12,000 graveyard made of carbon and rubber lay just beside it.

I was probably tempting fate in my brand new skinsuit, carbon bike, and glue-still-warm tubular tires. For some reason, I didn't think it was that bad, pumped up my best wheels to 25psi, and did a two lap warmup. This was my first experience on the tubulars in the dirt, and I was thrilled with how my new setup was holding on tight fast corners. My months of training with high intensity was helping my heart from pickaxing its way out of my throat as it did last year. I finally had my pre-race nutrition dialed in so I would neither bonk nor puke. My confidence was at an all-time high and I couldn't wait to hit the starting line. My goal was to have the best first lap possible.

I botched the start by allowing myself to get squeezed behind a slower rider, then getting cut-off by an overzealous junior who wouldn't hold his line. I picked up a few places right after the barriers by continuing to run past all the folks fumbling their remounts on the uphill, as if I'd learned a thing or two about strategy or something. There was a pot-holed gravelfest which swooped up a short steep pitch, littered with people who didn't have enough speed going into it. Next, a heart-stopping rutted downturn followed by wooded singletrack. Then, pick up your bike and scramble up loose rocks, more singletrack, and a few hairpin turns. A couple of good passing spots, if you could wiggle on the inside of a sharp turn without skidding out. Another steep down (eeee!), a 180, and then dismount and run back up the same thing. A huge dirt pit that masqueraded as sand swallowed rims and annihilated momentum -- we later discovered that it was faster to get off the bike and run than to try and pedal the turns on a bad line. A rather sketchy S-turn was the last maneuver before the straight sprint on gravel back to the lap line.

While no longer with the front pack, I amused myself chasing the butts of women and juniors in my line of sight, picking them off one by one. I felt unusually stealthy, quiet, predator-like, so I made sure to say something stupid as I passed to clear the tension. Every once in a while, I'd find myself in a great full-throttle one-on-one drag race, only to hear the tell-tale tire pop or chain disengagement as their colors disappeared behind me. Strange, I didn't think my mental powers had gotten that good, you know? Maybe next time I'll try to think about them spontaneously bursting into flame.

At some point, maybe due to the sheer amount of cussing I was hearing, it hit me that a lot of people were flatting out. I no longer had any idea of where I was in the standings, as I no longer recognized the chasers or chasees. Tires were being chewed up and chains bouncing off by sheer bad luck. I started to get nervous, tried to will myself ten pounds lighter, weaved around more nasty looking boulders and potholes. The sprint for the finish with a big grin was fun, even though there was no one around me. Done with a 10th place finish! Now, where's my chocolate milk and beer? I was greeted instead by fellow Velogirl Cristina who had come to cheer me; that was just as nice!

The later races were treated to light rain, tons of fishtail-esque crashes, and even more flats. Here's hoping for a nice race with more grass next time!


More pics here!

-- gnat!