SuperPro kit unveiling (photo by Nick Gaetano)
Boggs! 2011 was my inaugural trip to what has become a not-to-be-missed event for NorCal mountain bike masochists enthusiasts. Last year’s wet weather forced racers onto a truncated course that prompted many (including me and my two relay teammates) to stop racing after a few laps and just enjoy the festivities that the forest had to offer. 2012 was sure to be different, with Bike Monkey pushing the event back a month to help thwart mother nature’s attempt to protect the needly single track from us two-wheeled locusts. It worked! The trails were in mint condition and race day weather was pristine.
I went into this race better prepared than usual. Boggs was my primary (bike) goal for the season, but it would also be my first endurance mountain bike race, so I wasn’t sure exactly what to expect. The good news was I’d been riding pretty consistently, was healthy and well-rested. I even tested some food options in the weeks preceding the race, including homemade energy bars, to make sure my stomach wouldn’t be what kept me down on race day. As a bonus, our brand new kits arrived and were even better than expected! Perhaps my only rookie move was opting to ride a new bike that I just finished building up days before the race. But how could I resist?
test ride
I got a good starting position and went pretty hard at the 8am gun. My opening lap turned out to be my fastest of the day at 45 mins. It hurt, but the adrenaline was going and I was happy not to be too caught up in the conga line madness. Plus there were plenty of people surging ahead, so what could possibly go wrong? I settled into a more sustainable pace for laps 2-3, churning out nearly identical 48 minute laps and feeling pretty good. I had set up my aid station along with a few teammates on the backside of the course, away from the chaos of the start/finish area, and starting with lap 2 I made sure to stop briefly on every lap to swap bottles and keep my pockets full of food. The Zeitgeist crew was nearby, offering encouragement in the form of bacon, whiskey shots and bumpin beastie boys tunes. It wasn’t hot, but I was still wary of cramping, so I forced myself to drink a bottle with electrolytes every lap. The vibe on course was great – it was easy to pass and be passed, and everyone seemed to have a smile.
On lap 4 fatigue set in, and I felt hungry – not a good sign. I forced down more food on the fire road climbs, but it was too late – I was suffering a mini-bonk, and lap 5 was a full 10 minutes slower than lap 1. I stopped for a few minutes at my aid station and checked my blood sugar (the joys of diabetic bike racing!)…paused to eat again, and started to recover. I decided it was better to keep riding slowly and try to recover on the bike than to stop and wait to feel good again, but laps 6-7 were definitely turned down a notch. On the plus side, the course was starting to feel familiar, and I was swooping through the technical bits with ease.
I found my rhythm again on lap 8, and started to feel motivated about the possibility of turning in 10 laps. But the course that had started to feel familiar now became a blur, and I was finding each turn through the singletrack to be a surprise. My reaction time was slowing, and so was my pedaling. The simple calculations required to figure out if I would be able to complete 9 or 10 laps before the cut-off were mind-boggling hard, so I stopped worrying and focused on keeping the bike upright. Sure enough, my 9th and final lap was by far my slowest of the day, and I hit the finish line with just over 40 minutes before the 4:45pm cut-off. I knew a 10th lap was out of the question, but was happy to finish with 70+ miles. During the eight-hour race, I managed to keep my stopped time under 15 minutes.
tired enough to eat out of a dog bowl (photo by May Woo)
After a makeshift shower provided by Action Wipes, the world came back into focus. As is tradition, the SuperPro camp was rowdy and oversupplied with food and beer. Amidst the story swapping around a big fire, a dance party in the woods broke out. Can’t wait to return to this pine needle paradise next year!
1. Name:
Jordan Faulds
2. What do you do for a living?
Soon-to-be-lawyer (hopefully)
3. What category or categories do you race in? How long have you been racing?
Since this is my first year at everything, I’ll be racing women’s Cs in cyclocross and may do some beginner mountain bike races.
4. What’s your best bike accomplishment, or the one you’re most proud of?
It’s not much of an accomplishment, but I competed in my first ever bike race this month: Boggs! Given that I’d only ridden a mountain bike 4 times before racing and was sharing a course with roughly 800 riders who were A LOT better than me, I think I did okay. I didn’t cry once!
5. What should people yell at you to make you go faster?
I’m not sure yet, so try some stuff out and see!
6. What’s your favorite post-race beverage?
I’ll slam a protein drink, but then I’ll follow it up with my real favorite: Mama’s Little Yella Pils.
7. What else should your fans know about you?
I’m vegan, so make those bacon handups tempeh.
Helmet Safety Report
Last week I had a nasty fall in Fruita and broke my eye socket. Fortunately I’ve been recovering well and the latest good news is that I don’t need to get surgery. After my accident, I had some down time in the hotel while everyone else was riding, so I made a report of the whole event.
But first, please review this handy info from CPSC - My injury might have been prevented if my helmet had not looked like the WRONG picture!
Fruita Road Trip Report
Last weekend was the 6th annual 18 hours of Fruita MTB race. While I would have loved to participate, instead I got the opportunity to come to the Fruita Fat Tire Festival with SUPERPRO the weekend before. Not wanting to miss out on the all day/all night action, I had my very own personal 24 HOURS OF FRUITA instead.
Saturday April 28
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Saturday’s official festival agenda. My favorite part is the rides item – its only one line, there is no fancy text font, but it’s what everyone came here for!
After a long drive up Thursday and a full day of riding on Friday, Saturday afternoon found us on the trail again under a sunny sky with just enough clouds for occasional shade. Our Bay Area crew was joined by local guides Cimarron and Paul, and our friend Dayton from back home who’s out in Utah for school.
On Friday I had borrowed a full suspension bike for the day, which was a real treat for me since I’m used to riding a rigid frame. There’s lots of rocky, technical terrain out here and the plush ride allowed me to enjoy the scenery more and worry less about dodging every last pebble. But back in SF, the terrain I usually ride is a lot more forgiving. So on Saturday, I jumped at the chance to demo this sweet carbon 29er hardtail from Marin Bikes:
MARIN BIKES | Mountain HT | 29er | Team CXR 29er
Source: marinbikes.com Learn about the Team CXR 29er and view bicycle photos, component specifications and geometry specs.
Saturday’s ride took us to Kokopelli’s trail along the Colorado river. The trail runs through Fruita all the way to Moab, tracing along the contours of the river gorge. Needless to say, the views are stunning.
Dayton riding the unrideable stairs on the way to Horsethief
Towards the end of the afternoon, we did a couple laps of the Horsethief loop, at times a rocky, technical trail about 4 miles long and a few hundred feet of climbing. Doing the loop twice was an incredible learning experience for me. I had never ridden a hardtail before, and the carbon Marin just flew! I was learning how to pop up larger and steeper obstacles on climbs than ever before. I’d see a wall coming, point the bike at it, and up we went. The light weight also helped on the descents, since I could hop and bounce over things and still feel in control. I even dropped off some ledges, and even though I’m not very skilled at shifting my weight for a drop, I managed to ride most of them out. One time I went too slowly and tipped over but was able to catch myself with my foot.
I felt a little guilty for leaving my old singlespeed behind for this trip, so on the second lap I tried to pick one gear and stick to it just for fun. It turns out that Horsethief is a great loop for SS, a series of short climbs and longer descents. After that lap I was sold on the singlespeed-able version of the CXR. It’s available as a frame only, Lynskey Ti with sliding dropouts, with the same geometry as the bike I demo’ed. As a new MTB racer, that frame is WAY above my level. It’s a good opportunity for me though, since I like the parts on my current bike, but the frame doesn’t fit me well and a rigid fork just doesn’t seem practical for the type of riding I want to do.
After the day’s ride we headed to Hot Tomato in town for pizzas, and I tried a local mole beer.
That night Murphy ran the Goldsprints competition at the bar. What with all the setting up and tearing down of equipment, there was plenty of time to drink a LOT of beer, so that’s what I did.
Sunday morning we all got up early and hustled onto the bus to shuttle the Ribbon trail, and Paul drove the bus up to the trailhead for us. On the drive up, he pointed out the trail from across a canyon. I thought it looked like one of those martini glasses with a twisty stem. Except the top part of the glass was several hundred ft descent of a massive slickrock slab, and the twisty part was a narrower section of rock with huge cliffs dropping off on either side.
It was cold and windy at the trailhead so we pulled on our warmest gear and set off down the trail. I had returned the demo bike the night before, so I was back on the loaner full suspension bike. From what everyone had said about the trail, it seemed to be the right tool for the job.
As we set off down the initial dirt section of the trail towards the martini glass, I was feeling better than ever. I had learned so much the day before on the hardtail, that being back on the full suspension bike filled me with confidence. I hopped up a few ledges as we reached the beginning of the slickrock, feeling quite pleased with myself.
Everyone stopped at the top of the martini glass and I pumped up my tires. The panoramic view was incredible. Once I finished, we started down the wide slab of rock like a flying V of migrating geese.
We reached the stem of the glass and regrouped. Here’s where the fun part starts! That narrow twisty ribbon of rock was just waiting for us, and we started rolling down it one by one. At the start of the ribbon there were two lines, one to the left which was pretty narrow and twisty but steadily down. To the right was a wide ledge dropping down a couple of feet. Naturally, I headed straight for the ledge at low speed and did a header into the rocky trail.
Now is where things get a little fuzzy, but I do remember most of it. I was briefly knocked out but came to right away to the sound of teammates rushing over to help. Sound is all I remember because my right eye had smacked the rocks, broken my glasses, and was swelling up like a clementine. My left eye was uninjured, but I couldn’t open it.
Everyone quickly realized I could no longer ride and would have to walk half a mile or so back up to the trailhead. Cimarron was on her way there to pick me up and take me to the ER. But I wasn’t moving. A local passing by saw the situation and called us an ambulance. They ALMOST beat Cimarron there. He was even going to call SAR to help me back to the trailhead, but finally I was up and moving.
At this point I still couldn’t open either eye and wasn’t much use carrying anything, so Zach sprinted up to meet the ambulance, and Chris K and Jason each pushed a couple bikes back up to the trailhead. That left Dayton to guide my blind self up the trail. Besides being blind my breathing was rather labored, and I wasn’t much help walking. I leaned on Dayton and we slowly worked our way up the slickrock, with him calling out the obstacles for me to step over.
The two of us made it to the top of the slickrock, and by that point I was moving more slowly and asking to take a lot of breaks. I think the EMT later said something about emesis times 5. Fortunately, that’s where Chris K met us again after returning from the trailhead, so we had two people to help me down those rocky ledges I had cruised up so easily just minutes before. The final few hundred yards to the trailhead I was moving my feet, but Chris and Dayton had most of my weight on their shoulders.
Cimarron and the ambulance were there to meet us and I sat right down on the stretcher. Before long I was strapped in every which way and Zach was riding with me in the ambulance to the hospital in Grand Junction (fortunately close by and supposed to be the best in CO outside Denver).
The rest of the day was spent in a flurry of drugs, scans, stitches, and eating soup back on the bus. At the end of my 24 hour event I was sad to learn I had broken my eye socket in two places, but quite excited to receive a variety of scans and x-rays on a DVD. Since I could no longer ride the trails for the last day of the trip in Moab, I got to play with them all day on the hotel computer.
What lessons have I learned from all of this? Wear a properly adjusted helmet. Don’t get overconfident, or ride beyond your skill level. Don’t slow down when you’re going off a ledge. But when you do, bring along some friends to bail you out.
1. Name:
Jason Ferrier
2. What do you do for a living?
Developer – web stuff. Currently working with Transit & Trails which compliments my lifestyle.
3. What category or categories do you race in? How long have you been racing?
I started racing mountain back in college about 7 years ago in rocky Pennsylvania.
4. What’s your best bike accomplishment, or the one you’re most proud of?
Taking the podium for all but one race in the 2011-2012 cyclocross season and winning the NorCal vs SoCal California State Cyclocross Championships.
Photo from Jeff Namba on Flickr
5. What should people yell at you to make you go faster?
My daughter’s bike is more pink than yours!
6. What’s your favorite post-race beverage?
If I am doing it “right”, I just want to sit down and not move for at least 15 minutes to keep myself from puking. Then after drinking some water, I’ll have a nice cold beer.
7. What else should your fans know about you?
I’m now a vegan.
I’ve had a tradition of getting sick in mid-April the last two years, causing me to miss the Napa Valley Dirt Classic. This year appeared ready to follow the trend, with a cruddy cold coming on after my CCCX race the prior weekend, causing me to take 5 days off the bike. Saturday I got out for a very short spin, and decided to go ahead and try to race.
Riders are already several rows deep when I arrive at the start, so I take the ballsy route and stroll in from the front, slotting myself in the middle next to Shilo. I’m feeling relaxed and enjoy chatting with him in the sun.
The official is making the mistake of giving a countdown for the start, so I know riders are going to jump the gun. Yep. I feel surprisingly good on the sprint up the road, reaching the singletrack in second place. The holeshot rider hesitates, so 5 seconds later I pass him. No one tries to pass me, and soon the sounds of other riders are receding into the distance. It’s the kind of start you dream about: you’re not going too hard, but all the competition is just falling away. Pretty soon I’m passing the singlespeed stragglers who started with the pros, a few minutes ahead of my group. I try to put as many riders between me and my pursuers as possible before we reach the singletrack.
Here come the whoop-de-doos! I quickly pass two more stragglers and plunge into the first giant pit. I manage OK line choices and emerge from the third pit without incident. Being alone and on unfamiliar trails I ride the singletrack slowly, especially when there are water crossings that may contain unseen hazards. Wet leaf litter makes some of the corners slow, but the trails are fun.
After starting the big descent I realize I passed some arrows that may have been pointing to the side. I keep riding, looking for more arrows and getting increasingly worried. I finally reach some course marshals, and see they are on a different section of the course. Nooooo! I backtrack and find the turn I missed. It’s very well marked– who knows why I didn’t see it. I catch up with Cesar Chavez, who I had passed earlier, and he confirms that no one passed me while I was sight-seeing in the woods. Looking at my GPS track after the race, I lost almost a minute on this detour.
Riding alone, I haven’t been staying very focused, and a mixture of tactical caution and general pansy-ness has made for slow descending. I hear sounds behind me as we approach the low point of the course, and sure enough, two riders pass me right before the big climb. They’re descending well, sliding sideways into the big ruts and bouncing back out again. Fortunately I stay with them, and quickly drop them again as we begin the steep climbs. I’ve also passed a good portion of the Pro field at this point, and set to work trying to pick off as many more as possible.
I had worried that my 2×10 gearing would be too tall for the nasty steep pitches, but the hills don’t feel so bad this year, and it ends up being perfect. Near the top I look down to see Shilo climbing fast, which makes me a little worried. I stay on the gas across the flats, rolling in uncontested for first place in Cat 1.
Hopefully next year I’ll be allowed to ride in the Pro category and mix it up with the fast guys. Maybe I’ll even manage to follow the course markings.
A steady drizzle falls as one hundred and forty riders gather under the gracious roof of Advanced Autowerks in San Francisco for Murphy Mack’s first Spring Classic. Barry Wicks (winner of last year’s BC Bike Race and Trans Rockies) is the obvious rider to watch. Fortunately he’s pretty easy to pick out, being about two feet taller than everyone else. I also see Roger Bartels (AKA The Godfather, AKA Ramjet), but have no idea what other heavy talent might be in the field.
Once we roll out, I settle in near the front and accept the fact that I’m going to be sucking cold gritty road sludge for most of the day. After interminable meandering through the suburbs of South City and San Bruno, we finally hit the gate at the base of Sweeney Ridge. No more cars! We climb this defunct road at a moderate pace, enjoying nice views of SFO and San Andreas Lake before ascending into the clouds. In the mists at the top we turn left onto sodden dirt and begin a raucous descent down slimy switchbacks. I’ve ridden my road bike on the dirt before, but I’ve never done this much foot-out two-wheel sliding. Yeehaw! We all arrive at the bottom with grins on our faces and don’t mind the suburban meandering that follows.
The next noteworthy segment is Planet of the Apes, which I’d never ridden, in spite of living nearby. It’s rad! More defunct road, this time with broken pavement interspersed with dirt on the descent. I’ve recently switched my road bike to Stan’s Alpha 340 wheels with 25mm Hutchinson tubeless tires, and so far I’m really happy with this setup. I’m running the tires at 90 PSI, and they feel supple and grippy over the chunky rocky bits. Further down we get to rail some sweeping gravel turns and bomb a slightly muddy dirt road out to Highway One.
We arrive at the first aid station just as it is opening for business. I devour several bananas and boiled potatoes, refill my bottles, water the bushes, and we are back on Route One again. More cold wind, more rain, more sucking of road sludge.
Stage road is a nice relief from the constant traffic of Highway One, and while I’m not feeling great on the climbs, no one is pushing the pace yet, and we are still rolling along in a fairly large group. At the Pescadero aid station I repeat my bananas/potatoes/water/piss routine and we roll on through town.
It has all been party hats and balloon animals up to this point, but it’s clear that the real ride is about to start. Sure enough, as soon as we clamber over the gate at the base of the Butano Fire Trail, the leaders set a mean tempo and we are fighting for traction in the mud and wet grass. I stuff my front wheel in the ditch of a water bar and do a small endo onto my hands. As I’m unclipping my left calf cramps. Back on the bike, I’m close to my limit and still losing ground. Ah yes, it is starting to hurt.
Should I dig myself into a hole trying to hang on, or give up and ride my own pace? We are on Wicks’ home turf now, so his wheel is golden, at least for as long as he wants company. The decision is being made for me: I am getting spit out of the lead group, which is down to seven riders at this point. And then: mercy. The grade eases off a little bit, the pace slackens a tad, and I am able to latch back on. The road is empty behind us.
After this brief respite, it is back into the pain box. The grade steepens, and we roll through more soft, sucking dirt. The feeling of climbing through this mud is hard to describe. You know when the aliens strap you down on the table and start draining the fluid out of your spine? That kind of feeling.
Wicks and Erik Tonkin keep drilling the pace at the front, and pretty soon the lead group has shattered. I go back and forth a few times with Roger as we are turning ourselves inside-out trying to hang on. And then mercy once more: Wicks and Tonkin are waiting at the airstrip, and pretty soon Roger and Patrick Means catch up. We stand around in the pissing rain commenting on how nutty it would be to land here, then plunge back into the forest. More soft dirt, more water, more agony.
Once again Wicks and Tonkin are waiting at the upper gate, and again Patrick and Roger join us shortly. Wicknasty, the consumate gentleman, leaves a full coke and some energy bloks for later riders who are sure to be hurting. After more dirt, we are ecstatic to finally reach solid pavement.
At Hwy 236 Roger realizes his front brake pads are gone. The descent to Big Basin headquarters is normally a joyful swoop-fest, but today it is frigid misery. The thermometer on my Garmin reads 44°F, all my clothing has soaked through, and more and more parts of me are going numb. The stock pads on my rear brake are barely working, and even the Kool-Stop salmon pads in front are marginal, but at least I still have pad left. We roll numbly through Big Basin, and then shortly before the last aid station run into a large group that has accidentally cut the course by descending China Grade. I don’t really want coffee, but it is hot and I’m shivering violently. I also down a Coke and we set off towards Jamison Creek, now in a big group.
I’m not feeling well at all, but I grind up the climb. Wicks and the other leaders are waiting at the top again. I have almost nothing left, and crawl slowly up the rollers on Empire Grade. The group has come apart again: Barry has fallen back to help those in need, and I find myself at the front with Erik and Patrick. Near the top of the last roller both my quads seize up in massive cramps. I’m in my granny ring, and barely manage to hold the wheel in front of me.
With the climbing done I’m able to regain a little composure, and the rain even lets up enough to give us a glimpse of Monterey Bay. We’re on roads I know again, but I miss the turn on Western, so we descend Bay Street and back-track to Natural Bridges. Three more quick turns, and then Ibis at last. The cavernous warehouse is a cyclist’s Valhalla of warmth, feasting and camaraderie. I stand at the door with my mouth hanging open.
The three of us are surprised to hear that we’re the first riders to complete the long course. “Winners!” someone says, but this is silly considering how many times Wicks and Tonkin could have dropped all of us, and the general spirit of cooperation during the ride. A true pleasure riding with you guys.
Recently, the boys with whom I consort tipped me off to Rand Miller’s blog, where he takes pot shots at himself and recently found himself a ‘cross nemesis in Derek Yarra, my bicycle-mechanic-boyfriend (not my boyfriend, but I consider us in a relationship wherein I give him money and he makes my bike super-pro-awesome). Rand posited that every rider needs a nemesis:
“The key to a good nemesis is to find someone who is beatable — though not without significant dedication to the art — someone who is charismatic, someone who strongly wants to beat you as well, and someone who does things to encourage humorous blog posts.”
These technology savvy gentleman were all using these new fangled social media things to tweet or re-tweet or tumble or whatever about this most excellent rivalry. I recently discovered how to use the internet (see: my tumblr) and I’m excited to share with you, internet readers and stalkers, the first women’s Category B Bay Area Cyclocross FrieNemesis (Friend/ Nemesis) Rivalry of 2011, me and Sam Bell, while also regaling you with tales of races long past and one not so long past.
The race at Coyote Point last Sunday was our last BASP race of the season, and the last one I’ll see for a while- traveling is going to get in the way of some of the super ‘cross fun that’s upcoming here in the Moonie traveling circus for me. Our women’s Cat B category was filled with lovely Moonie ladies, as always- Carol, Nancy, L.C., May, first-B-race ever Patty, me and my FrieNemesis, Sam Bell. Sam and I first sized each other up at Sierra Point- my first decent race of the season and her first re-entry after a wild summer of men and substance abuse.* I recognized her as a teammate by her Moonie kit; she checked me out, me just blabbing away at the start line, and wouldn’t give me the time of day in the line-up. I had maybe my best race of the season at Sierra Point, coming in a notable 10th in the Women’s B category (I know, it’s hard to not to brag here), and she came in slightly behind me.
I know, I'm kind of a Big Deal.
At Golden Gate Park then, Sam knew me to be the FrieNemesis that we had become. I stole one of her hand up beers on our 3rd lap at the steps section; she passed me but promptly dropped her chain, and came in again behind me. Not soon after, Sam became internet-famous and cyclocross-notorious with a call out from RYAN TREBON HIMSELF for this despicable display of sportsmanship and feminine wiles, truly showing me how it is done. Stevil Kenievil himself put dollars in her ass, ruining the race for everyone via ass-dollary. She would later come to a birthday party of mine and take off her pants (in fairness, mine were already off).
So knowing that this weekend would be my last opportunity to solidify my status as Alpha Bitch in our FrieNemesis relationship, I got good and drunk the night before, sending emails and texts at 2:41 a.m.** Despite the impressive vintage, the wine wasn’t sitting particularly well as the Moonie Lady Bicyclist Gang did a warm-up lap together, and it was sitting less well somewhere around the call up. I knew I would have to pull from my deepest depths of athleticism to not puke on the usual suspects being called ahead of me. I was in the first row of the B ladies, with Sam somewhere behind me.
A lot of very awesome ladies, and one assclown.
I am notoriously horrible at starting, so I can’t even remember where those ladies who ended up winning went to (including teammate Carol, who has been CRUSHING BITCHES all season) but I do remember seeing L.C. somewhere ahead of me with Sam just on my left.
The May Woo Factor is real.
May yelled at me all the way around the upper hill pavement area to go quicker until she passed me on the technical stuff in the hills, with Sam right on my ass. I finally passed May on the sand run- and I could hear Sam right behind me.
Last time seen smiling in this race.
At this point, my unfortunate life choices started catching up to me and I wiped out twice on two small inclines in the south part of the course- and Sam passed me. Nooooooooooooo! I spent the next two laps riding her wheel- she’s better on the cement flats, I’m better on the dirt hill climbs- and we’d holler at each other at the turnbacks. We had some company along the way- a couple Roaring Mouse ladies, two other women I’ve seen a few times before- but mostly it was me and the pink bubble print.
At the beginning of the fourth lap, Sam really started pulling ahead of me- I only once almost had her wheel at the long climb section, but after that, I knew this battle went to her.
You win this round, FrieNemesis.
On the other hand, she declined the dollar-in-the-sand grab and the beer held out by Sasha, both of which I willingly took seconds after she’d passed them by. Hair of the dog, friends!
In summary, our FrieNemesis relationship is constantly evolving, and my general take away points from this race and the season with Sam and teammates are:
• If you are going to race your FrieNemesis, and you are going to get drunk the night before, make sure they are getting drunk with you.
• If you are going to lose to your FrieNemesis, take a dollar and have a beer.
My last shots to Ms. Sam Bell are: next year, I will “train” by using my bicycle on days that do not have races, I will moderate my alcohol consumption on Saturday nights, and let’s go out dancing next week, okay? You’re really fun.
Hellooooooooo ladies!!
*I am guessing here.
** Don’t worry Mom, the alcohol was top notch as I was at a very exclusive gala ball.
(Seems like this team blog here’s become uncomfortably close to Sasha’s Race Reports. We’ll have to see what we can do to remedy that, but in the meantime: )
This was supposed to be a double weekend for me, with the first (of only two, alas) race in Santa Rosa on Saturday. Unfortunately, I came down sick on Friday and decided not to race until Sunday. So instead of racing, I spent all day drinking herbal tea and lazing around the house, not even changing out of pajamas.
Sunday, I rode to the race (gotta love it!), kitted up and did a preride. The course was very similar to what we’ve ridden in years past (and that we practice on many wednesdays through the season). A couple oddly placed barriers (all hoppable, were I capable) and some mud, but otherwise a course I’ve ridden fifty or a hundred times this year in practice. Unfortunately, as I did my preride, I realized the sole of my shoes was separating from the upper. I considered duct taping them together, but instead borrowed a pair a half-size big from Xton.
I had a mediocre warmup, but ended up feeling ok. Because I assumed they were doing callups, I casually wandered to the line a little late, and kind of pushed in at the front. Turns out they weren’t actually doing them this week, but almost all the top riders from last race were up at the front anyway. I was third into the first bottleneck and pretty quickly jumped up to second behind mountain bike Moonie Zach. Because I’ve been sick, I was planning on metering my effort, so I was content to sit second wheel without trying to jump in front. At some point on the first lap, the guy who’d won the last two races in the series tried to pass me over a barrier, but somehow managed to stack and fall. That same guy came back a lap later, though, and jumped past everybody to take the lead. I was, at this point, riding ok. I still didn’t feel great, but better than I expected. The one real issue I was having was remounting. My borrowed shoes had a different cleat position, and the cleats were worn enough that I was having a terrible time clipping back in. At one point I missed the clip-in so completely I almost crashed, and at another my foot popped out of the pedal at the crux of the sharp uphill in the picture below, and I had to dismount.
I realized sitting third wheel that I was getting gapped from the leader, so I got past the guy in second, and tried to keep him in sight. Over the next couple laps, he slowly pulled away as the two guys behind me caught up, and as we started the bell lap, I had two other riders on my tail and the leader was out of sight. My job was clearly cut out for me–hold these two guys off for a lap.
Unfortunately, knowing what I had to do was not the same as doing it, and as we approached the second barrier in the lap one of them got briefly by me. I was able to get back in front with a good clip-in (for once), but my time was clearly limited. They eventually got by me on the paved downhill, and we went into the last section (sharp uphill followed by an uphill barrier, then sharp tun into the paved finish line) still a group of three, but with me at the end.
We caught lapped traffic right at the sharp uphill, and the guy right in front of me ended up dragging his bike up the top of the climb and along to the barrier. Unfortunately, he ran fast enough and took enough of the course up there that I couldn’t get by. After the barrier, his remount was better (of course), and although I made up ground, I still lost by a bike length.
Considering that the day before I wasn’t sure I was going to race, 4th place seems ok, but to drop 2 places on the last lap is pretty disappointing. After the race I settled in for some serious beer drinking and heckling. Golden Gate Park always seems to bring out the worst (or is it the best?) in the hecklers, and this year was no exception.
Finally, perhaps they or other teammates may deign to share their experiences, but other Moonie podium people included Patty, 3rd in women’s C, Scott, 2nd in Singlespeed B, and the mighty Krishna, 4th in Elite Men.
Marko and I decided at the last minute we were gonna hit the Toro Park CCCX race on Saturday. I’ve raced mountain bikes there a few years ago, but I’ve never done a cross race there. We made the best of the long drive down, by doing some work for a political campaign we’re involved in, and arrived at the venue with a sense of things already accomplished.
We were pleased to see Slonie just registering as we got there, which meant three Moonies in the house. Of course, we were all three racing in the Bs–Slonie in the young-guy-Bs, Marko and I in the 35+. Because of the Bay Area Super Prestige race in SF the next day, the turnout for Toro Park was pretty light. There were roughly 15 guys in each B category. The course was pretty great: a steep paved climb at the start, followed by a long section of swooping downhill singletrack, which widened into a fire road before diving through a gully and turning back uphill along the side of some picnic tables. From there, there were two sections of chicanes (the second with barriers), linked together with a longish false flat paved section. Finally, there was a slightly uphill dirt bit back to the finish line. Just about the only way the course could have suited me better would be to add a nice long run. As it was, though, I looked forward to a good day.
In the past, I’ve always looked forward to uphill starts. I climb well, and having a climb at the beginning allows me to get a good start. This race was an exception, to be sure. I was boxed in, and couldn’t seem to get enough of a lane to really get going. Instead of the front, I hit the singletrack in something like 7th. Worse, I bobbled the first corner and got gapped by the guy ahead of me. Suddenly I was 10 meters behind the front group, and unable to catch them. I’ve ridden quite a bit of singetrack in my time, but I’d suddenly lost any skill I thought I had. I didn’t crash, or run too far off the trail, but I was never in control. I was flailing around like I’d never ridden on dirt before,
Mercifully, we hit the bottom of the trail, and I caught onto the back of the group as they braked to hit the gully. As we turned back up the grass next to the picnic areas, my pre-ride priorities proved out once again. I make a point, when preriding, to test out passing lines–just cause there’s a clearly burned in line, does not mean that riding off that line is impossible, or even slower, necessarily. It was clear that there were alternate lines for almost every part of the course, and at this point I started to maker use of them. I grabbed a couple places before we hit the false flat, and there I jumped into third, slotting in on the wheel of the guy ahead. As we passed the start/finish, I continued my advance by getting by second, and iced the cake by pulling into the lead up the hill. Suddenly, I was hitting the singletrack that I’d had such trouble with. This time, I was able to take it smoothly, and to my surprise even lengthened my lead a little.
(Photo by Steven Woo)
For the next two laps I stretched my lead out to something like 20 seconds. With a long course and small fields traffic was not that much of a factor, which I think helped me. Starting at around lap 4, I started to fade, and my 20 second lead started to ebb away. At the end of lap 5, just after I passed an open B rider, I made the turn into the gully and was confronted with a woman who’d stalled riding through it on her warmup. I managed to avoid hitting her (and more impressively, managed to avoid saying bad words to her), but lost back the pass I’d just made. I was able to get it back, but I was not exactly replete with extra energy at that point. As I passed the start/finish line to start the bell lap, second place had caught up, and was right on my wheel.
This is the kind of stuff bike racing stories are made of: two riders, one lap, for the top step of the podium. I buried myself to get to the top of the hill, and hit the singletrack still in first place, but with my guts in my throat. I managed not to throw up, and was even able to recover a little as we descended. Fortunately, the gully was clear this time. I concentrated on hitting all the sharp chicanery as smoothly and cleanly as possible, and sprinting out all of the straights. I could see his shadow just behind my own as we headed toward the last turn, but as we turned up hill for the last time I was pretty sure I had it. I was right, and I sprinted across the line for my first ever cyclocross win!
After the race, he told me he’d been just hoping for me to make a mistake, but that I’d ridden the last lap too cleanly to do anything. In addition to my win, Slonie grabbed the final podium spot in the open Bs.
