Children of the Cornfield

Photo by PHWadsworth

Aka my 2008 Putney Cyclocross race report. It turns out "the cornfield" has a name, Kathan Meadow, or at least that's the name of the road that we race out of it on. That's correct, part of the Putney CX course travels on a public road with neighbors of the shop occasionally driving it. The course also goes about a hundred feet straight up the side of a steep embankment that must be forty feet high (wait a minute, that's not straight up, is it?), then zig zags all around the shop parking lot and surrounding woods before plunging down into the "jungle of mud" which this year was a rutted corridor that roughly guided your out of control bike back out to the cornfield like a Hot Wheels track. Most definitely old school, most definitely fun, and most definitely the kind of playtime that turns us back into children.

Putney may not be the biggest race, with maybe 200 or so total entrants, but for me the social scene tops all others. Everyone is in a good mood here. You can't help it. Forget the race report: the Putney school was selling some of the best coffee I've ever tasted, as well as -- donuts that did not come from a chain! The first one I got was still warm. Yes, first, as in not last. Not even close. And of course burrittos. And a woodstove burning hot outside the shop, next to where results were posted. Where else can you hang out around a hot stove eating a homemade donut while watching the next race? Nowhere. Back to our race report...

I was expecting a bit of mud in the cornfield, as I knew some rain had gone over the region, just like last year. When I got to the venue early and headed out with Eric for course recon, we found the cornfield oddly dry, just a bit tacky in spots. In contrast, the top part of the course and the "jungle section" were under water. Maybe not snorkel and fins deep, but standing water. Wow. I retreated to the trainer, set up courseside for a few of the early races, and completed my warmup. The weather was quite nice, comfortably cool but not cold, and even a bit warm when the sun was shining, which seemed like more than 50% of the time. I did some good tempo and knew my legs should be ok after taking Saturday off from racing, but I wondered how rutted the course was getting from the 4s, and how much it would dry out. The answers: a lot and not much, in that order.

The 11:00 group consisted of about twenty-five 35+ riders, a 30 second gap to just ten of us in the 45+, then another 30 seconds to ten or so 55+. Off the line I'm last, but in contact. Cronoman is butting heads with Soups up front, and Timmy is just ahead of me. I'm bad on the barriers, but pass one guy heading into the woods, and I f up a lot of stuff, and get gapped on the mini runup. We plunge down the slippery slope into the jungle and I come out the other side in one piece, and the race is on. Timmy opens a nice gap in the cornfield, and there is a Putney guy and another guy between us. I think I'm ahead of just one guy. The Putney guy has lots of local fans around the course. I sit on these guys up Kathan Meadow Road the first time, and then get gapped on the runup. Here's where I may get mixed up, but it went something like what follows.

I moved past one or two guys the next time around the cornfield. Timmy is still well ahead, and I doubt I'll catch him. Then the Putney guy passes me back. At least I think that it's him. After a bit the people cheering for him seems to have switched names? I'm baffled, but I follow him anyway and he takes better lines than I was using so I go to school. We bomb back down the slippery slope and start racing through the jungle, and there is the Cronoman laying on his back, looking unconscious. He is about fifteen feet from the racing line. WTF? Someone is attending to him, and I see slight movement as I go past. Briefly I think about stopping to help, but he is supposed to be a tough bastard, and I don't want to spoil the child by pretending to care that much about him, so I presume he'll be fit to plow tomorrow and keep racing. Besides, Timmy is the nicest guy on the team, and he didn't stop, so damned if I'm going to.

Putney guy pulls off on the road like he wants me to pull through, but since Timmy is the next guy up the road, nothing doing. Putney guy doesn't protest and resumes his pull, with me sitting on. I shadow him as best I can but he gaps me here and there. I report my fallen comrade to the officials as we race by the finish line, but by the time we go back through the jungle Crono is gone. Putney guy keeps pulling and Timmy is now in sight. At the finish line the lap cards say two to go, but then they yell out "231 you have one to go." 231 is Putney guy. It takes a second for my feeble brain to realize that I am not racing this guy; he is the leader of the 55+ and had caught me from behind. They were apparently doing one lap less than us. So now I really felt like a jackass for not pulling, but what the hell. He seems to know he's got his race sewn up, or maybe I got faster, but this time I don't get gapped anywhere and we careen through the jungle and back into the cornfield together. He tows me up to Timmy and the three of us hit the road together, so this time I pull. Putney guy (turns out this ones name is Phil) still passed before the runup and those two both beat me to the top. Phil pulled off as winner of the 55+ and then it was just me and Timmy with one lap to go. I fumbled my way over the mini runup, then took the front going around the shop. We made it through the jungle for the last time without any mosh dives, and as we entered the cornfield I eased a bit just to make sure he was on my wheel. Well, a BOB kit comes flying by, but it ain't Timmy -- It's the Cronoman, back from the dead, and charging past without so much as a grunt! Glad I didn't stop for his dramatic ass... I get his wheel, and figure what the hell, I'm going to race the fucker. I don't get too many chances to beat him at cross, so I'm not letting this one slip by.

At least that was the plan... This year the corn rows must have been planted pretty tight, and they kind of did a half-assed job of cutting them down. The racing track (worn in from weekly practice races on this course) was only one cornrow wide. Over near the end, just before where they'd laid out a chicane with stakes and tape, there were two big tractor ruts. The racing line made a quick shunt from one cornrow to the next in order to avoid the ruts. Well, I was drafting the possessed Cronoman so close, I missed the cutover when he swerved through it, ending up on the wrong side of the ruts. My choice was either crash through the chicane tape or jump back over the ruts, which was really the only choice. I got gapped and he bullied his way around a few 35+ backmarkers we'd caught and that was that. I almost blew closing back up to his wheel on the road, but he just sprinted up the runup anyway and cruised comfortably into the last paying spot of 5th while I rolled in behind, with Timmy just one second more back at the line.

Afterward was more donuts, burrittos, coffee, music, and making fun of the Cronoman's crash. I guess the stategic genius was leading the race and then decided the treacherous jungle would be a good place to attack. He caught a rut while standing up sprinting, vaulting himself into the air for a somersault half gainer with a twist before pirouetting down into the mud to perform his famous dieing bug finale. I'm going to have to get faster so that the next time he pulls a circus act like this I can be close enough behind to watch the show. Yes, almost three hours of driving each way for a 45 minute race is a little crazy, but if there was any race this year that made me feel like a kid again it was this one. Thanks for reading.