I'm not sure how you kids who write these incredibly detailed, blow by blow race reports remember all that stuff. Maybe the kids part has something to do with it. One thing about this year was that my age advanced more noticeably. My hair got a lot grayer. Physically I'm different. Maybe it happens gradually, but you just notice all at once. But I'd better get this report written while I can still remember anything.
You already read about the start of the 3/4 race in the last post. I surprised that nobody called me out for doing the 3/4 masters instead of the 1/2/3. I'm the one who says "if you want to race with 4's, then why be a 3?" remember? But I also just said I'm old. And I'm not very successful as a cyclocrosser, and I never was to tell you the truth. But here I just wanted to get out on the course and do some laps in order to give myself a fighting chance in the singlespeed race, and the 3/4 masters was first. I may be an incredibly nice, helpful, sweet and nurturing human being, but as a racer I'm an opportunist.
I fumbled the chain back on as quickly as I could, which was not very quickly. I had my really nice Garneau gloves on too, and was not happy about greasing them up. Good thing I don't lube my chains much (in this case, at all). Now I'm chasing in that danger zone ten or fifteen seconds behind the last rider in the starting pack, you know, right where all the spectators assume the coast is clear and cross the course. And I'm amped and roaring. Luckily nobody decides to make a Roadrunner cartoon out of this and I've got clear track all the way to the maze. I'd ridden it once, but even though (like Alp d' Huez) each of the hairpins had a personality all its own, the whole thing was still quite a mystery to me. The tail end of the conga line was visible just a few switchbacks ahead, and I charged through the stakes in hopes of taking my spot and making up for the failed start. When I was just about there...I lost the front wheel on the one frosty turn and hit the dirt. My front Vittoria Tigre was old enough to enter the junior race, but at least it cleared the sidepull brakes. I wasn't sure if it had rolled or what, and did not notice the icy grass there until later.
I picked myself up and gave chase once again, managing to pass one or two riders before the plunge on the back part of the course. Here is where the memory gets fuzzy. I know I passed Jorge and another MRC guy who appeared only interested in racing each other, and the highly partisan MRC crowd cheered them on as they elbowed each other around in a two abreast procession through the maze. Besides them, I worked my way past maybe three more riders, before once again losing the chain. Or maybe it was twice again. Like I said, I don't remember. The final straw was the wheel popping out of the frame (this was derailment two or three if you're keeping score). The Rossin has chrome dropouts, which never did hold an axle all that well. If you read the recyclingnews review of this bike, then you know that it's also cracked and brazed back together on the drive side. So there were more forces at work than just bad luck here; I had cheapness and stupidity going for me too.
I just picked it up and started running to the pit. Which was a Long. Way. Away. The maze may have been tight and laid out over a small patch of land, but other than one or two spots, it was actually pretty fast -- when you were riding a bike. At least I'm still a pretty good runner, just not a good 'cross runner. This wasn't quite a 5k, but it may as well have been. Almost everyone who'd I'd passed took back their spots, except for the two MRC guys, who were still busy gleefully running each other into the tape. I yelled "bike, bike" to Todd as I approached the pit, and we did my first ever in 21 years of off and on cx racing PRO bike handoff. I raced off on my geared cross bike, immediately noticing that I don't really like the way it fits. It was used, it was cheap, and it was made for a taller person with longer arms. It's too long for me, but what the hey, it's got a chain that doesn't fall off the cogs. I'm not sure if Todd will magically be able to fix my singlespeed, so I ride all out, which was dumb. I might have got three spots back. I did not get lapped, but my finishing place won't exactly be propelling me up the crossresults.com rankings either. Oh, yeah, almost forgot, I muffed a remount and did the back tire doggie hump. In short shorts. At least there were no cantilevers on this bike for that extra piercing finale.
At the end I went back and the Rossin was ready to go. Todd had tightened the shit out of the skewer. The chain seemed a touch loose to me, but he's a singlespeeder and a PRO Tour de France mechanic, so I wasn't even thinking about touching it. I grabbed a swig of water and headed back to the start for the combined singlespeed/fast woman/juniors race. For some reason they put us singlespeeders in the front. I didn't stay there for long though, as this time I knew better than to sprint with all my might. Roz quickly pushed me aside and charged through the moss pit. Having just raced, I was content to pace myself and follow her. This part was cool because the crowd was cheering her wildly. She tripped and fell on the steep runup though, doing the awkward stumble/crash right onto her own bike thing. I was a gentleman and kept the angry mob behind at bay while she picked herself up and remounted. At the barriers I went around and used my magnificent roadie speed to move ahead. I believe some have called this my "time trial switch" or something like that.
A woman with BRC shorts slipped and fell in the same frosty corner where I had gone down earlier. Then one of the juniors also bit it in the maze. That may have been a different lap. I don't think I was doing too badly in this race, but in the middle I ended up in no man's land with nobody close behind or ahead. It was kind of a bummer because by that time they were all tired of heckling/encouraging me due to my choice of clothing, and the others who were still garnering the cheers were far away from me. I figured the race must be nearly over though, expecting the bell or at worst two to go when I passed the officials. FIVE to go! I even asked if they were serious, and they confirmed. Uggh. But this is where the beauty of singlespeeding caught up to me. That's right, I said beauty. I've ridden one before, lots, both fixed and freewheel. Never really much off road though, now that I think about it. On the speed sections of the course, you're sort of getting a rest. Turning the cranks fast, yes, but not much differently than just spinning comfortably on the road. In the turns, well, there's nothing to think about except picking a good line, being smooth, and keeping up your momentum. It especially makes you ride the turns with consideration of exit speed. And it's quiet. I'll elaborate more later. Maybe this was just the perfect course for one. But I think I get it now.
Of course, half a lap later, the chain falls off. Again, fuzzy memories, but I think one guy I'd passed got me back while I fixed it. Then another guy (Team Zanc, maybe) chased me down from behind, catching right up to me. Coming up on two to go, I attacked into the barriers to prevent him from getting a draft on the farmo-bahn straightaway past the finish. Gapping him here handily, I calculated that I could take this guy in a sprint, deciding to worry just about staying right with him until the end. And then, in the maze, I miss a PBR feed, and the chain falls off again. PBR guy tells me it serves me right for turning down beer. Colin heckles me from the sidelines. The Zanc guy passes me. And leader Dan Coady laps me. Did I say I got it?
I jumped on Coady's wheel to see how long I could stay with him. Not very long. Through the maze I was right there, but once we hit the barrier and runup it was like he vanished. I was done. I let the second place guy pass, and since I'm lapped this is going to be my last lap, and I don't get to finish the season in an epic last lap battle for 8th with some racer I don't know. But that was ok. This was "wicked fun." Post race, everyone was so nice, women and singlespeeders alike. And we had beer. Damn, that was long and detailed. Thanks for reading.
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