I have been excited about this weekend since it happened last year! The US Grand Prix of Cyclocross. This was the event that sort of sparked the desire to race ‘cross to begin with. And I am pretty damn exhausted from it now that it’s over. It was a great time!

Saturday. Day One. Crack of dawn start, somewhere six rows back. I call it mid-pack. The pre-race jitters were at bay probably because of this start position: if I’m this far back, I can’t feel obligated to make the hole-shot and contend with the leaders. Not that that was an accurate perspective, but it seemed to be a good position for me mentally anyway. At the whistle, there was the usual carnage seen in a big Cat 4 field, I managed to steer clear of the majority of it, and got ahead of the massive group. The big thing I felt confident about was the ability to hammer past loads of riders who were determined to take the “obvious” good line. This turned out to be a great strategy, perhaps it was home-field advantage, but I frequently took the bad line through the straight-aways, the sandpits, and the mud trenches. I felt strong picking my way through the field. Somewhere in the final lap I found one of my target competitors, happily smoked him on the uphill exit from the long sandpit (derailleur grinding audibly) and kept him behind me the rest of the way to the finish line. Yowza!

I should have known something was going to go awry when the official at the finish line on Saturday asked me if I was third place. Isn’t that their job to track us, or are we tracking ourselves now? I couldn’t wait to find out the results though, I had to high-tail it to work. I only heard an hour or so later that I finished in fourth place; pretty satisfying result for me. The issues for my finishing results wouldn’t occur until the Sunday race though.

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Was just told about this old John Candy skit. Roy’s Food Repair. Funny stuff.

I love the Paul Simon bit with the pretzels. Real sorrow at being straight and truthful about being unable to repair the pretzels for a reasonable fee. “These pretzels are made by machines. I could do the work, but it’s by hand! Now that’s man-hours!”

Tell me, why does the term tubular persist? Especially with the introduction to the bike world of tubeless wheels?

There’s tubular wheels, which are different from clincher wheels, which are mildly different from tubeless wheels. Right? Tubulars gets the glue, clinchers get the tube, and tubeless just gets what they all get: air. So. Am I the only one who’s bothered (not irrate by any means, nor even annoyed really) by the easily misspoken and too similar terms of tubular and tubeless? Clincher is different enough, easy to distinguish. And by all means, this distinguishment—to me—is easy enough visually and mechanically. But conversationally, it’s easy to misspeak and use the term tubeless when you mean tubular and tubular when you mean tubeless. (The latter is probably more common, but that’s splitting hairs.)

Again. So. Why isn’t the easy to distinguish clarifier not more commonly spoken. Instead of calling tubulars tubulars, why not call tubulars sew-ups? So far I’ve attempted to begin changing this nomenclature in the shop I’m now at and am finding that the term tubular is so ingrained in the discussions that it’s difficult even for myself to use “sew-up”. I’m trying though to turn the tide.

Sew-ups.

Sew-ups.

Sew-ups.

“Which sew-ups should I get for my new ‘cross wheels?” Tufo or Challenge? Vittoria of DuGast?

“Why can’t I get Racing Ralph sew-ups right now?” (Because they’re unavailable, Schwalbe has put them in re-development.)

“Why does everyone seem to think these Grifo sew-ups are the cat’s pajamas? Aren’t they just another sew-up?” (Actually, I didn’t know that about the Clement history, so that’s cool. Secondly, that’s a decently convincing review.)

“Why are sew-ups so expensive?” (They’re typically hand-made, that’s one reason why.)

Back to my point. (Maybe there’s something I’m unaware of, but from what I know these two terms are 100% interchangeable, so why don’t we use the less easily confused term to make conversation clearer? Wasn’t that interchange above easy to follow?)

With Sundays off to race cyclocross, yesterday was my day to ride. With a borrowed car we headed up to Fairfield, Ohio, to Harbin Park for the last day of the UCI3 cyclocross festival. Arriving at the park a mere thirty minutes prior to race start time (due to getting lost following the vague directions provided by the race organizers) I didn’t have a lot of time to pre-ride the course, get dressed completely, or eat anything. The pre-race jitters were full-on. The post-driving rage was equally full on. I like a good hour at least to decompress after driving for a long time—this is one of the reasons I don’t like to drive. Getting lost before a race truly brought that rage to the front of my psyche, I usually have a better grasp of my emotions—as seen in the next paragraph. I’m still debating whether or not that anger was good or bad for the race, I’m leaning towards bad though.

While I’m mentally complaining that I wasn’t able to wholly pre-ride the course at the Cat 4 start area I’m told that I don’t have my transponder chip for the race timing. Great, so it’s a mad dash back to the registration booth where they earlier told me they didn’t know when we got our transponders! I’m riding back to the booth, I duck under the course tape and my water bottle gets pulled out of my jersey only to hear some fat guy heckle me with, “way to drop your bottle, dude!” To which, in my aggravated panic, I reply, “way to organize a race, fucking douchebag!” An immature response to an immature comment. Tit for tat (I guess…) *

Back at that start line, I’m amazed I’m on the front row. Sweet, but with that placement I can’t relax, it feels like an obligation. An obligation to a performance I’m not sure I’m ready for. So, to get ready, as the officiant is blabbing on about whatever, I start breathing again, steadying myself mentally. Oh shit, I didn’t stretch whatsoever, that pre-ride was bogus, etc. etc. Breath. Breath. Then the whistle….

It was good start, albeit casual, but I made the turn in about 6th or 7th I’d guess. The first few technical turns were slow, and the first entry into the long sprint was terrible. I felt cooked already, but somehow, I didn’t back off too much. My first entry into the uphill sandpit was grueling, but I rode it with only a couple guys ahead of me. Then more technical turns and quite a bit of slipping—I wasn’t trusting my tires; I never really did for the remainder of the day for some reason. Except when I was in the downhill sandpit, every time I entered that I felt as though I was ripping through it fast as hell. Control was extremely loose, but still present. I only fishtailed into the barrier separating the two pits once—I think startling a rider on the other side—I rode it out pretty well though. Riding out the slipping and sliding is what it’s about I think, something I feel confident with, just not as much experience with yet.

The circuit went into some more technical turns then into a nice sequence of  uphill grass, cement descent, nice fast turn into grass/mud, then uphill cement. It felt great to accelerate up that climb. Then the fast grass/dirt down and up which claimed at least one collarbone. This whole sequence and it’s subsequent barriers (while tall) I felt decently strong throughout. But still the lingering emotions from the morning were still holding me back. The mental affecting the physical. Riding through the uphill sand the second time proved completely worthless, the pain and exhaustion from the exertion was stupid and lost me a position.

At one point during the second to last lap another racer (a +35′er) and I began encouraging each other, we stayed close the remainder of the race. It was helpful to have some grounding that way. First and second were pretty much out of sight, and my mark was still behind me, so I was in a good position. I feel that I need to overcome the tendency to stay behind these people, overcome the doubt that I can pass and keep the lead. At any rate, having a “partner” like that temporarily was awesome, if only for the immediate dissolution of that partnership the moment the sprint finish becomes evident. I thought we duked it out nicely even though he was a fraction of a second across before me taking the fourth place finish overall (different category).

* As far as my offense of cussing out the pre-race heckler who turned out to be a race official, I was dealt a $20 fine and the obligation to apologize. I understand the professional attitude everyone should present at an event like this so I made forth with the apology and agreed to the punitive fine, but that’s only because I want to continue to support this sport and it’s associated organizers—I’ll consider it a donation. However, I think I’m right to complain and state that considering my category (Cat 4) and it’s non-UCI status (as far as I know) and my lack of a UCI license, I don’t think it acceptable that I pay a UCI fine. Furthermore, I don’t think it right that a race officiant should be able to get away with heckling race participants, keep in mind we’ve paid an entry fee and are therefore “customers”. You don’t insult the person who bought a bike from your store, do you? We’ve paid an entry fee that should be covering the expenses of organizing the race, and in this situation, this race (and evidently the weekend’s entire festival) was quite poorly organized in my opinion. Honestly, why wasn’t I immediately given my transponder the moment I registered. Why didn’t the registration official know where or when I get my transponder? Why were more specific driving directions sent the morning of the race that I didn’t get until I got home that night? Directions that were more clearly written than the directions listed on the event’s website. And shouldn’t the transponder be able to count how many times a participant crosses the finish line? Meaning a lapped rider shouldn’t be counted as coming across first? But I digress.

The race course was, like everyone told me the week prior, an awesome circuit. Considering the poor organization, aggravation, and chaos prior to my start time, it was a great time and I’m quite satisfied with my results—I finished 4th in my category. I achieved my personal goal for this day’s race which was to come ahead of one rider in particular. People keep mentioning my ability to upgrade to the Cat 3’s and I don’t agree, I’m not quite ready for that yet, I still need more races under my belt and basically more experience (maybe a lighter bike and definitely more training for power and endurance).

Other notable scenes from the day:

- Seeing the elite dude taking a pounding to the chest on the sand pit separating barrier, getting up, and riding off pumping his arms in the air. This was much to the crowd’s amusement.

- Seeing two broken collar bones, one of which was witnessed in the “making” at the elite sprint finish for tenth place. Ouch!

- It was thrilling to watch the pros riding: Powers, Trebon, Compton, etc. and the awesome sprint finish of Laura van Gilder overcoming Sue Butler. Such power!

Some photos I took here.

The other day I installed a set of these on a customer’s ‘cross bike:

I was totally blown away by the sheer nothingness of their weight. According to TRP, they’re only 103grams. I am pleased to be handling and working with such high-end gear at the shop I’m at now, regardless of my attitude about super light-weight components. I am beginning to see the light—to a degree.

Such is the case, I’ve just installed some new brakes on my ‘cross bike. Compared to those above, (and the bike more specifically) mine may as well be on a tank. Forty + minutes of riding on rough terrain as fast as possible, I can see the advantage of having a lighter bike.

Up until now, durability has always been my philosophy. It still is, but now that I’m racing it makes more sense to me now. I will say this however, who needs to stop in a race? Brakes only slow you down. That’s the advantage my brakes have: that wet weather yesterday, I didn’t have any brake traction on my commute home. Beat that!