the very hungry Cat3rpillar: DCCX, 23. October 2011

Wow, I haven't blogged about racing in a really long time. A bunch of other stuff happened this year, most of it awesome (got a poem published, got a new job that I love, and traveled a bunch), and some of it less so (crashed and hurt my lower back about a month and a half before 'cross season started in earnest). Despite my injury, I had a great start to the season at Quad... then got progressively less excited and more disheartened about the season with each New England Verge race I did... then went to the mid-Atlantic, found my mojo again, and raced my face off for two days at Granogue.

More on all of that later, but that brings us to this past weekend.

I did DCCX back in 2009, but skipped it last year for Downeast. This year, however, I decided to skip Downeast. Though I generally consider myself a mudder, the bacteriophobe in me really hates racing through a start-finish area that's covered in thin traces of cow dung. Plus, I thought it would be a good idea to stay out of the Verge rut I'd dug myself into. So, even though DCCX was the weekend after Granogue, I decided to sign up for it.

The drive down was much more merciful than it had been the preceding weekend, plus--BONUS--the no-parking area in front of my friend Ken's condo becomes weekend-long parking at 7 p.m. on Fridays, and I rolled up at about 7:04 to snag the first spot. SCORE. Ken and I shot the shit (we've been friends for years, and he was one of the folks who first got me into bike racing, back when he lived in Boston in 2007), then headed out to dinner with our friends Anna and Jen. After THAT, the cold I'd been nursing all week started to flare up into total nasal congestive doom, but I fought it with some sleep.

Saturday the course was open for pre-riding. If openers matter--and after this weekend, I'm beginning to think they do--I got in, like, the best openers of my life, and it wasn't just the Sudafed I'd taken a couple hours before. I did about 4-5 laps, figured out lines, and made a new friend--an eight-year-old 'cross racer named CeeCee who was going to move up from the kids' race (which she'd destroyed the previous weekend) for her cub junior debut. I talked to her about different tricks she could use to get more height when carrying, and also talked to her about how to get safely lapped.

Openers opened up my nose as well as my legs, so I was able to breathe a little better by the end of the workout. Ken and I got respective dinners from Whole Foods, watched Bridesmaids on On Demand, caught a bit of the Silver Spring Zombie Walk...



... and then headed back, shamefully, to watch Bridesmaids again. To those who hate, I have one word to say: COPCAKES. Anyway, with half an hour to go, I gave up on the movie and went to bed, then tossed and turned and had nightmares involving having to go to the vet put down my childhood dog TWICE because the first time didn't take (beagle zombie?!).

Ken's race was at 10:00 and mine was at noon. We got to the venue at 8:30, which gave me ample time to schlep my trainer to Ken's team tent and watch some of the other races. I did a lap after the 10 a.m. race finished, mostly concerned with the line I was going to take on the downhill hairpin chicane (it was already tricky, and Sunday it was muddier than Saturday). I concluded that it was rideable, hopped on the trainer, and sang Jen an impromptu, sarcastic ballad about my undying love for the trainer.

I switched wheels, and then, with thirty minutes till 'CROSS TIME, something started happening. I found myself feeling a level of nervousness that I haven't had at 'cross races most of this season. It was the good kind of nervousness, the kind that involves being a little scared but also a lot excited, the kind that's a lot like the nervousness you have before a date with someone you really like. And just like that, I realized that, holy crap, 'cross was something that I REALLY LIKED again.

I was staged in the second row of the Women's 3/4 field, with the 15-18 juniors in front of us and the 1/2/3 women in front of them. We went off about 40 seconds to a minute after the juniors.

Starts are generally not my strong suit, but I nailed this one, coming off of the pavement and up onto the grass solidly in the top 10 and in a good position to pass (for me, this is a more solid bet than the hole shot). I kept moving up during the parade lap to the start/finish, and by the time we were at the chicane, I was in the top five. We went through the start finish and when we came to the fast barriers I hit the gas again, then again on the bricks (some people were using the section to recover, but for me, it was big ring all the way). Before I knew it, I was behind Emily from Momentum racing, solidly in third position. Diedre Ribbens had a brief mechanical and we passed her; then I passed Emily and, holy crap, was actually leading. This meant that I was doing everything in my power to not go mental and crash.

I started building a gap on Emily, but Diedre surged by both of us, so I started chasing her instead, and we built on the gap. It was somewhere around here that it hit me: there were about forty women in the race, and I was in second. I had earned six upgrade points over the past eleven months, and, if I could just hold on to second place for the next few laps, I'd earn the final four points towards the ten that I needed for my upgrade. From then on, the race became about building the gap behind me and riding smart.

Diedre and I went through the finish area and the lap cards showed two to go. I thought, "I can do this" and rode another smart lap, surging where I could and recovering where I could, preparing to blow it all on the final lap. Then when we came through again... it was STILL two to go. In retrospect, I think this was because we weren't get lapped by Laura Van Gilder, whereas most of the other racers were, but during a 'cross race, there's not much retrospect: there's just things getting painful and then things getting awful. I'd been planning to see what I could do to catch Diedre in the final lap, but with two to go instead of one, Diedre built a gap on me. I clung on for dear life, miraculously managed to ride the penultimate chicane, and came through the finish area again determined to stay in second. I kept surging and building, until I knew I had enough space to hit the final hairpin chicane with care instead of desperation. I came down it, left foot out, brakes squealing, fork chattering, but line intact. Then I rode up it again, descended, came quickly and cleanly through the final few corners, and sprinted up the finishing straight to hold on to second with 15 seconds to spare.

My brain couldn't believe I'd done it, but my body and bike were moving on autopilot toward the team team tent, where I de-chamoidified and put on jeans and a clean jersey (as if I did this every day or something). Then Ken and I went back over to the finish area to wait for the podium. While we waited, I took advantage of the multiple snack vendors and procured a cone of frites and a tray of mini-pancakes, which I decimated in about five minutes.



Then we had our podium ceremony. Hooray podium!



Then I ate another tray of mini-pancakes, and went back to the team tent for a Yuengling. Hooray beer!



Ken and I went to Chinatown for dinner, then had celebratory cocktails in Silver Spring. Hooray Manhattans and Sidecars!



Then we went back to the condo and watched Bridesmaids AGAIN, because we're chicks like that.

Then I drove home to Massachusetts, unpacked, sent a race resume to our local USAC official, and, twenty-eight hours later, turned into a beautiful, slow-but-not-lapped-by-LVG-even-with-a-gap, Cat 2 cyclocross racer.

sometimes, you see something small and beautiful on the side of the road...

... and hours of winter base miles suddenly seem worth it.





Spring!!

2010 redux.

Ed. note: When we last left our intrepid hero, it was the autumn of 2010, and she was procrastinating on her race reports. OOPS.

Soooo, um, yeah, about the rest of that 2010 'cross season...

Providence Cyclocross Festival (October 9-10) was a fun weekend. I literally growled when I passed one of my crossresults nemeses in the penultimate lap on Day 2--obviously, it was all in good fun and jest, because making animal noises at LTHR is awesome--but then she came from behind at the end and nipped me in the final sprint for 6th. D'oh. Still a great race, though.

I made my annual return to the MAC the following weekend (October 16-17) to race Granogue, and was really glad I did. The Granogue 'Cross organizers put on a fantastic race at a beautiful venue, and they've been doing it for a decade. The only thing that sucked was something that was completely my fault: I had my car keys in my jacket pocket, and dropped them on the course during warmup. OOPS. Fortunately, Richard Fries and a guy from the Cat 4 men's race found them for me, meaning that I was able to get into my car (and my clean skinsuit) prior to my race. I called it "The Miracle of 'Crossmas." As far as racing went, I just missed the podium both days, with 6th place, but was delighted with the results considering that I'd also started five rows back both days. And, when I wasn't racing I got to hang out with my out with my MAC friends Jess, Vinnie, Steve, Jen, and Ken. All in all, a great weekend.

Downeast Cyclocross (October 23-24) was the following weekend. I carpooled with David Wilcox, and when I showed up at his house to pick him up, I noticed a bag full of tools, including a hacksaw, sitting on the doorstep. I was worried that we were going to have a Misery of a weekend up in Maine, but it turned out that he just had to build his new bike. Whew. He and Brams took care of that, while Lodri and I set up a Thai food buffet on an ironing board in the hotel room. Good times...



... oh, and racing! My legs were DEEEEEEAAAAAAD that weekend, but Crossresults had five top tens on Day 1 and two wins on Day 2, so it was still all good.

Canton Cup took place on October 30. I love the course at Canton because it's sweepy and fast, but also has a lot of running sections where you get to take barriers or other obstacles at momentum. Because the course at Canton's so fast, not nailing its few barriers, obstacles and technical sections means crashing, losing your position, and likely never getting it back--I learned that twice the hard way during last year's race. This year, I arrived early enough to preride the long lap twice, and it made a huge difference. Also, at the start line, the officials told us we were doing three laps, so I quickly planned a rough race strategy (fight for position in the first turns of lap 1, stick with it in lap 2, gun it in lap 3) and stuck with it. I rode a perfect (for me) race, got second, and was PSYCHED. I won some armwarmers, some socks, and a sweet pint glass. (I accidentally broke the pint glass during the first week of the offseason.) For more on the race, see the previous post, which I wrote a few days after the race, but forgot to publish until now.

The next weekend (November 6-7), I traveled to NoHo for Cycle-smart International. I had a freaking fantastic race on Day 1, finishing at 5th (out of 75 starters) behind my friend and longtime nemesis Nancy Labbe-Giguere from LadiesFirst Racing. On Day 2, a traffic jam in the first turn of the race screwed things up a little bit, but I was still OK with 11th.

Plymouth 'Cross (November 13) was the next weekend. Given that I'd spent the previous evening imbibing at a skinsuit party (not kidding... it was AWESOME) at the abode of team captain Colin, I'm not sure how or why I thought the race might go well for me. It didn't.

I was sick as a dog for Lowell CX (November 21) but decided that it would be a good idea to race anyway. It wasn't.

One of my favorite races, Baystate/Sterling Cyclocross, was the next weekend (November 27-28). I was just getting over my cold, but the race was still fun (read: I was almost as competitive as I'd like to have been, but not quite). Also, my spare wheelset disappeared from the pit on Day 1, which was beyond stressful. Fortunately, they reappeared on Day 2.

Immediately after I got over the cold I'd had for Lowell and was getting over at Sterling, I acquired a new cold. STRAIGHT BALLER. I spent NBX GP of Cross (December 4-5) sniffling on my couch and watching Friday Night Lights.

Sometimes a little emo sniffling and rest pay off: by the time The Ice Weasels Cometh (December 11) rolled around, I felt fantastic--so fantastic that I was in 5th at one point, and about to get paid. Then I dropped a chain coming down the flyover, and got dropped by the group I was with. I managed to catch up to and pass Rachel, and get back 6th, though, so I was happy. Then we hung out and drank beer, and went over to Colin's house and drank more beer, so I continued to be happy.

New England Regional Championships (December 19) started really well. Then I crashed coming down the flyover the first time. BrittLee thought I was dead, but I wasn't (even though I'd endo-ed and hit my head). Unfortunately, the crash had left my stem at a 10' angle to my top tube. Not having a spare bike, and knowing the fix would take at least 30 seconds, I opted not to pit. This made cornering during the rest of the race difficult, but I managed to fight back for a couple spots.

When all of that was over, it was time for the offseason. Hooray!

here we go now, here we go (Canton Cup, 30. October 2010).

Ed. note: When we last left our intrepid hero, it was October of 2010, she was procrastinating on her Providence race report. She also wrote this race report in late October/early November, and totally forgot to publish it until now. OOPS.

While it's hardly been the Trail of Tears, and has definitely been an improvement over last year, this 'cross season has, for me, also involved a few near misses. There was crashing out of third place at Loon Mountain in September, getting nipped at the line at Providence after almost beating Karen Tripp, and finishing just off the podium at Granogue both days (6th--don't get me wrong, I got staged in the 5th row, and still won mad prizes, so I'm psyched). In my better races, I've been finishing JUST behind the people earning upgrade points--something that also happened to me at Canton last year.

You either love the course at Canton, or you hate it. I happen to love it, because it suits my strengths--i.e., it lacks tight corners and has a ton of fast running sections. The problem with the speed of the course is that everyone else is going fast too, which makes it harder to tease out a gap: if you crash, you're kinda toast. That's what happened to me last year, when two crashes put me out of 3rd, then 5th, into 6th. So I designated Canton as an "A" race this year, hoping to improve upon last year's performance.

Canton's traditionally held on the weekend right before Hallowe'en, which means that some people don costumes for the race. While I don't oppose 'crosstumes, I've never worn one at Hallowe'en races because of the potential for it to get in the way. This year, though, some guys on the Twitter were freaking out about the potential for costume call-ups, and I ended up freaking out with them and deciding I needed to come up with a half-ass 'crosstume so that I could stay in the front row call-ups occurred. This is how I ended up wearing red Dame Edna-style glasses and affixing devil horns to my helmet with red electrical tape (and those are the kinds of poor style choices I make when I listen to the advice of Cat 4 pros). Of course, only about two or three other girls also had costumes. One chick was dressed as Hulk Hogan, Lodrina from Geekhouse went as The 80s, and Emily Curley ran a disc wheel on her bike so that it would look like a spaceship and travel equally fast.

Unlike Granogue, where I was staged in the 5th row, and Downeast, where I got bogged down at the start, I managed to not screw things up at Canton. I was on the front row, and went up the hill just behind the lead group, which put me through the hole shot somewhere around 8th or 10th. I played it fairly safe through the gravel, because a. whenever I change position on gravel, I crash, and b. I knew I could make up some places more effectively in the grass turns. Once we got beyond the giant rock and hit the grass, it was ON, and I began picking people off.

Meanwhile, further up the course, Emily's spaceship was battling Hope Strode from Wheelworks. By the time we'd passed the first set of barriers and were approaching the brief doubletrack turn in the woods, I'd managed to get myself into third, and kept them both in my sights. When we got through the grass and onto the asphalt, they were working together (or, okay, one of them was sucking the other's wheel), and I kept chasing. At some point (I think during that lap, but my memory is blanking because, well, sometimes racing makes me stupid) Emily managed to shell Hope, and I caught up to her in the grass turns before the runup.

Once it had registered that I was actually in second, my chief mantra became "Fort, don't ---- this up." I still had Emily in my sights, but was hell-bent on racing smart in an attempt to not screw things up as royally as I had last year. So basically, once I got past Hope, my next project was pretty much to not crash at the base of the runup. I didn't--sa-WEET! And I managed to nail the runup, to boot. I was worried that Hope's roadie skills would enable her to catch me on the track section, so I got into the drops and worked my way into the pain cave. This was great, but I was still playing it safe, and needed to push it more. Bramhall could see this in my face when we came out into the short barriers in the final lap, and he yelled at me to not rein it in. That gave me the extra push I needed to keep things moving. I wrapped up the race in second, and it was awesome!

Providence wrap-up later...

... for now, a few more pics from Night Weasels are up at the crossresults team blog.

Night Weasels, Night Weasels: we know how to do it.

I'm pretty sure that, back when Colin allowed me on this team, it wasn't for my Yankovician propensity to turn popular songs into horrific parodies about bike racing (my personal favorite so far: "I'm bringing CXy back / You vain crit racers don't know how to act"). As a result of my bad habit, this past weekend at Gloucester poor Dana had to witness me singing, "Night Weasels, Night Weasels" to the tune of this song:



Fortunately, Dana was buzzed enough not to care. Unfortunately, "Night Weasels, Night Weasels" as sung in Barry Gibb's falsetto has been stuck in my head for the past week and a half. The good news: the race was totally worth it.

Sweens and I arrived at Da Shrew... errr... the Ski Ward around 2:20 (the Princess demanded that we stop en route to buy beverages, and I obliged). Colin put us to work doing course taping and reg-related stuff. It was raining lightly, but not too hard, which meant that, beyond being wet and gunky, the course pre-rides were OK. I was really psyched about the barrier section involving momentum--score! I was also psyched about the fact that crossresults seeding resulted in me being assigned bib no. 13. I'm a total dork, but I've been wanting to do this ever since I watched Transition:


Photo by Chris Gagne

I did two brief bike washes before the race, and by the time we staged, the course was even more disgusting. Even though I like mud, I figured I was pretty hosed since Meredith Miller had preregistered AND Lyne Bessette showed up on the day of, so my plan was to ride as technically solid a race as I could and have a good time. I lined up in the second row behind Miller. There was a little chit-chat about primes, during which Anna Barensfeld threatened to downgrade to Cat 4 because she wanted the Moka pot, and then we waited for the whistle and we were off into the mud and darkness. Being behind Miller was the right decision--I found myself having the best start I've had all year, and was pretty much just floating into the mud. Plus, the inevitable pain of the start was also diffused by the hundreds of shiny glowsticks hanging off of the course tape in the first few turns. Wheeee!

I think I picked up a few spots going over the first bump, and by the time I reached the lighter side of the course, near the barriers (which were so much fun OMG), Colin was yelling, "Christine, you're DEEP IN THE MONEY!" OMG. Money! After that, I honestly spent most of the race enjoying the course and trying to continue not sucking, because I was holding my own in the mud and it was pretty awesome.


Photo by Chris Gagne

At some point I ended up on Frances Morrison's wheel--given that she was wrecking me at Verge races last year, I was pretty psyched. She crashed out in front of me, I went around her, and started chasing Alex Jospe. Holy awesome! I got by her and then she got the spot back and surged ahead.

Then, near the end of lap 3 or 4, Frances caught up to me and went around, along with another rider. We went through the start/finish together but I couldn't keep up. I spent the rest of the time trying to hold off Elizabeth White, but fatigue finally destroyed my handling. I crashed, then she kicked and got around me. When I got to the last half of the last lap, my friend Jen O'Donnell from CB was close behind me, so I tried to keep it as clean as possible and made it over the line in front of her with eight seconds to spare. Also, we were both comfortably on the lead lap with Miller... and in the money!



Getting my first-ever elite payout and having a ton of fun doing it was pretty awesome. Hanging out with a bunch of good friends on a Wednesday night was pretty awesome too. I got home after midnight, but it was totally worth it. Work the next day found me happily wearing last night's glow bracelets. Night Weasels: like my clubbing days, but better.

Sucking the Blunt: Blunt Park CX Race, 22. August 2010

Sunday's outing at Blunt Park in Springfield marked my first real 'cross race of the season (sure, the EFTA Big Ring Rumpus was awesome, but it took place in early June, was over an hour long, and didn't include any dismounts, so it doesn't quite count as a 'cross race). More importantly, it was my first 'cross race in the new crossresults.com team kit.

Back in June I made a decision to join up with some fellow geeks at crossresults.com for the fall season, and I haven't regretted it (yet... ask me in December). It's really fun to be teammates with folks who share my deep-seated passion for INTERNET! and terrible puns. Case in point: over the week leading up to the race, e-mails were flying back and forth on the team mailing list, as we all tried to come up with as many seventh grade-style "blunt" jokes as possible.

Anyway, I was pretty excited about rocking our new Squadra kit, because (a) it looks awesome and (b) it involves a pair of bib shorts that actually grip my "oh my God you're tiny, are you SURE you're a bike racer?" legs. SPEAKING OF AWESOME: my friend Aumiller, who also was at Blunt, gifted me the most awesome pair of tall socks ever. They say "I'M WITH AWESOME." Aums quipped that perhaps I shouldn't wear the socks that day... because, say, what if I *wasn't* awesome? False advertising would, like, totally suck.



Apparently Aums is a clairvoyant, because I really wasn't with Awesome during most of the race. I lined up in front, but didn't react quickly enough at the start, and got bogged down behind almost all of LadiesFirst. Caught up to Giulia of Central Wheel, passed her in the first barrier, and battled her for a while on the first lap, but crashed myself out as she got away. D'oh! Then I was chasing another woman who kept remarking to her friend on the sidelines, "Auggggh, she's sticking to me like PEANUT BUTTER!" Ever the ambassador of the fledgling crossresults.com brand, I coolly replied, "Damn right I am!" and then promptly lost my hold on her in, like, the next lap.

I did manage to keep the racer who was chasing me behind me, and finished in the top half and on the lead lap, which is much better than I did at Blunt last year (remember that chick in green who was shouldering her bike for 3/4 of a mile after getting a mechanical in a crash? Oh right, that was me), but still isn't slaying by any stretch of the imagination. But hey, IT'S AUGUST. Colin always says that it's OK to suck on Saturday as long as you don't suck on Sunday. I say it's OK to suck in August as long as you don't suck in September. We'll see how that works out.

race report: NBX Day 1 (Verge NECCS #13), 5. December 2009

Check it, yo: at some point my superstitious tendencies are actually correct. Race No. 13 of the Verge Series found me bogged down at the start, trying to make it up on the hole shot/run-up (definitely NOT my favorite course design of the season), crashing out halfway through the first lap on some slippery/grass mud that wouldn't ordinarily give me trouble, then having a terrible time remounting, then trying to make up ground before the start of lap 2.

Shortly after hitting the dirt singletrack, I noticed that my chain was coming off, and when I tried to pedal it back on to save time, it ended up getting further screwed up. Suddenly, I heard a clinking noise--the chain had sheared off my derailleur hanger with it. FUN!

Instinctively, I ran to the pit, but entered at "pit pass" instead of the actual "pit entrance." David, bless his heart, met me at the pit, and we decided that the race was over as Mark, the pit mechanic, explained to me that I'd have to leave and reenter if I wanted to continue anyway. Yeah, given that the whole race had already gone by and sucking on Saturday is okay... notsomuch.

I spent the rest of the day of my first-ever CX DNF getting the preliminary fix (I have a spare der. hanger in my race bags) done at the pit, then getting the other stuff done at the shop. Turns out that the mechanical had also trashed the derailleur cage. Lesson learned: swap out my $10 derailleur hanger every few "expensive side" crashes to avoid having the hanger's weakness take the rest of my bike with it.

race report: Baystate Cyclocross Day 2 (Verge NECCS #12), 29. November 2009

OMGWTFSOBEHIND!!! on race reports.

Anyway. I was more than satisfied with the previous day's top 5 finish. When I pre-rode on the morning of Day 2, I was pretty sure that things weren't going to go as well. Instead of the awesome monster run-up, the course included a shorter run- or ride-up (I knew after the Cat 4s it would dissolve into sloppy mud ruts, and planned to run it) and a new detour into the woods over some roots.

However, the steps could possibly work in my favor, and the barriers would be great if I hit them with the right amount of momentum. For some reason I didn't feel as on top of things as I did the day before (probably sleepy), but I also didn't feel as much pressure, so that was good.

Coming through the hole shot, I was in about tenth, and as we went around the early turns I could see Emily Curley leading the race--awesome!! I worked to catch up to her and Sally; that eventually happened at the steps, where I sprinted by and then took my time remounting. Sally was a close contender but ended up crashing out in the barrier section--argh! I worked with Nancy and then ended up ahead of her.

The rest of the race was pretty magical: I was in the zone, and my head and legs knew what to do and were working together instead of fighting each other. Due to the fact that I was in the zone and reacting, and due to the fact that, um, a bit of time has passed since Sterling, I don't remember many other details from the race. I do know, however, that I made smart decisions at the obstacles, managed not to crash on the sketchy downhill after the run-up, stayed in the big ring for the entire race, and wrapped up 5th for the second day in a row. Elated!

upcoming: Ice Weasels!

Yes, I am behind on race reports, but first: check out this race on Saturday, because it was fun as hell last year and looks to be even more awesome this time around.

More details:

race report: Baystate Cyclocross Day 1 (Verge NECCS #11), 28. November 2009

When my coach and I were planning out the season, I knew I wanted both days of Sterling to be "A" races. I absolutely loved Baystate CX race last year--it was miserable (cold, with mud puddles and icy runups), but I happened to be super-mad that day, and I took that out on the course and shredded (by my standards at the time--it was the only top-half Verge finish I had all year).

I'm a lot happier overall this season than I was last year, and I also feel like I know my way around 'cross a hell of a lot better. So I was curious to see how Sterling would play out, and put my trust in the taper my coach assigned me. He and I had agreed that I could take the weekend beforehand off from racing, and this turned out to be crucial: I went from hating every pedal stroke (as I had at Mercer) to having fun on the bike again. And, by the time I pulled out of Wednesday night's practice race after doing my assigned 15-minute interval, I felt confident again.

I'd been flailing on asphalt for the previous two weekends, so the dirt track start at Sterling was a huge, huge bonus. I bobbled a little at the whistle, but quickly recovered and went through the hole shot somewhere in the top 10. After that was the hairpin turn and the runup. I saw Sally crash out and go over the tape just in time, shouldered, and managed to get a great line right up the middle of the hill, past the other girls who had opted to push their bikes. The front of the race (Julie, Emma, Catherine) was in sight as I remounted. Awesome. I spent the rest of the first lap chasing; I think this was where I managed to pass Emily at some point. Right after the beginning of the second lap, I was chasing Libby White. This was her debut race of the season, but she knows what she's doing on a bike: I attacked and made a move to pass her in the corner toward the runup; she immediately responded by finding the other line and passing me back. She pushed her bike up the run-up; I shouldered, passed, and used my momentum to get down the hill and to the horse jump with a gap.

I worked with Nancy for a bit, then managed to get in front of her with a gap, and kept hammering it open. Every time I looked back during the third lap I saw Erin Brennan behind me, and, as she'd kicked my butt at Gloucester and Casco Bay, I had a vested interest in beating her for once. Melissa Houde was right in front of me as we rolled out of the Gravel Turns of Death (TM) and back to the track--but I attacked too late and she got the sprint, decisively. I rolled over the line knowing I was top 10, and pretty happy with that... maybe 6th, 7th? When I finally saw the results, though, I felt like a zillion bucks. 5th in a fairly sizeable, difficult Verge field? UmmmHELLyeah. Not only that, but I couldn't believe that the goal my coach and I had planned the season around had actually been met. And to top it all off, Erin came over and called me "bitch" for beating her! It was pretty awesome.

super-belated race report: USGP Mercer Cup Day 2, 15. November 2009

So, USGP, part deux. Realized upon preriding that most of the previous day had not been rerouted. Gah!! Preriding mucked up my derailleur, bike, and drivetrain pretty badly. None of the bike washes were operational yet, so I ended up rinsing the bike by ferrying bottles of water from the restroom.

We lined up and once again, crappy start on the asphalt, then drilling it on the grass. I raced pretty well for the first few minutes, with Jess still in sight. Then, somewhere between having a hard time finding a freakin' line to ride, getting said line directly cut off by one of the juniors zooming from behind, crashing once or twice, and, on top of it all, coming off a week with no rest day... things started to suck. In truth, I hated almost every minute of that race, and was cursing being there, cursing the pounds of mud added to the bike, cursing trying to heave it through the slop and over the barriers, giving up on shouldering because the bike had gotten so heavy... yeah. I'm sure it was nowhere near as bad as Mercer was last year, but I was having a completely whinecore day, and breaking down mentally.

In the third lap I managed to fight a bit more, take charge and get back four or so places; one of these women, however, eventually passed me back about 400-600m before the finish. I was hating it so much at that point I literally said, "I don't care" as I saw her go off into the distance. Then another girl approached from behind and, miraculously, I did begin to care again. We entered the finishing straight and, after one of the worst races in recent memory, somehow laid down what was probably the best sprint of my season. It was not as decisive as the sprint at GMCX (where I already had a gap and was ripping it open), nor was it as elated as the sprint at Providence, because everything I had left went into it. Once I got off the bike, I couldn't even stand up straight.

THAT 30 seconds, I was proud of. The rest... notsomuch.

Still had a great time with friends after the race. Here's a photo of Jess and me (both of us elated to be freakin' done):



And on the way back to Boston, I stopped in NYC to visit an old friend from college. I love that after all these years, we still love hanging out on the roof:



I took the following weekend off racing and hey, guess what? Now I'm excited again.

super-belated race report: USGP Mercer Cup Day 1, 14. November 2009

This race report has been belated, partly due to my being busy, and partly because I don't have a huge amount to say about Day 1 of Mercer. Besides, any complaints not about the race itself have probably been covered by Mike already.

So other than that: at the start, I was still a little shaky from the crash at NoHo. Thankfully, Laura, who'd also gone down, had travelled down to USGP as well, and lined up with me. Still, though, I was staged in the back row, and also was a little timid due to the wet pavement. The second I went through onto the grass, though, I started drilling it and before I knew it, Jess and Kirsten were both in sight. This is pretty new for me. I managed to keep Jess in sight for half a lap, and Kirsten for a bit longer.

Second lap was a bit more difficult. Third lap, I was in race form again. I was battling back and forth with this girl Kathleen, and then ultimately got her on that lap. Finished 12th--right behind Kirsten (11th) and Jess (10th). I was reasonably happy with that, given that Jess and Kirsten usually have several more places on me.

Speaking of Jess--she is awesome. She and her husband, Vinnie, opened up their domicile (15 minutes from the venue!) up to some of us for the weekend. Jess and I hit it off at SpectaCross and hung out when she was up for G-star, so it was great to get to catch up with her. Also awesome to have a warm place to sleep, do laundry, and wash the bikes.

After post-race cleanup, Jess and I headed back to watch the pros before running errands. Here's our friend/results czar Colin duking it for out a couple laps after suffering a mechanical at the start:



And here is Geoff "I Took A Leak on the Sissy Line" Kabush, also throwing down after a mechanical knocked him out of third place:



Later, back at Chez Galatro, we hungry cyclists enjoyed a fantastic pasta dinner, a huge spread of dessert, and, despite (or perhaps because of) the collective biketardness, a bunch of excellent, entertaining conversation. Adam regaled us with crazy UCI stories, and Colin let us have first crack at the fantastically awesome crossresults T-shirts. Tiring morning, good evening.

race report: Cycle-Smart International Day 2, Verge NECCS #10, 8. November 2009

When we last left our intrepid hero, she was on this whole "tomorrow is another day" kick. BAHAHAHAHA... ominous foreshadowing!

Sunday was, of course, another early morning. I swung by Central to pick up Nancy, and we headed back to NoHo. I had already picked up Sunday's number on Saturday and pinned it, so all I had to do was warm up, stay fed and hydrated, and keep an eye out for any last-minute issues that might need to be tweaked on the bike. Ace! I ended up getting in 2.5 laps of warmup. The course was even more fun than Sunday (who could NOT be in love with that airborne jump off the railroad track? Seriously, I want to know) and I was excited.

I didn't consciously know that things were about to go south, but I think that there were signs of what was going to happen before it actually occurred. As I put on my racing socks back at the car, I started getting more superstitious than I usually do. 30 minutes later, as we stood waiting in the start box, the cub juniors had an awful crash in front of us. Right after they cleared him off the course, the whistle blew--definitely in keeping with the element of surprise that is supposed to characterize a cyclocross start, but also a bit creepy. Three seconds later, I saw wheels crossing to my right. The wave hit right in front of me and I got sucked into the bottom of the pileup, skidding out on my face. It took a couple seconds for the shock to wear off, and then I realized I wasn't seriously hurt, just pissed. I got up, grabbed the bike... and realized the back wheel wouldn't move. It had come partway out of the dropouts from the impact, so I fixed that. Still not moving. I shouldered and started running to the pit.

At this point Rob and Peter were standing on the sidelines at the hole shot area, asking if I needed anything, but I was apparently too busy screaming "mother*******" to notice. I'm not sure how I didn't get relegated, particularly since by this time the cub juniors were coming back around in the opposite direction and not only was I swearing bloody murder, I was doing so in front of, you know, THE CHILDREN. By the time Aumiller ran up to me, however, I was starting to come to my senses; he asked if I needed help and I yelled at him to meet me in the pit. The officials took pity on me (either that, or they were tired of the screaming) and let us go off the course in a non-pit area to look at the bike. Aumiller helped me calm down enough to realize that the chain was stuck behind the cassette. He gave it a good yank, the officials found a safe spot for me to re-enter the course, and I was back on my way... in DFL... hoping to God not to get lapped. I yelled some encouragement to Emily, who was still running, then flew around the rest of the parade lap as quickly as I could. When I passed Spaits and Rob et al. on the sidelines, they were yelling that if I stayed in it, I would catch girls. And you know what? I believed them.

I gritted my teeth while coming through the finish area, groaning inwardly at the fact that the real race was just starting. Then I heard Richard Fries calling me out for looking "fetching" in my kneesocks. Given that in the past he's typically called me out for my pain face, Fries calling me sexy was just one more indication that I was not having the best race day ever. But strangely enough, it cheered me up ("hey, if I can't be a winner, I can at least be a show pony, right?") and I attacked the first turn with venom. Much of the first lap was lonely, with me still chasing, but Aumiller and Nick showed up at the top of the hill and their encouragement kept me in it. Cathy, bless her, was also cheering. All of my friends on the sidelines were no end of awesome, and in the second and third laps, they turned out to be right: I started catching people. Anna... Julie... Katherine... Kristen... Jill.

Each time I caught someone, I felt more motivated and also more aggro, to the extent that I was practically hearing 2Pac in my head (NB: when I get pissy in races, my internal radio station starts playing "Hit 'Em Up") and thinking to myself about giving my competitors "the business." From a numbers perspective, I was doing much worse than usual; from an effort perspective, I was balls to the wall and it was GOOD. I spent a huge amount of time in the drops, looking ahead, and attacking. I was clawing my way back up (or, as Aumiller calls it, "clawing ass") and caring about every place I could move up and every second I could save. Near the end of the last lap, Jean was in sight and I was chasing her. I got close enough to have her in my crosshairs, but she held me off with a solid sprint.

I was chatting with David right after the race, still a little disoriented. When I reached down, unsteadily, to grab my bike, I realized my handlebars were wet. I'd been going so hard I'd drooled all over them. Fetching, indeed.

race report: Cycle-Smart International Day 1, Verge NECCS #9, 7. November 2009

My week leading up to NoHo was somewhat stressful. I was running on a sleep deficit and, as a result, found myself feeling uncharacteristically, genuinely whiny (most of the time, I'm just mock-whiny). LAME. It wasn't until Friday afternoon that the "OMG ! PSYCHED TO RACE! BRING ES!" feeling started to hit me. Unfortunately, this was still intermixed with "OMG! SO BUSY! AND SO MUCH STILL TO DO BEFORE I MUST WAKE UP AT 4:30AM TOMORROW!" Grah. I managed to get all the pre-race admin done, but, dude, some weeks I feel like I just need more hours in the day, and more freakin' sleep.

Aaaaaanyway. I had decided to drive to NoHo both days: carpooling back with Lodri on Saturday, carpooling both ways with Nancy on Sunday. So Saturday a.m. I was on my own. Sometimes a two-hour solo drive at the crack of dawn is actually what I need to get centered, so the journey to NoHo wasn't all that bad. Once I got there, it was, however, freaking COLD. I started setting up my stuff, decided to go with tights, and prerode. I practiced the start, but not full-bore (as the start was in reverse for the parade lap, and the rest of the race was actually running in the other direction, most riders warming up were going the opposite direction). I got in a lap or maybe two of the rest of the course. Then I pinned and did all of that garbage. Ahhh, yes, note my use of the word "garbage." Yes. At this point, mid-season ennui was catching up to me. This would be race number 18 of the year, and though I liked the course, I was starting to feel the length and weight of my season.

So, the start. Was front row but didn't get out as quickly as I'd have liked; fortunately, was able to drill it on the grass and get up into 13th or 12th or so. By the end of the parade lap or the beginning of the "real" first lap, I was beginning to regret my decision to wear tights, as they were heating the hell up. My frustration was only exacerbated when Richard Fries started calling out other chicks for wearing knee socks. "DAMMIT, I wish I were wearing my awesome socks right now," I thought to myself. And that wistful instance of passive vanity (yeah, it's bike racing, yeah, it happens, but still) pretty much sums up my level of motivation. I mean, it wasn't the worst race ever, from a mental perspective, but it certainly was not the best. One, I let Sally get by me as she drilled it through the sand pit. Two, BrittLee and I were battling it out as usual and this time she got by me. Three, I repeatedly got wicked bogged down in the sketchy corner after the cinder and Brett ultimately took that chance to get by me too (fortunately, I got her back later after she endo'd in the barriers).

On the bright side, I had some great efforts--for example, for the first lap or two, Tasha was right in my sights, and I did attack and counterattack quite a bit. But there were also points where I should have stuck to wheels harder, or attacked, and didn't or couldn't. I only finished 2:00 back from Frances... but on the downside, I finished 15 places back, in 16th. Yeah, the field was stacked; yeah, the dry, fast course didn't totally suit my abilities; yeah, I finished 11 places better than I did last year. Nonetheless, it was the first Verge race of the season in which I didn't meet my top 15 goal, and I was kind of pissed at myself for not drilling it more. "Tomorrow is another day," I kept telling myself. But I was soon to find out that, much like Rhett Butler, sometimes cyclocross frankly does not give a damn. TO BE CONTINUED...

race report: Canton Cup, 31. October 2009

Right now, it hurts to be me.

No, I'm not being emo--life is pretty sweet at the moment. The only problem is that my left shin is scraped to hell from Saturday's race and, well, it kinda hurts to wear jeans. And, as wearing jeans = me, from October - April, right now, it hurts to be me.

Soooo, Canton Cup. Was hoping to do well at this race; it was the first race that I really felt I did well at last year. What with the long, flat stretches and asphalt sections, Canton is a bit of a power course, but the turns and barriers break that up and that suits me fine. I was happy, on the pre-ride, to see that last year's back asphalt section had been re-routed to include a turn back through the woods over a log. Sweeeeeet. I was also happy to discover that the uphill before the low barriers that gave me such grief last year (I think I ran it, every time) was now totally rideable for me--no question.

The lap was pretty long, and I didn't have time to do more than one lap on the preride, so instead I decided to do some practice starts and dial in my gearing choice. This paid dividends--when we lined up, I had what was, for me, a near-perfect start--I surged up the hill in the lead and ended up through the hole shot a couple bike lengths behind the lead group of riders.


Photo by Geoff Martin

Arley's advice about cornering at last week's clinic really helped through the first turns. I was able to keep my speed up, and worked my way up near the leaders. I was sitting on 3rd's wheel (either Giulia or Laura) on the way up to the doubletrack turn... and then I bounced off of it and off to the side of the course. DAMN, THERE WENT THE PODIUM, I thought (yeah, this type of mental breakdown... stuff I'm still working on). I got back on as quickly as I could, but the crash happened in the worst possible spot and, by the time I collected myself, at least five more riders had passed me. I scrambled to get back up and passed more people in the turns... still not enough. Though I had the inaugural crash of the day, I didn't have the last one--I could see pileups happening in the chicanes. Then when we came onto the wooded asphalt section, Leah crashed out. I was able to get around and catch on the chase group as they went up the hill to the short barriers. I started working on those girls again. We came out of the barriers, hit the chicanes and the runup (nailed it), and then we were on the track and I busted ass to get up to Sally and BrittLee. Unfortunately, BrittLee bogged down in the corner in front of us; I think it was soon after that that Sally and I got around her, and then I was drafting Sally up the hill through the finish area. We only had one lap to go at this point--WHAT!??! It's true the lap was long, but it still felt like we were just settling in.

Anyway, sometime in the first half of the second (and final!) lap, I passed Sally. Then, as I was coming out onto the wooded asphalt and thinking, "OK, take this corner smart, and don't crash out," I leaned a little too much, and crashed right out. Sally came past me, I righted myself quickly enough to get back behind her but not quickly enough to pass back, and then headed into the turn with the log.

After all the early mistakes, the rest of the race was pretty clean and solid. Sally stayed away to get 5th and earn a well-deserved upgrade point; I turned in a decent sprint and held on to 6th. While the race could have gone better had I not crashed, I still improved last year's finish by ten places (16/37 last year, 6/37 this year). Not too awful, at all, and at least the blood on my shin looked kind of hardcore. This, of course, brings us back to the bit about how it hurts to wear pants right now. Fortuitously, I had packed a skirt to wear post-race, as it was going to be warm and "dressing like a woman" was a good standby "costume" for lazy-ass me (hey, the people who know how I roll at 'cross races thought it was funny). Also, Canton has showers, so I got in there and scrubbed the wounds out (yeah, yelping a little, but what can you do?), then kept 'em covered in tall socks for the rest of the day. WIN. No, wait... 6th.

race report: DCCX, 25. October 2009 (Spank Me Sunday #4)

My good friend and former teammate Ken has been living in the DC area since last August, and he offered me a standing invitation to come down, visit him, and do a 'cross race. I believe his exact words were more along the lines of "come down and beat up on some MABRA girls." Since violence obviously appeals to me, and since Wilcox had said good things about DCCX, I thought I'd try my hand at that race. I was excited about racing out of town, so much so that when I wrote up my training calendar with my coach, I designated DCCX as an "A" race.

Just one problem, though--when BikeReg for the event finally opened up, I scanned the registration page and realized that they were grouping the 3s with the elites instead of the 4s. At that moment, I could already feel the pain (not to mention, the DEFEAT, oh my God, the defeat) set in. However, it was also noted on the registration page that the Cat 3 results would be subset, with prizes 5 deep. This was a huge tipping point for me--I'd get the opportunity to race against and learn from the really fast chicks, but the results of this experiment would be measured against those of others in my category. I decided to give it a go.

DC-area racer Arley Kemmerer put on a free skills/course intro clinic the day before the race; this was infinitely helpful. We went over the entire course, she had interesting ideas about pretty much every corner, and, best of all, we got to practice the start about five times, which was great since starts are not exactly my strong suit. When I rolled up to the line on Sunday, I was in the correct gear and, though I was nervous about the imminent handing of my ass to me by various 1 and 2 chicks, I was in the right gear and excited to get on the course. After the whistle I managed to clip in, get up the hill, and bounce up on to the grass about mid-pack. It was the hardest and best start I've done all year, and I managed to up the ouch factor by holding on. I was hurting but holy God, I wasn't getting dropped right away the way I was at QuadCross--I was ACTUALLY IN IT. So painful, but so exciting. Of course, as the pain worsened, the excitement turned to fear and nausea, and as we went across the asphalt and back up onto the grass, I had serious doubts about making it through the entire race at that pace. Kept hanging on and staying with people, until the barriers, when Christina Briseno stalled in front of me, I accidentally clipped her coming through, and she started swearing. SHIT, second elite race and I pulled a total n00b move.

While Christina and I went back and forth for the rest of that lap, I started questioning whether I belonged there, and eventually, she pulled away. For the next two laps, I sat in against the pain and worked on keeping Heidi Goldberg (Cat 1 road racer for Kenda, but new at 'cross) behind me. I worked on using momentum, and I was able to do it on this course like I never had before--there was one tiny hill that I kept bombing up when others were falling back. Then Heidi got away from me. Gah! New goal--okay, same goal I had at the start of the race--was not to get lapped by the leader. Meanwhile, while worrying about Arley lapping me, I was lapping some of the Cat 4 women. By splitting the fields the way they did, the promoters attracted a variety of category and ability levels, including a lot of beginners--75 total women, said the announcer--and that was pretty awesome.

The start of lap 4 was excruciating, but once I hit the brick section in the woods the "oh shit" factor turned to "only 1.5 left to go, and still on the lead lap! Woo-hoo!" It was at some point during the beginning of lap 5 that I realized I was actually NOT going to get lapped by Arley. Holy awesome. Stupidly, I relaxed a little. And then... I saw the girl advancing behind me, heard her friends cheering for her (Becca), thought maybe she was a 3 in my race, and wanted to hold her off. "Gaps don't close in cyclocross, they only open," I heard Myerson saying in my head for the umpteenth time, and through the barriers and into the latter half of lap 5, I worked on hammering out that gap again. Owwww. I struck a balance between teasing out space between us and not making stupid mistakes that would crash me out and close the gap. My last barrier sequence was perfect, and I finally nailed the muddy ride-up that I'd been dismounting and running in each of the other laps. I was ass-tired but I kept upright and kept Becca behind me. Once we went through the start and got back on the grass, I used my momentum to get me up the small hill again, then came back down around the turn, sprinted up the asphalt toward the line, and called it a day.

Though I held Becca off, it became apparent she was a 4 and not actually in my race, and I was pretty convinced that, even though I hadn't been lapped, I was DFL. I was wiped, felt like crap, and was basically ready to collapse and cry. I went to Ken's team's tent and put my bike down. The silver lining was Ken had brought draft root beer with sugar in it instead of corn syrup, which was awesome because it meant I could actually consume it (my body and high fructose corn syrup are sworn enemies). So grabbed a root beer from the cooler, started downing it... and then realized halfway through that I was drinking an IBC. Corn syrup city. SHIT. Not only had I just sucked ass at elite racing, but I was about to be in a world of pain. I gulped down some water and decided that, since it was possibly only a matter of time before total stomach shutdown, that I should spin my legs out a bit.

I spun around a bit, then headed over to check the results. Miracle of miracles! I had finished 16th--squarely in the bottom half of the field, but decidedly NOT dead last. They had not subset the Cat 3s in the results, but I was holding on to hopes of, like, squeaking into 5th for the 3s, so I decided to check back in a bit. Sure enough, the next time I wandered back to the results, the 4 podium was going on, and then I heard names being called for the Cat 3 podium, mine among them. OMG! PRIZES! I ran over to the AABC tent, grabbed my camera, and found Ken. We headed back to the podium just as they were starting the awards. They called up someone for 4th... then 3rd... and I was getting confused because my name had been among those called over originally, but they weren't calling me up. Then they called up 2nd. Still not me. There was only one spot left. OH. WOW. It was at this point that I turned around and looked at Ken in disbelief, much like some character in one of those terrible tearjerker sports films my dad used to watch when I was a kid. Then the announcer said, "And all the way from Somerville, Mass..." and called my name. Twenty minutes ago I thought I was the Sultana of Suck, and now they were letting me stand on top of the box!!! Yahtzee!



In my total biketardedness (which is probably evident given how much I've whined about the race, and how sweaty I look in the podium picture), I jumped on the podium before grabbing the prize pack, but luckily someone who had their wits about them gave it to me before I ran off without it. Of course, this meant that I stupidly wandered off holding the prize pack but leaving my bike at the podium. All I can say is, thank God this was DCCX and not Hartford 'cross. Anyway, I successfully retrieved the bike, we packed up, and when Ken and I got back to his place, I dumped out all the schwag from my prize pack...



Holy wow, does DCCX know how to make a girl happy. They gave me a ton of stuff, everything was thoughtful and awesome, and everything was my size. It's obvious the promoters cared a lot about getting women to come out for this event--I was touched.

Also of note: winning the Cat 3 obviously made me feel better about the race overall, but there were some other improvements for me in that race. At one point I passed someone and instinctively threw my elbow out to defend the move; at other times I was using momentum to get up that hill when my reserves were depleted. So, even at the bottom half of the field, I managed to come up with some confidence and that was awesome. The race start, the finish sprint, and the general aggressiveness are all things that I've been working this season with the advice and encouragement of my coach. So, a big, big thanks goes out to Cort for all of that.

Later that evening Ken, his teammate Steve, Steve's wife Jen, my friend Anna (who happens to live two blocks from Ken) and I met up at Quarry House for celebratory beers and great conversation. Anna got to experience cyclists in all their weirdness (you know, talking about food one second, Port-a-Johns the next, and unfortunate Spandex mishaps the third), but she totally rolled with it. Meanwhile, I was nursing the Pyramid Apricot Ales that I can't obtain up in New England, and soon, everyone was giggling.



Ken inevitably knocked back his fourth of five beers and demonstrated the universal hand signal for "bullshit."



It was an awesome weekend of friends and racing. DCCX and my Silver Spring homies do it right!

race report: Casco Bay Cyclocross, 17. October 2009

So remember how my last post mentioned cumulative pain? Yeahhhhh, about that. After three weekends of Verge NECCS doubles, I was pretty beat... but then my coach sent me an email about a Wednesday practice race.

Have I mentioned my coach yet? No? Well, in a nutshell, working with my new coach this season has been great. Not only has my racing improved a LOT, but so has my 'cross fashion. Said coach has helped me realize that there is absolutely no shame in wearing GoreTex windstopper-type pants--the stuff one of my teammates used to make fun of me for because he said it was drug dealer garb, a.k.a. "smack pants"--while doing a rainy day workout or, hell, even while pre-riding a race course on a clear day... but I digress.

Anyway, so he emails me about this practice race, and I go, and so does Kathy, and we attempt to throw down, only it's, like, us, maybe two Cat 4 guys, and a bunch of Cat 3 guys, so this doesn't work very well. However, she and I suffer through the entire race, which is like 45 minutes or whatever, while a bunch of the other folks are jumping in and out... so there's that dignity, at least. The race is dark, but it's also pan-flat and mostly grass or decent dirt, so I spend the entire evening in my big ring--awesome for me as I am NOT a power rider. I also pretty much shred the barriers every single lap, which is double-awesome, but by the time I return home my eyes are all but rolling back in my head, and the next morning during my running workout my legs feel like they're carrying as many sandbags as a certain Cat 3 men's Verge NECCS leader. Ouch! Friday's short roller session doesn't completely get the lactic acid out, either.

So come Saturday, the lead is not yet out, and it is cold to boot (but thankfully, dry), and I am in the car stressing out over a number of other important life decisions, like music selection and when to crack the seal on my peanut butter and honey sandwich. The drive up I-95 to Portland is gorgeous, however--bright sunshine, changing leaves, the works. When I get to the venue, I pit my wheels, pin, throw my smack pants over my skinsuit, and check out the course.

It's a short asphalt uphill start that turns right onto some grass, then back onto asphalt. As I roll along the top of the park in my hoodie, jacket, and baggy pants, waiting for people to come ask me if I'm selling crack, I note that this is going be a power section. Course turns down again, loops, then back up onto some off-camber, blah blah blah. A lot of grassy corners (which, after my attempts to shred on Wednesday, I could probably do in my sleep from here on out), several steep run-ups, some bumpy doubletrack descents, some barriers, and then, holy hell, this gravelly, sketchy singletrack descent on the side of a hill, where if you slide the wrong way, you fall the frak off and plummet to your season's untimely end. I make a mental note to myself that I REALLY do NOT want to be behind anyone in this section.

After the perusal of the course, I stay warm by riding back and forth along the bike trail by the bay, which makes me look like even more of a drug dealer. I spot a docked cruise liner and, um, I must be burned out or something, because I begin fantasizing about not showing up at the race and, instead, sneaking aboard the liner and gorging myself on shrimp cocktail at the inevitable buffet. "Yeah... I could really go for some cocktail sauce... or perhaps some tartar": NOT what one wants to be thinking prerace, but I'm sure--no, I know--that I've thought dumber things. Hell, I have SAID dumber things. Um, anyway, where were we? Oh right--smack pants and shrimp cocktail, awwww yeah.

At long last, the dreaded/appointed hour draws near, and I roll my smack dealer ass on up the hill toward the staging area. There are only a handful of women racing--three in the 1/2/3 field, and five of us in the 3/4 field. I know, from my copious stalkage of crossresults.com, that Erin and Olivia are the ones to follow. Sure enough, 30s after the 1/2/3s are off and they start us, Olivia and I are jockeying for the hole shot and then I'm chasing her and Erin on the power section. I lose them for a bit, but then they have a hiccup or two at the top of a runup and I catch them again. Then my cumulative pain accrues as Erin and Olivia slip away from me in the corners. Ouch ouch OUCH. I hear one of Adam Myerson's mantras, "Gaps don't close in cyclocross, they only open" in my head, and there it is, happening in front of me. So I work harder to also make it happen behind me. I can still see Lauren from Colby coming through the turns about 15-20s behind me, but I want to gap her out and keep the final podium spot, so for two laps, I put my head down and ride my own race. By the end of lap 3, I see Steph Chase from IBC, who beat me to a pulp both days of Green Mountain and started with the 1/2/3 women, in the distance. I decide that, since I can no longer see Olivia or Erin, Steph is my rabbit/carrot/whatever, and plan to attack her on the final lap.

Unfortunately, when I roll up past the lap cards, no one's ringing bells at me. The USAC officials are sitting around and the lap count says 2 to go, not 1. Oh right... it can't be over already, because we were doing 40 minutes, not 30, of racing, owwwwwww. I mentally regroup for a second, and then look up at Steph at the top of the park and start going for it. All through that lap, I follow her and work on closing the gap between us. I'm still behind her as we go into the sketchy hairpin dirtclod turn. but immediately after that is the scary singletrack, so I sprint past on the grass because I wanted first dibs on the sketchfest. Once I get safely down, I power along the gravel, go hot into the turn before the final runup of the lap, and then... crash. Oh hai, right, gravel = nemesis, did we learn nothing in practice? Fortunately (?) I'm semi-upright and still clipped in, so, though Steph passes me and gets away on the runup, I'm still close behind.

The beginning of lap 5 was a lot like 4, with me following Steph. I'm almost caught up to her when we hit the first runup, and almost get her on the run, but she powers up. So I make my move on the remount instead, and zoom ahead on the inside even though I only have one foot in. I'm working on the gap and trying to clip in simultaneously--fun for the whole family!--but somehow, it works, and I keep her behind me for the rest of the lap, managing to neither fall down the mountainside on the singletrack nor crash on the gravel before the final runup. Yahtzee! By the final runup of the final lap, I've finally figured out to keep the bike in the big ring because there's a downhill right after the runup anyway, and since I'm not worried about THAT, I dull the pain of the runup by thinking of all the runups I did in practice to perky Michael Jackson songs. WHY DO THEY NOT FEEL THE SAME OMG? Whatever. I get to the top, blast cautiously back down (there's gravel at the bottom of the slope before the turn back onto the asphalt, and we knowwwww by now how I am with turns on gravel), then do the final climb, sprinting and wheezing.

I'm walking around still breathing heavily, and one of the marshals asks if I'm "going to die." I respond, "nah, I'm just being dramatic" and 30 seconds later, I collapse on the grass and wait for number 4 to roll in. Then I hang out with Erin and Olivia for a bit. Also, my vanity gets the better of me, and I opt to NOT wear smack pants during the podium presentation:


Putting the "um" in "podium."

In sum: this race was small, but terrific. The course was fun, the surrounding area was beautiful, and the organizers were total sweethearts. Highly recommended for anyone looking for local races next year!

race report: Providence Festival of Cyclocross Day 2, Verge NECCS #6, 10. October 2009

When I rose at an ungodly hour on the morning of Day 2, it was cold but clear. I shuffled around half-groggy, half-on a race day adrenaline kick, loaded the car, and headed off. Just south of Boston, the sun was rising over the water and everything was orange and gorgeous.

Upon arrival at Roger Williams Park in PVD, it was still chilly. I decided that the weather called for a skinsuit (yay!) and kneesocks. I met up with Kathy and we hit the course for a warmup lap. It was a bit different than the day before, with some interesting technical twists. In particular, the course featured a "bowl" section, just over halfway through, that you had to bomb down and bomb back up (or, if you failed at the latter, scramble up on foot). Then, just off to the left of the staging area (if you were facing the finish), the course featured a few more interesting twists and turns. One in particular was a short, steep drop into a 180 with loose ruts at the bottom next to the tape. This caused a lot of people to scratch their heads on the preride... some guys were able to successfully preride it. It was sketchy, though, and I had visions of crashing into the tape and losing 10-30 seconds... so I decided to run it. Also on the same side was an uphill stairs section; the stairs were placed perfectly and you could dismount right into them with terrific momentum. Rawr!

I did well in the initial part of the start and then found myself drifting back near the top of the hill, so once we hit the grass I was fighting for spots again. Grah. Cathy had a fantastic start and was in second or third for a while (I think?) but when she drifted back I found her and followed her. I worked my way past her and then heard Leah on my tail--she was having an amazing race. There was a ton of traffic in the first lap, and we kept getting bogged down in corners. The pain also started to hit me. And it wasn't just the pain of the race itself, it was the pain of the last day of three consecutive weekends of doubles. It was as if I could feel the previous five races all at once.

There are times, however, where the switch on my cumulative pain flips over and the agony becomes almost spiritual. Of course in a race it's a bit grittier and messier than that, but whenever I think of it later, I'm like, "damn, that hurt, and then I made it hurt more." I think that was what happened on Day 2: I hurt, I felt like it was going terribly... and then I decided I could make it hurt more. On the second lap, things smoothed out traffic-wise, but I was still chasing a woman in an unmarked jersey, Nicole, who kept bogging down in the turns. I think I finally passed Nicole on a remount (?) and then gunned for Laura Kozlowski next.

Halfway through the third and final lap, I was finally in front of Laura. Then, just as I was embarking onto the nervewracking hairpin turn before the bowl section, I heard my friend Seth from CB screaming, "You're top ten!" followed by the ubiquitous RMM yelling, "hey, HERE'S an idea! Why don't you ride faster and open up a gap?!" It was exactly the right sequence of heckling--like, "hey, you're doing great, now do better, stupid!"--and suddenly, there was a raging fire under my ass. I let out a roar (literally, and, sadly, a little late for Jungle Cross), dropped down into the bowl, and nailed the ride up to the other side (I hadn't quite managed it on the previous laps). Dove back down, past a cheering Seth, into the hairpin turns and let the nausea pile on up as I worked on keeping Laura behind me. I felt pretty wrecked, but I wanted that top ten, goddammit, and I blasted through the rest of that course like I meant business. When I hit the tech section near the finish, I had a gap, but I scrambled up the hill and passed a junior to put someone else between my wheels and Laura's. Then I concentrated on not screwing up, took a better line on the roots before the asphalt than I had previously, and, once I hit the asphalt, sprinted my ass off, and finished with a grin on my face.

Of course, as you can see in this photo by Geoff Martin, I owe it all to the crazy socks:

I can't tell whether the somewhat dubious onlooker is a hipster or someone from Back Bay Bicycles--perhaps both?

Anyway, the race was great, and I then spent the rest of the morning harass--err, heckling the masters field with Linda, Karen and Kathy.

race report: Providence Festival of Cyclocross Day 1, Verge NECCS #5, 10. October 2009

Since people have been demanding that I update my blog with race reports from last weekend, here goes. (NB: by "people" I mean "Lodri," but she's rad so her opinion counts for, like, that of two people.)

To be honest, much of Day 1's race at Providence is kind of a blur--but not because I was fast. It was raining when I left Boston and muggy and warm (for October) when I arrived in PVD shortly after 7:30. I got a quick loop of the course in, and then went to do pre-race stuff. Decided to stay with short sleeves, given the weather.

Lined up for an uphill asphalt start that took a sort of sharp right up a curb--there was a block in between the curb and the asphalt, but you had to hit it right. This was kind of intimidating, but once I got through the entrance (with a glut of people in front of me) I worked to pick some others off. I found Cathy's wheel again, buried myself there, and got past. Inadvertently got in her way when people started dismounting in front of me on one of the steep MTB-type climbs--d'oh. Eventually lost her and focused on getting past Sally and Emily Curley. I was chasing Sally on the gravel near the lake; not sure about Emily.

If the rest of what I remember from Day 1 is correct--and it probably isn't--the race hurt too much and not enough, simultaneously. Or maybe, it hurt in the wrong ways. I think my lungs were killing me, and that's usually not the case. I used to be a runner, so on the bike, my legs tend to go first but I can still breathe. Um, notsomuch on Saturday. I was juuuust about to finish in front of Sally and Emily and then they both passed me in the tech section before the final sprint. D'oh. Finished respectably--13th out of 44--but not ecstatic.