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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.
Sunday, December 27, 2009
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!
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!
Thursday, December 10, 2009
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:
More details:
Monday, November 30, 2009
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.
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.
Friday, November 27, 2009
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.
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.
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.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
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.
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.
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