Utah Cyclocross Series Final (Dec. 6, 2008)
In a previous report, I described how Roanne's second ride on her new cyclocross bike took place while participating in the Women's C race at the Utah State Cyclocross Championships. She got out for two more rides the week after that initial foray into the land of barriers and cowbells, and upon returning from an extended trip to Seattle and Arizona she decided that her fifth ride on her new bike would be best utilized by upgrading to the Women's B division and racing in the final event of the Utah Cyclocross Series. I wholeheartedly agreed, so the night before we tuned up the bikes, packed our gear, and prayed for overnight rain or snow.
Much to our dismay, we woke up at 7:30am on Saturday morning to clear blue skies. Quietly stifling our disappointment (come to think of it, Roanne didn't seem all that disappointed), we shoveled down the cyclocross power breakfast (1 cup cooked oatmeal, 1 banana, 8 oz. plain yoghurt, 2 tbsp raisins, 3 tbsp wheat germ, 8 oz. orange juice, and black coffee), jumped in PT (purple truck) and headed south for Draper (about 20 minutes south of SLC) where the race was being held on the grounds of an equestrian center. We arrived with about an hour to spare before the start of Roanne's 9:30am start time, and had plenty of time to get signed in, double check the bikes, and pre-ride a lap of the course. Here is a photo of Roanne all kitted out and ready to go hop some barriers. Note that the PT racing team vehicle is not quite as elaborate as the Canyon Bicycles Racing set-up (to the left), but it is much more tasteful.
The pre-ride went well, and this course was far more entertaining than that of the last race we did at the State Championships. That race was mostly on grass and dead flat, while this one had some significant climbing and a lot of singletrack. After the pre-ride lap, Roanne rode down to the start and I changed back into my civilian clothes and walked to the start to watch. Upon arriving at the start, I found Roanne on the very last row of the 25-30 ladies in the Women's B flite, nervously eying all the professional-looking ladies in skin suits and listening to their chatter about recent racing exploits. To rectify this situation, I delivered a memorable pep talk in which I assured her that she was faster then all of them, and admonished her to push her way up to the front row and rip their legs off as soon as the gun went off. Roanne nodded her assent, and sidled up a few positions on the right of the field. At 9:30am the gun fired and they were off, Roanne is the blue streak on the left of the picture:
On the climb Roanne worked her way up to around mid pack, but then slipped back a few positions as everyone crowded into the first corner. By the time she reached the sandy run-up half way through the first lap, she had settled into a chase group of about 5 ladies. Here is a sequence of Roanne putting her Waterloo cross country skills to use, coupled with flawless barrier technique:
After the first lap, Roanne seemed to have settled into a good rhythm and started picking off racers and moving up through the field. Here is a sequence of her catching and passing one of the skinsuit-clad divas on the pavement climb:
By the second lap the race was pretty broken up, and Roanne was riding alone but still pushing the pace. Here is a shot of her winding through the scrub oaks on the sandy singletrack:
And one of her vaulting the barriers leading into the run-up:
And one of her making her way up the run-up for the final time, hup hup hup!!!
And here she is rounding a corner on the pavement before dropping onto the backside of the course. Notice the ever-present smile, this is not a normal facial expression for cyclocross racing but somehow Roanne seems so thoroughly delighted all through the race that she can't suppress her happiness. This is either a testament to (1) Roanne's natural good humour, or (2) to the virtues of cyclocross racing: you might be suffering like a dog, but it is so stinkin' fun that you can't help but break out in laughter and shrieks of joy. All the same, if she can do this well while smiling and laughing, imagine how well she could do with tightly clenched teeth and a steely, determined gaze!
Roanne's group had been scheduled to complete 4 laps of the course for about 40 minutes of racing (a big step up from the women's C class where they only race for 20 minutes), but as she was climbing the pavement hill at the end of her third lap she was passed by the leader of the Men's C division (they had started 2 minutes ahead of the women's B class and were on the course at the same time) which meant that she was not obligated to complete her fourth and final lap. This was a bit of a disappointment for her as she had been feeling more comfortable on the course as the race wore on, and was steadily gaining ground on the racers in front of her. Here she is out of the saddle and hammering up the climb towards the finish:
Despite this minor disappointment it was a great race for her, she finished up about mid pack in 17th, which was an excellent result after having just upgraded from the C division and in only her second race. After Roanne warmed down and changed, we hopped in PT and headed back to our house for some down time before my race which started at 1:30pm. Upon arrival at 1337 Harrison, Roanne showered and ate some celebratory post-race waffles, while I ingested some plain, cooked pasta with no sauce and lay on the couch (my pre-race fueling habits are painstakingly modeled after a certain Sven Nys, a.k.a. the cannibal). At around 12:00pm I roused myself from the couch and donned my cycling shorts and Belgian Knee Warmers. Pardon? "What are Belgian Knee Warmers", you ask?
Well, in Belgium (the cyclocross heartland, and the place where they invented mud) most of the racing (both fall cyclocross races and the spring classics on the road) takes place in cold, wet, dismal conditions. To address this situation, many unknowing cyclists would be tempted to don tights, or at the very least, kneewarmers. However, Belgian hardmen are not inclined towards public displays of weakness, so instead they apply invisible belgian knee warmers by rubbing ointment called embrocation on their lower legs. Embrocation is an oily cream with a texture similar to hand lotion; when it is rubbed into the skin it leaves behind an oily sheen (very disheartening for your competitors, as you flex your shiny calves while launching attacks on the cobbles) and imparts a warming feeling to your muscles, not unlike tiger balm. It also smells good. To give you an idea of what I am talking about, below is a photo of Belgian Knee Warmers being put to good use by Sven Devolder as he attacks the Koppenberg during his race winning move in the 2008 edition of the Ronde van Vlaanderen (also known as the Tour of Flanders by all those unfortunate souls who don't speak flemish):
Anyways, sunny and dry Utah is not the ideal embrocation test bed, but after 9 races in a row without a drop of rain I was desperate to don my BKW so on they went. We arrived back at the race venue around 12:45pm, and I kitted up and jumped on my rollers to start my warm up. Much to my dismay, after about 15 minutes my front tire started going flat. There are ubiquitous thorns in Utah called goat heads, which are very well adapted to giving flat tires to bicycle racers, and it seems that I had picked up a few of these while out warming up with Roanne before her race. To deal with goat heads, most racers in Utah use "slime tubes", which contain some green goop that is supposed to seal small punctures before your tire can go flat. I had been using slime tubes but apparently they were not doing their job, as upon removing my tire from the rim I found a rapidly deflating tube with green slime spewing out of it. To make matters worse, my spare wheelset also had a front flat and since they are tubulars I was not able to patch them. After a few moments of panic, one of my team mates (Nick) walked by and offered to lend me his front wheel (he had raced earlier in the day in the Men's B Division). Whew!
Feeling very relieved, I installed Nick's wheel and rode a lap of the course to finish my warm up before heading down to the start line for the 1:30pm start of the Men's A field. I lined up on the second row after they called up the front runners, prudently slotting in behind the series leader, Bart Gillespie. However, it turns out that the fastest finisher doesn't always have the fastest start, and coming into the turn at the top of the first hill I was in about 12th or 13th position. The start is shown below from Roanne's vantage point up on a hill, in the picture on the right Bart Gillespie is the rightmost of the two riders in the green and purple kit and at this point I am still on his wheel.
During the first lap I was clinging onto a group of 4-5 riders, here we are heading up the run-up for the first time:
Here I am coming up the long pavement hill, fighting to hold the wheel of some skinsuit-wearing masochist:
After a couple of laps the group had broken up, and I found myself chasing in the company of a guy from Canyon Bicycles named Sean Hoover. I had finished just in front of him at all of the other A races that I had done this year, and from those experiences I knew that I was quicker through the technical sections than he was, but he was much stronger on the open road sections (in other words, he was just plain much stronger). All of the other courses I had raced on with this group had been very flat so it hadn't been as much of a problem, as I would open up a gap on the technical sections and then when he flew by me on the open sections I could put my forehead to the stem and get on his wheel, staying with him by exploiting his draft. However, on this course I could foresee that the strength discrepancy would be a bit of a problem, as the longest open section involved a significant pavement hill, and we all know that on the hills there is nowhere to hide. Nevertheless, we rode together for a few laps with me opening a buffer on the singletrack sections and then him closing it down on the road climb and blasting by as I fought to hold on his wheel. Here is a shot of us coming down a short, steep little drop followed by a sharp turn (this would have been pretty interesting if it had been raining):
Here is another one from our chase efforts, on a short uphill on the backside of the course:
Eventually our chase started to bear fruit as we caught and passed a few riders, including the Binghams rider on the right of this photo as we start the singletrack climb up towards the run-up:
Here I am gritting my teeth and trying to hold the gap as we emerge from another one of the singetrack sections, with Sean and the Binghams rider in the background:
On this lap I hadn't been able to open up much of a gap on the singletrack as I had been caught up behind the Binghams rider, so when Sean passed me at the start of the pavement climb and started mashing the pedals, I was only able to hold his wheel for about 20 seconds before my legs detonated and he opened up a gap. I wasn't able to bring him back during the remainder of this lap, so I just resigned myself to sticking it out by myself and trying to hold my position. Here I am on one of the downhill sections, with the Wasatch mountains peeking out on the background:
Below I am sailing around the high speed corner before the entrance to the sandy section that went through the stables:
And finally here I am on my last lap, entering the last section of single track (left) before gritting it out up the pavement hill to the finish (right):
I ended up finishing in 10th place, happy to (barely) crack the top 10 for the second time this season after moving up to the A flite. After returning Nick's wheel and changing clothes, we climbed into PT and headed north back to our house. I had been able to feel the effects of my belgian knee warmers to some extent before and during the race, but it was only upon sitting fully clothed in the heated car that I began to experience the full fury of the nuclear-hot embrocation. My legs were still flaming as I walked into the house and lay down on the couch, bracing for the onset of death belly while still feeling the wrath of the fire legs.