Riding Your Bike In The Grass.

 I didn't want to race 'Cross. I thought I had made that abundantly clear. Friends would ask me when I would finally cave in and try it, and I would usually respond with a concise list of reasons (excuses) why cyclocross was not worth my time.

It's cold.

It's often wet.

You have to get off your bicycle (something I am opposed to on principle). Sometimes more than once.

You will probably crash.

There is a strong likelihood that I won't win my first race. 

It's cold. 

Saturday, a perfect storm of inexcusable circumstances delivered me at my very first Cyclocross race.
1.) There was a bike provided by one of the main antagonists in my battle against the 'cross; Shopengarten. 

2.) I was in Town

3.) Someone told me that there would be beer, and also cake. (false) 

4.) Smith Anderson, legendary "Hell yes I'll try this incredibly taxing, potentially dangerous, arguably unpleasant activity," man, was also set to race his first 'cross race this weekend.

5.) I like bike racing.

Having a hard time with being out "Smithed," I finally relented.  

I drove to Look park with 'cross antagonist #2, AJ Moran. I say antagonist, but really it's more like cross supporter and enthusiast. AJ wanted me to try cyclocross because he loves it. Hopengarten (antagonist #1) wanted me to try cyclocross, it seems, only so that he could tell me how much better he is at it then I am.

I digress.

We arrive before the sun has decided to grace us with it's presence. It's cold (see reason 1& 6). AJ fixes my front brake which is rubbing, as I ask him about how not to look like I have never done this before. I remove the bottle cage which I had installed the night before. Apparently you are not allowed to stay hydrated during a cross race. With the bicycle in full working order, I set off to pre-ride the course with AJ. I practice dismounting (badly), jumping (also badly) and running (seriously) with my bicycle. Every time I do, I curse, and complain,  and think of my poor Cervelo sitting lonely in my girlfriends garage. 

One lap is about all I can afford to devote to warming up. I don't want to do the "run up" any more than I have to. 

I reported to staging; a cattle call. In Cyclocross, you are staged in order of a combination of your results, and when you registered. Because I had registered one hour before registration closed, and because this was my first race, I was placed dead last. 150th. This meant that I would have to pass the entire field to have a good result. I lined up among a sea of unshaved legs. Men in skinsuits and padded gloves. Mountain-bike shoes caked in mud from their last outing. I was in unfamiliar territory.  

The whistle blows, and we're off. The sound of the peloton is different, and unsettling.. and really slow. I'm caught up behind a tangled mess of humanity. I dropped the 'ol hammer, and picked up about 50 places in the opening straights. I noticed that the amount of shaved legs around me now out-numbered their hairy counterpart. I also noticed I stopped moving up with such ease. That and I had all but sprinting in the opening leg of the race and was now well in the top end of my limit. 

I continued slowly picking up places during the race. Then I would crash, lose 10 places, and then chase my original spot down. Crash. Sprint. Recover. Repeat. I will spare you the details of the entire race, as it does not deviate from this formula. 

Two fun things happened though: 1.) I was racing against a child who could not have been more than 13. He beat me. Badly.  2.) In the last quarter of the race, a guy, looking very dirty, shoots past me on a carbon Ridley.  I jumped on his wheel, and was determined not to let him beat me. He was steadily pulling away from me however, right up until we hit the tarmac. He started looking back at me, sizing me up, seeing if I was going to make a go of it. I was, and I did. As I came calmly around him for victory (48th), I had goosebumps. I will never tire of that feeling. Even if I was 5min slower than the winning group. 

While this write up is, without question or argument, a little on the harsh side; I still had fun. I like the idea of Cyclocross. It's racing for racing's sake, and that is an idea that I can totally get behind. I can say that I probably won't try it again... Until I try it again.