'Crossing in Chicago

After last week's race, I realized that, while I'm not the world's or even the region's fastest 'cross racer, there's no reason why I should be racing as a Cat. 4, stuck in the middle of huge fields and surrounded by amateurs who have never once raced in a CX race. I did pretty well as a 'crosser in 2005, with a couple decent results, so heeding the advice of Ben P. and my own ego, I put in a request to upgrade to Cat. 3 in 'cross on Wednesday. And last night, after a delicious, but decidedly bad pre-race dinner at one of Allison's professor's house, I found out that my upgrade request had been approved. Hooray for the ego and my own pride – but my legs and lungs better act the part.

So, this morning, I woke up bright and early and got all the gear together. Woke up Allison, and drove down to the first race of the Chicago Cyclocross Cup, held in beautiful Jackson Park in Chicago's south side. Got there in time to watch the master's race, and also caught most of the junior/women races as well. After they cleared the course, Ben, who had arrived with Julie, Amanda, and a cooler full of beer while I was watching the earlier races, joined me for a couple warm-up laps of the course.

The race course itself was fast, and emphasized straight-line speed and handling. One would start off on a tack between a soccer field and baseball diamond toward and up a small 'hill' that turned back down and then back up through two barriers. After weaving through some bushes, and onto and off of a sidewalk, one had to navigate a series of turns wrapped around these huge bush/tree things. Funny enough, that particular section was a replacement for a barrier that had apparently caused a fair amount of difficulty earlier in the masters' races. I don't know what kind of trouble, but yeah, I think I would have rather had a barrier than have had to swerve around some big ol' bushes.

Anyway, the course went through a wooded area near the parking lot and after a few switchbacks, it went down a small slope, back up, back down and then back up the slope, before heading down toward the start/finish line. Oh, can't forget to add that there was a barrier in the middle of that little sequence that forced one to run for an extended period with the bike shouldered. Additionally, this area was the one that made for the best spectating, with numerous crashes and near-crashes as the action heated up.

So, at 12:25 or thereabouts, me and Ben lined up with the our other fellow Cat. 3 racers and after a moment of silence for Pieter Ombregt, who had died a week or so ago in a tragic accident, we were off. I immediately started sliding backwards; my legs lacked the ability to sprint, something so necessary for a CX start. Since our field contained about 30 racers, I was still in the midst of a fair number of guys and I was feeling better as we made our way around the course. After the first lap, I was holding my ground at 15th place or so – not bad, but not good. However, coming down the slope toward the last barrier of the course, and right in front of a huge crowd, my bike slipped out from under me and I went down in a huge cloud of dust. Not a second later, I felt the unique feeling of a bike racer crashing down onto me. But like any hardcore (or stupid dedicated cyclocrosser) I got back up, mumbled an apology, and pulled my bike out from underneath the other racer. It turned out the guy dropped out of the race soon after our crash – I just hope he wasn't too seriously injured, but since I saw him a lap or two after the crash, I don't think he could be too bad off.

While I was only a little shaken- and banged-up from the crash, I became considerably more trepiditious through the rest of the race. I wasn't trying to pass other racers with the same gusto as I did before; I became much more interested in staying upright in the slick corners than I was with pushing the limits of my tires' adhesion. But since this was my first race as a 3, I thought it better to play it conservative and smart than try to shatter the field, which was Ben's job anyway. Helge kept me hydrated with hand-ups of Gatorade and Heed, which in today's sun and warmth, was a life-saver. Unfortunately, Helge couldn't help me fix my bike – the crash had tweaked my saddle in such a way, that the seatpost/saddle started slipping down into the frame AND at a strange angle. I couldn't get any power down without standing on the pedals, as my legs couldn't extend nearly as far as they could have with the height afforded by the then-slipping seatpost. Maybe I shouldn't have greased that post before the race...

So after sparring for a bit with a XXX racer on a singlespeed Bianchi, I rolled in by my lonesome at 19th. However disheartening such a result can be, I'm so glad that I had an army of Pegasi supporters cheering me on and screaming my name every single I came by. Amazing.

I can make excuses about today, but I just think that I was ill-prepared and overly cautious. I shouldn't have drank all that wine last night, nor eaten that canoli, but so what: I'm not getting paid to ride a bike, so why sacrifice so much? However, losing still sucks, no matter how you look at it, so I think now I might place a higher priority on eating better before races and perhaps even engaging in some mental/psychological preparation.

Ben came in 1st, which is fantastic and a great rub in the face of the official who denied him his upgrade to Cat. 2. The guy rode with anger today – which is always, always a beautiful thing.

After our race, I watched the Pro/1/2 guys duke it out and then checked out the melee of a race, the Cat. 4's. A whole slew of Pegasii, including a few from Milwaukee, rolled hard and put in good efforts. To put a capper on the day, I rolled back home on the LFP with Helge and of course, I couldn't resist doing some hard pulls. I'm on the verge of falling asleep, and it's only 8:14, so it looks like I exhausted myself more than I should of.