If cyclocross had to be summed up in three, concise words, it couldn't be. There's just no way. To set the scene for this brief tale, it takes place at the annual Hidden Valley CX Race in Vernon, NJ. Its a beautiful day as my buddy and I haul our flannel-clad carcasses from the car to the registration table. As we pad across the gravel lot towards our eventual number plates and impending doom, we feel a pang of urgency. Entertain this: say you enter a kite flying contest. Your kite has beer stains on it along with maybe some blood or bong residue, a cracked frame and a piece of haggered twine connecting it to your trembling hand. Your hand is trembling because all of your other fellow-kite-enthusiasts have brought carbon kites with lasers on them and are warming up by burning lesser kites.
My feeling of urgency is soon escalated as I look around and see approximately zero single speeds and even less 26" wheeled mountain bikes. The horizon is consumed by carbon works of art from Van Dessel and Colnago. Humans are scattered amongst the art wearing full lycra suits, which sport their sponsors names and reveal their mammoth calves and jagged hamstrings. The humans were warming up vigorously on their trainers as I jogged to the bathroom and back in my mountain baggies and chewed up flannel. Needless to say, we stuck out like a pair of sore thumbs amongst a patch of super fresh, not sore, thumbs.
The Cat 4 whistle blows. I am situated mid-pack, where I will eventually finish. The sprint up the gravel road and the first few super muddy, off cambre turns felt great. I quickly realized a few things though. One: I had made a tragic error in gear choice at 38:17 and my legs were almost instantly ablaze. Two: It is much easier to put out your leg-fires when you can sit down. Three: Sitting down becomes quite difficult when you flail like an electrocuted baboon whilst re-mounting after the first barrier and crush your saddle rails, leaving your seat aimed squarely at your rectum for the entirety of the race. I learned these things and many more as my pelvis turned to dust and my hamstrings broke off during the remaining 39 minutes.
Awesomeness reigned supreme that day, in the truest sense of the word. I went to have fun and did just that. The course was awesome. The spectators were awesome. The other racers who I met were, you guessed it; awesome. It was a painful day, but that is exactly why we do it.
We finished off the day like true trail riders, with a few pints of Yeungling and gut-bomb burger-meal. I will definitely continue to enter more CX races and will, with each one, become a bit more calloused and jaded. It is a hugely fun, epic sport and the uber-humans who excel at it are true athletes. I can say with overwhelming certainty though, that it felt damn good to get back on some single-track and back to my wooded sanctuary.
Occupy Trails
Wildly unrelated, but very excited about this.
Largely unrelated as well, but the want level is so high, this picture should remain.
In bikemuse fashion, here are a smattering of things that make me tick.
