Schooley Mill 'Cross (The Making of a Cyclocross Addict - Part 2)

Opportunity Knocks

I was looking at cyclocross events to see if there were any I could visit as a spectator. I wanted to get a feel for the sport. I was shocked to see that there would be a race in a much-loved, local location—Schooley Mill Park.

Yep, that's the entrance!

The MABRA cyclocross series visited Schooley Mill Park in 2009 for the first time. Schooley Mill is a place full of happy memories. I have taken my girls there for countless walks in the woods in all seasons and in all kinds of weather. We've stalked deer, spied on beaver, and befriended horses and their riders on the well-maintained paths through the woods. We've followed animal tracks, crossed logs, fallen into the creeks and lagoons, and returned with smiles and treasures. On a few occasions I rode there on my mountain bike and romped on the paths, with one or two out-of-control, daredevil descents on the hills.

So, how cool was it that there was going to be a race there?

I mulled. I daydreamed. I wanted to ride—even though I had no idea what that meant. Eventually, I registered.

Getting Ready

Everything I read and everyone I spoke to told me the same thing: 'cross is hard. To prepare, I increased the intensity and frequency of my spin classes (more intervals). I also went out to a field and practiced dismounts and remounts.

NOT me. Note the form and the, er, risky position

Funny, it was just like riding a bike!

It was easier than I expected. I simply channeled my childhood. As a kid I lived on my bike, and I leaped off it countless times. I knew how to run and remount from endless games of chase and tag. Somehow, the running-jumping-mounting-pedaling thing came back to me.

NOT my old bike, but you get the idea

Even off-camber turns—initially terrifying—came back to me. All those afternoons as a kid riding the trails around Carpenter's Pond are hard-wired in my memory. My 29er ain't my old yellow banana seat bike, but the same rules apply.

The Day Cometh...

Crisp, cool, autumnal air greeted me when I left my driveway for the 20-minute ride to Schooley Mill. My backpack was filled with water, tubes, clothes, tools, and a shop pump. I had more than I needed.

Riding to the race was the perfect warm-up to the warm-up. I got there early and registered. While in the anteroom outside registration, I stood with my number (640), four pins, and nary a clue about what to do with them. A wise, kind woman (in a BBC kit) bailed me out, helping me to don the number (right side, facing backwards, so the race officials could identify my corpse when they scraped me off the tarmac).

I stashed my bag in some tall sea grass near the tot lot (nifty hiding place for belongings and wayward children) and rode a lap, marveling at the activity surrounding the final race preparations. I had visited the previous evening to get a look at the course; everything looked a little different in the morning light.

Course map for Schooley Mill 'Cross!

Nervous, I kept having to pee. I'm sure the caffeine had nothing to do with it.

As a result, I nearly missed the start. I was in the loo when I looked at my watch. It read 08:56. Race start was to be at 09:00. Christ!

I completed my transaction, mounted my steed, and rushed to the line, where several score angry-looking men in tight shorts were lined up for the start. I nearly toppled an entire group as I maneuvered into my start row (4th row!).

Clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right, here I am, stuck in the middle with you.

I saw Beautiful and Charming Bride (BCB) and my two girls, the Lovely Angels (LAs), at the start. Goofily, I grinned and waved. Nodded to the racer next to me, and we were off!

The Race

Prior to the race, veteran cyclocross racers told me the following about 'cross:

1. You redline the entire race.
2. Bike-handling skills are at a premium.
   
3. Speeds are slower, so when you fall (note: "when") it does not hurt as much.

So, despite my night-before-the-event-visualization-fantasy—in which I made the podium in my first EVER cyclocross race, riding a 29er mountain bike, with family cheering me on to legendary victory—I really had two realistic goals.

1. Finish.
2. Don't fall.

Modest. Realistic. Manageable.

No one in front...no one behind...still in the middle...

I can happily report that I achieved both my goals.

I finished despite several cyclocross-veteran comments that I would be fortunate to not get lapped in my first race, in large part to the behemoth bike I was mounting.

I did not fall, thus proving that even blind squirrels occasionally find a nut (er, well, you know what I mean).

I was 34th of 65 starters (three did not finish).

I was middle of the pack. I did not get lapped.

I am a bicycle racer!

What I Experienced

A breathless rush: that's what it is.

I died a thousand small deaths each lap.

Rabbits

As I passed the officials, concluding each lap, one mindtrack screamed "call the race!" and another mindtrack howled "kill the rabbit!"

I like chasing rabbits. Motivating. Driving. Primal. When that other guy is out there in front of you, reeling him in is an absolute delight.

Family

I passed BCB and the LAs twice each lap (as I passed the tot lot). I have no idea when they arrived. Each time, I could clearly hear Youngest Lovely Angel (YLA) shouting "Go Daddy Go!" BCB and Eldest Lovely Angel (ELA) were more reserved in their support, but I heard them.

I got chills whenever I heard them. It absolutely motivated me to pedal stronger (at least when I was near them!), to make them proud. It's cliche; it sounds trite. That said, it's real.

Work

I wore my heart rate monitor. My average BPM was 178. My maximum BPM was 186.

Thus proves the statement: "you redline the entire race."

Obstacles

Obstacles were manageable. They were not easy, but I didn't feel like they abused me...with one exception: the uphill carry over the two cyclocross-board obstacles.

• Lap 1, not so bad. Carried 29er over and easily remounted.
• Lap 2, not so bad. Carried 29er over and easily remounted.
• Lap 3, not so good. Stopped dead before lifting 29er, and remounted with effort (not so much spring in the step).
• Lap 4, bad. Stopped dead. Heaved 29er onto first barrier to roll it over. Labored up hill. Re-heaved 29er over second barrier (barely clearing it). Stopped dead. Got back on bike (it's not a "remount" if you are walking, true?).

That bike got heavy.

Pipped

Chasing the rabbit is a good thing. Being the rabbit...not so nice.

Just before the line (uphill approach) a comet passed me at mach II. Effing hell. As Ian Brown would say: "Amateurs! Amateurs!"

So this is how it feels to be lonely, this is how it feels to be small...

That will never happen again.

What I Learned

'Cross Is Hard!

Let me repeat what I wrote before: "I wore my heart rate monitor. My average BPM was 178. My maximum BPM was 186."

'nuff said.

Gearing

I stayed in the middle ring (front) and shifted surprisingly little. Of course, coming up the boggy hill, I needed to downshift, but I never got into the rear granny ring. I also never got into the rear power ring. It was always somewhere in the middle.

Eating & Drinking

A Gu 20 minutes before the start, and then one at the start fueled me perfectly with no GI distress. Even if I was thirsty, there was no way to drink during the race. I don't even remember thinking about it until after the finish.

Finish Strong

I was chasing my own rabbit when I was caught. I was riding hard enough to catch my target, and I had no idea I was being stalked. In the wild, I would have been dinner. Situational awareness will not let me down again.

Why I Will Do It Again

40+ minutes of vitality in the cold, wet, muddy, sunny, windy, speed-driven hunt.

40+ minutes of risk and reward, hunting and seeking, chasing and dodging, leading and scrambling.

40+ minutes of living fully.

...it's FUN!

'Cross is fun.