Rad Racing GP, Seattle

I was placed in the third row of four with about 30 other riders in the Masters 45+ Cat 4 field. Looking around, facial hair dominated with quite a few magnificent moustaches in view. No familiar faces but a couple of lean-looking racers looked the ones to beat.

The course was completely flat but quite technical with a lot of grassy turns, a single set of barriers, a long stretch of tarmac that suited the sprinter and two stretches of beach – yes, I said beach. Each coastal region was about 40 yards in length with ankle-deep sand. Much too soft to traverse on the bike – the furthest I made was about 5 yards. Overall, a really fun course and one that suited me.

OK, to the start. I managed to sprint past a few riders from start chute and settled into about 15th place. The first half of the course was windy and technical through tight turns ‘round trees and most of the turns were off camber. There was some jostling for position but few real opportunities to pass in this early stage of the race. Then we hit the two sand ‘traps’. There was a chorus of beefy grunts as bikes were hoisted, wheels akimbo. As you can imagine, there were a few ‘face-on-tread’ incidents, but I escaped without drama and even managed to pass a few blokes. Then it was into another grassy section. We started to catch the slower racers from the group that started 30 secs ahead. I settled into a group of about five and we traded attacks for a couple of laps but no one could seem to pull away. The barriers were no problem and my remounts are improving each race. I focused on taking an inside line on the grassy/muddy off-camber turns and picked off a few with this strategy. Due to all the turns, there were very few opportunities to approach lactate threshold. This meant that I could really open up on the 150m start/finish straight. Passed a couple more each lap doing this. By lap 3, the group that I had been exchanging attacks with had dropped off– probably a consequence of my long road season and, ahem, good level of fitness (and no climbing in the race).

Disaster nearly struck in front of the scorers on lap 3. Let me explain. There was a small speed bump in the straight, about the height of a large dingo donger. I had bunny hopped this donger-bump twice at speed. On the third go at this the pedals locked. I looked down to see the chain hoisted on the crank arm. Alarmed at this development, I took stock for a second and decided to gently back-pedal hoping that the chain would drop off the crank and be pulled back into line with the chainring. Thankfully, this is exactly what happened and I continued.

The other comical event happened on lap 3 on the beach. As I was striding purposefully through the sand with shouldered bike, the right calf muscle complained loudly and went ping. Crapola! Every step was now an adventure in pain and I took to ‘running’ with foot angled out to minimize the discomfort. Then, on the third lap in the same place the other calf went out in sympathy. Pushing down and forward in the soft sand had extended both calves past breaking point. There were now as useful to me as a chocolate kettle.
Three ways to navigate the beach: riding, pushing, carrying. Post-injury, I made like a duck and waddled.
(photo courtesy of Tim Schallberger)

So for the final laps I was mostly riding along, reeling in the occasional not-my-Category moustaches. Then when I hit the beach, I hobbled and waddled gamely in agony with the peculiar sensation that my rebellious calves had rolled up sitting behind my knees having a good laugh. My calves really need to HTFU or I will be posting to OBRA chat for a new pair VERY soon.

The front of my race was a long way off but I was the strongest of the next group of riders. We left before the results were posted but I am guessing around a 10-12th place [actually, nabbed 4th place - woo hoo]. Aside from calf issues, which I suspect will be an ongoing issue throughout cross season, I was very happy with my race. No falls, good handling of the technical sections and strong sprinting when required.

Ouchy time - Pain and Suffer'n race report

Not wishing to sound like a whinny, cardigan-wearing, sissy but this race really (really) hurt. The course was a significant challenge – lots of climbing, 4 sets of barriers, deep, slippery gravel, and a long, long run-up. Combined, this layout pushed the boundaries of decent racing and collapsed everything down to a primeval battle for survival, at least it did for me. By about half way through I had ceased meaningful racing and was just hanging on for dear life.

After competing as a Clydesdale in cyclocross all last season, I decided to enter the Men’s C race and started alongside 24 other journeymen. After the whistle I was able to keep up with the lead group - for about a lap. Was feeling quite pleased about this. However, before I could reach around and pat myself on the back, the physiological debt demanded its first payment - angrily too. I had gone out too hard. From then on it was a battle to maximize recovery on the short downhill sections while trying to somehow overcome the uphill segments. By now some kind of racing survival instinct had kicked in – I had to do whatever it took to finish.
(photo courtesy of R. Rosko)

By the second lap I had lost contact with the lead group and was riding solo. I passed one racer the entire race - a poor chap who had obviously gone out waaaaaay too hard. He was done. Whimpering sounds could be heard as I passed. Later I was overtaken by someone who continued to steadily pull away. No response from me - I didn’t care. You KNOW that it is a complete and utter sufferfest when you don’t give one whit when someone passes you – it’s just a minor event in your tiny world of pain. Most tortuous was the gentle uphill section that followed the run-up. It was a couple of hundred meters of 2-4% of climbing. “That’s not so steep” you may snort. True, but it was bumpy and very difficult to maintain any sort of momentum and I was reduced to turgidly spinning the pedals in lowest gear, willing myself to the top. This lung scorching, quad-tastic battle for preservation continued for two more laps. The bell made me grin like a fool because it meant that the end was near. Spirits were lifted and extra energy was found to propel me through that last lap. Thankfully, no sprinting was required at the end and had the luxury of pedaling languidly across the line, quads all aquiver.
(photo courtesy of R. Rosko)

True to its name the event had extracted maximum pain and suffer’n. I suspect that a lot of other racers were similarly humbled. For me, it was akin to an episode of Man vs wild. Dropped into the Bald Peak wilderness with only one way out – and I had made it. The only thing missing was the chopper to whisk me back to civilization when survival was assured.