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beth h
VB Team Member
| Joined: | Wed Dec 5th, 2007 |
| Location: | Portland, Oregon USA |
| Posts: | 246 |
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Posted: Tue Jun 23rd, 2009 05:58 am |
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ride report: my first xc race
mood:  ecstatic
I got there early, in time to make a trial run of the slightly altered course (they change it just a little every week) and noted how the heavy rains of a couple days ago had changed the terrain. The soft dirt had hardened into clumps and ridges, and a few large muddy puddles could be seen around the moto track. I hoped that when I came out of a turn into a muddy section I'd be able to pick a decent line and avoid getting bogged down in the worst of the mud.
I checked out the womens' new racers clinic, only to discover that by riding the course on my own and doing a little pre-race stretching I'd missed nearly everything useful the clinicians had to say, and basically I caught on the back of the group for -- yup -- a trial run of the course. Since I'd already ridden it once, I started out with the group and decided to save my very finite energy reserves for the actual race. I bailed on the clinic ride at about the halfway point, just before we returned to the moto track, but not before the clinician who was bringing up the rear of the group noticed I was riding a single-speed bike. "Is this your first time on single-speed?" she asked.
"This is my first time racing off-road, period." I replied.
Her eyes widened. She smiled and said, "Geez, girl, you're a hard-ass."
This was a comment I was surprised to hear more than once, from several far more experienced racers. It had not occurred to me that I was doing anything impossible or "studly". Hard? Sure, of course it's hard. It's racing. Racing is hard. Racing on a single-speed might be just a little bit harder, in spots. But certainly not impossible or strange. I went single-speed because I thought it would be easier than trying to figure out which gear to be in on a particular part of the course. More importantly, I went single-speed because the last time I did any serious off-road riding I was eleven (Gosh, was that really 35 years ago?!) and riding a cheap Huffy BMX bike with one speed. I figured it was best to start in a familiar place, you know?
This morning I had reconsidered my earlier request that Sweetie wait a week until I'd gotten my bearings; and I said that if she wanted to come tonight that'd be really cool. Sweetie showed up moments before my race was about to begin, and she found me at the starting line waiting for the womens' beginner race to be called. We blew kisses, she snapped a picture of me (to be posted later) and she went to find a seat in the grandstands.
Then the signal was given and off we went. I was really glad I'd gone out Friday and practiced starts; it helped me feel a little more confident about finding a line, even on a muddier, harder-packed course, and I rode all the way to the top of the first berm without having to do a run-up. The rest of the moto track section was sort of a blur, though I distinctly remember being passed by, well, just about everyone. No worries; my goal was to make it through two full laps of the entire course before it was over.
And it was HARD. I stopped a few times and pulled as far right as I could to let faster riders lap me while I struggled to catch my breath. At twenty minutes, the race is short enough that a sip of water snuck on a straightaway here and there was just enough to keep me from completely falling apart. A few times the turns in the 'cross section in the trees were SO sharp that I nearly went off the course or missed the turn UPHILL to the next part of the cross track. People were generally pretty cool about letting me know what side they were passing me on -- just like riding in traffic, for heaven's sake! -- and everyone was totally good-natured about the whole affair. There was lots of laughter and jesting on everyone's part and I loved how NON-seriously everyone took themselves.
I MISSED on the first set of baby-whoops in the trees -- I slid down off the side of the third baby whoopdee in the row of three and I just kept going, even though my pedal went right into my shin. I sort of didn't notice it at the moment; I was more concerned about the course marshal who called out my name and said with a chuckle, "I'm calling you on that missed whoopdee, Beth!" I nodded and pedaled away, too spent to care and hoping to God I could make it up the next incline without having to hop off and do a run-up. (I made it, but only barely.)
I got through the first lap and I felt utterly drained. In fact I sort of felt like stopping, but I decided to stick with my plan and try and get another lap in before they called the race. I'm glad I did; the second time through was a little bit easier in terms of bike handling (though I really had to muscle out that first tall berm on the moto track -- GEEZ!), and although I still had to stop and catch my breath a couple of times and I felt like a ninety-pound weakling with a heart rate of three hundred, my bike-handling skills came roaring back from the dark ages and that made me feel much better.
As I topped the final berm the guy waved a checkered flag, which I assumed meant that he was signaling to each passing rider that they were done. (I hope that's what he meant, and not some cryptic code meant for the race leader alone; if that's the case, I could have taken another lap, and not doing so may mean I DNF'd. Or something like that. I have no clue.) Anyway, the checkered flag was a good enough cue for me, and I came down the other side of the final berm and rode off the course. It was really, really, insanely HARD -- but it was also a lot of fun once I got the hang of the course. I was exhausted but happy. And I'd accomplished both of my stated goals: to make it twice around the course and to have fun.
Sweetie was waiting for me when I rolled my bike back out the gate into the waiting area. A big hug and a kiss, a few minutes to introduce her to a couple of other riders (including a pal from Oregon Randonneurs), and then she had to go home and feed the cats. I promised to get home before 9, but I wanted to stay and watch some of the more experienced racers, and I also wanted to make sure to stop by the sign-in table and thanks for organizers for putting on the event. (Always, ALWAYS thank the organizers of any bike event whether it's a brevet, a Zoobomb ride or race -- they do hard, hard work to make sure you and I can have fun on our bikes.)
I ran into Ira Ryan, who was a little surprised and very pleased that I had come out to give short-track a try. He LOVED my bike ("I just KNEW you'd do it on something like that," he smiled), and we had a nice chat before he went to warm up for his race. I also got to meet Sara Johnson, a fellow Bella from the Portland area who'd come out to race (her specialty is actually Downhill racing -- she's one of the truly insane ones who does it at the super-elite level -- but here she was doing short-track.) I cheered for her and enjoyed watching the Cat 2's, 1's and Pros fly fearlessly around the track, even taking a little air over the giant whoops in the middle of the moto section.
While watching the racing I said hi to a few of the guys I'd met at the Course Trial -- and they all realized for the first time I'd been racing single-speed. Their reactions were similar -- all were surprised and somewhat impressed that I chose to try off-road racing for the first time ever on a single-speed bike. Granted, I picked a slightly bigger gear than I should have and this week you can bet I will be scanning the QBP Web site for a smaller chain ring; but still, it just didn't seem like that big a deal to me. (I admit that I enjoyed being called a "hard-ass" by more than one rider. I certainly didn't feel like a hard-ass during the race but that's neither here nor there.)
The Cat 1/2/Pro race seemed to go on awhile and I'd promised Sweetie I'd get home before nine, so I didn't stick around for the end or to find Ira or Sara or anyone. I thanked Kris and headed out, feeling tired and happy.
When I got home, Sweetie noted that, now that she'd actually seen what the racing looked like she was impressed by how hard it looked. "You were doing hard stuff," she said. "But it was cool to watch."
Hero worship from your spouse is like nothing else in the world.
Tonight I am sore (that healthy, good-tired sore that I know I will really feel tomorrow morning, in spite of having stretched properly) and my shin is starting to sting a little where the pedal slammed into it (the pin took a tiny core-sample, which t anyone else would've been gross but to me it's just sort of odd.) And I am really looking forward to my next time out at the short-track course.
A photo below (more pix at my flickr page, search under "periwinklekog").
Me at the finish (or what appeared to be the finish anyway).
Attachment: race8.JPG (Downloaded 22 times) Last edited on Tue Jun 23rd, 2009 03:30 pm by beth h
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velobella
Administrator
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Posted: Mon Jun 29th, 2009 05:39 am |
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| wow, Beth! Congrats!!
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Current time is 02:12 pm | |
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