Sunday, October 24, 2010

Racing with the Pros

It isn't often that, unless you are lucky enough and talented enough to have a Pro license, that you find yourself in a race lined up next to professional cyclists (events like the Grand Fondo excepted). So imagine by surprise when, in looking at the lineup for the Spooky Cross race in Irvine, CA, I found the following competitors:
  • Chris Horner: Team Radioshack member, 10th in the 2010 Tour de France GC, Winner of GC at the 2010 Veulta Cyclista al Pais Vasco
  • Sid Taberlay: 5x Australian national mountain biking champion
  • Brian Lopes: 4x UCI mountain biking world champion, 6x World Cup winner
And me, basically Schmucky the Clown.

What was I doing going up against these pros? In the SoCal Cyclocross series, there aren't very many Category 3 riders, or at least not enough to justify having a separate race. Rather than throwing us into the plethora of Cat 4 riders (who, as is the case across most of the country, seem to be multiplying every race), the race promoters decided it would be a better idea to have the 3s race against the Pro/1/2s.

Great. Just terrific.

So far this season, it hadn't really been a big deal. Sid was the only one of the three previously mentioned who actually raced the entire series, and while he absolutely dominated the field all the time, he was still respectful of other riders, knowing that we were out there turning ourselves inside out just as much as he was (or maybe not. Sid never seemed to look tired).

Fast forward to Spooky Cross:

(Image from 333f on Flickr)

Thats me in the blurry middle, right behind the Ritte rider. The race itself was awesome. Contrary to traditional SoCal weather, it had actually been raining most of the week prior to the race, which created my kind of course: muddy. Especially considering most Californians were not used to such conditions, I was at home. Add in the fact that the race started at 8 PM under the lights, and I had my dream 'cross course.

At the starting line, I took my traditional place towards the rear (even I realize I'm not actually that fast). Surprisingly, Horner was running a bit late, and actually lined up behind me. That's right, I was about to start in front of a Pro. Holy crap!

Since this was a Halloween-themed race, the rider next to me turned to me before the start, resulting in the following exchange:

Him: "Man, that guy has a really great Chris Horner costume."
Me: (turning to look at Horner) "I know! He should get some sort of prize for that!"

Chris looked directly at both of us and smiled. It was great. Fortunately, ΓΌber 'cross promoter Dot Wong decided Chris should start at the front.

Chris: "But look at all these people who got here before me. It's only fair."
Dot: "Oh, come on."
Chris: "Alright . . ."

I've never see anyone be more modest about ripping everyone else's legs to shreds.

The race started fast, obviously, but I managed to keep to my strategy. The week prior, I had gone out very, very hard, and ended up bonking massively towards the end. This week, I wanted to ride comfortable hard: hard enough that I was pushing, but not so hard that I was going into the red. Fortunately, on this type of course, that proved to be a very fast strategy.

I was flying. I was sticking with riders who so far this season had been dropping me like a sack of potatoes. I was feeling great: my tire pressure was dialed in, my nutrition was dialed in, even the temperature was about perfect. With about 3 laps to go, the inevitable happened: I got lapped by Horner.

It happened in a sand section, which is always my notorious weak point. I was right on the wheel of my archrival, who had just spent a ton of energy bridging up to me. I heard shouts of "Go, Chris!" and knew I was about to get eaten alive. Chris was very respectful, just as I was to him. I purposely went wide on the corner (as that was actually a better line), and he cut inside to pass us with virtually no impediment. I shouted "Go, Chris!" as well, and to my surprise, he actually turned around and replied with "Thank you!". I may have blushed, honestly.

And then it happened. In a word: Hincapie.

With a lap and a half to go, I was making an off-camber corner from sandy soil onto tarmac. The corner had been slowly washing over with sand, which I didn't pay attention to until I hit the ground. The crash wasn't really bad, and at first I thought that nothing was wrong. I got up, and noticed my right shifter was slightly twisted, which again I didn't think was a problem. I did the upcoming run up, and tried to remount, only to steer directly into the caution tape lining the course. My bars were twisted about 15 degrees, and it took a bit of wrestling to get them back square. I tried to remount again, only to realize my chain had come off. This was a problem, as I am running a single ring with a chain guard in the front. How the chain managed to come off is beyond me (crashes do funny things), but I knew without an Allen wrench, I had no hope of sneaking the chain back on.

Dejected, I made it my goal to at least finish the darn race. So I did the only thing I could: I started running. That was until *kerCHUNK!* My now loose chain had managed to wrap itself around my cassette in ways I couldn't have even dreamed of. My rear wheel now no longer spun, and I was forced to get off the course to find the nearest USAC official, where I, reluctantly, had to DNF.

The only upside to this was that I got to see Chris win by about 20 seconds over Taberlay, who outsprinted Lopes. In the obligitory post race interview, Chris talked while drinking a beer, still his modest, casual self. It was so awesome to have a pro-caliber rider just chilling like the rest of us.

For those of you who have never tried cyclocross, I highly recommend it. It builds bike handling and tactical skills like nothing else. Or at least go out to a ChiCrossCup race and heckle people.

And last but not least: I will break this curse. One way or another.

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