my shoulder is sore... must be cx season

Walking to work this morning, I put my bag on my right shoulder.  Oof, there's a bruise there.  Last weekend, we were only off once per lap.  This weekend was the hometown races - Charm City Cross - just 1.3 miles from my house.  Two races. 6 laps of pre-riding.  Off 4 times per lap most laps (I rode the sand pits a couple of times).  Full on shouldering for the run up, the sand, and occasionally the railroad ties = lotsa bouncing frame on shoulder action.

the small world of cross

I leave the slumbering elite rider from San Francisco on the couch next to his and his teammate's bike boxes and wheel cartons filling up our rowhouse living room and go for my Friday morning spin.  High cadence, low effort, mostly flat - perfect for riding in circles around a lake, people watching.  Druid Hill is just a mile or so from our house, so escaping the traffic for a bike path around a lake suits for this kind of ride.  Yeah, I'd rather ride in the country, but it takes 20 minutes to get to fun roads.  And 20 minutes to get back.  And this was a 40 minute ride.  And the people watching in Baltimore city parks is fantastic.

I digress.

My second lap around the lake, I squint through the sunlight and see a cyclist in a full kit on a cross bike, looking my way.  A quick conversation reveals he's from the Czech Republic.  He wanted to know where registration is for tomorrow's Charm City race, having brought his bike from Europe on a business trip so he could race in Baltimore.  He rode the 15 miles from his airport hotel to the race venue today.  I assume he'll repeat that tomorrow to get to the race.

I figured given this amount of effort, perhaps he was racing the Elite UCI race?  Nope... he's a masters' rider.  How cool.

I love cross.  Apparently there are crazy people everywhere.

no woulda coulda shoulda for me...

Nittany Cross.  A long drive.  A very early morning - Shea's race was at 9.  Walked the course with the dogs.  Flat. Fast.  One rooty section, a couple of high speed corners to pay attention to, lotsa flat grassy power sections.  Two laps on the bike before the 9am race, some cheering and getting dressed and soon I was on the trainer for my warmup.  A few moments of holy crap, cross season is really here in the morning, but race nerves weren't too bad.

Going to the scrum fest, I realized that a) I was late even though we still had 20 minutes til our race (hey ladies, when it's colder out, we won't do that) and b) I didn't care that much because it was staged by order of reg and I was on the ball.  Actually, maybe it was by last year's final standings, but the first 12 or so got a callup, then it was scrum... As we're standing there, they changed the start to dis-include the prologue loop.  I was actually sort of expecting that - our race is the only one of the day with 3 waves of starts and the prologue took you backwards on the course for a couple hundred yards.

I was aggressive in the start and had the hole shot to the first critical corner.  It felt like the field spread out immediately.  Others told me it didn't and there were some early crashes, but from my perspective I was pulling about 45 women single file up toward the master's riders who'd gone off a minute earlier.

Feeling strong and racing my own race as I worked through the master's women, I just put it all out there.  That was good enough for 2 1/2 laps.  Then I got passed and couldn't hang on by the end of that lap - the leader and another woman were about 10-15 seconds ahead of me for most of the last two laps.

Eh, whatever.  The announcers noticed I'd led the field, I felt awesome, and I finished 3rd on the day in a deep field of 3/4 women.  How cool was it to see that many ladies out there?!  That doesn't even count the 27 pre-registered in the women's UCI race - nearly as many as the men's pro race.

What a blast. Lots of familiar faces and voices in the pits hollering for each other and sharing a beer afterwards.  A great virgin race for the new Santa Cruz Stigmata.  Turns out we parked next to another woman who had the green one.  Not too many of those on the east coast.

As a side note, after seeing podium pics I've decided to never wear that skort with a jersey again.  Suffice it to say I don't sit around my house trying on my jersey with various bottoms to see what would look good in pictures.

anxious... excited...

I've been anxious for this cross season since last December.  I am stronger, have more base fitness, have spent some coach-prescribed time during the summer running and yoga-ing... but am I faster?  I have a sweet new ride outfitted with awesome green bar tape, tubulars on new-to-me wheels, a spare bike... but am I faster?   Six cx skills sessions with intervals in the past 15 days, a new flow to my remount, some tweaks to my carries, a couple changes to my uphill dismount... but am I faster? 

Saturday.  Saturday starts cross.  I'm anxious.  Excited.  Can't wait for the cowbells and friends.  The red-line efforts.  The crashing frustration.  The mud (there won't be any mud on Saturday, but I want some mud).  The dewy morning pre-rides.  The trainer warm-ups under a tent with my i-pod.  The night before nerves that often yield baked goods to share.  The bruised right shoulder.  The crisp air that lets us bring the dogs for some hatchback-based socialization.  Did I mention the mud?

How will I tell if I'm faster?  What if everyone else around me is too?  I'll just have to know.  To believe.  To know that I love this crazy endeavor as much as anyone else out there.  That I've put the time in.  And will continue to.  To enjoy the adrenaline rush of a good start or a strong pass.  Appreciate the precision of a good set of barriers, earned through many many preseason repetitions.  Know that even on the worst days, I showed up. 

I'll bring what I have.  Put it out there.  Race smart and hard.  Let the results fall where they may.  It's easy to trap myself into goals that are numbers.  Results.  Upgrades.  Don't ask me what those goals are.  They aren't the ones that matter.

And yes, this is my pre-first-race-of-the-year pep-talk to myself.  Here's hoping it works and I have more fun than ever out there.