CX season's snow capped finale
Well that was interesting. They said that Jerry Baker had predicted snow for the last race of the year back in September. They don't call him The Godfather for nothing. Our final race in the Emerald City Cyclocross series was down in the rural town of Bonney Lake, WA, about an hour south of Seattle. I predicted that the weather would be cold. As we got closer we could see frost on the ground. Ok. Some black ice on the roads. Ok yeah. Hmmm that looks like a nice covering of snow on the ground. Interesting. We pulled into the Kelly Creek race area and were met with three inches of snow and ice as far as the eye could see. Fields and fields of crunchy, slippery white stuff. I had to put my Jeep into 4WD to get into a parking place. (Note to self: the 4WD still works, we're good for mountain travel this winter.) I got out of the jeep and just started laughing. There was nothing else to do but get the right attitude off the bat. My friends were rather dumbfounded. They had never mountain biked before this CX season, let alone ridden on snow, let alone on ice. They were about to get a quick lesson. One junior reported back that it had taken him 20 minutes to ride around the course in some ridiculous granny gear. Great. I didn't have a choice in gears and would have to make do. I worried about having to slog through the entire course. Great. Everyone else and their silly gears. So much for going all full gas on the last race of the year. Well, if I wasn't going to do well then neither was anyone else. haHA!!
We did a few warmup laps and I got ample satisfaction when it proved that everyone else was having as much difficulty as I was. Slipping, sliding, swerving, swearing. Going no where fast. I did notice that after a hundred people had taken a few laps that a nice track was forming to make the going a bit easier. Hmmmm. This might be possible. There was still ice in spots, but having some semblance of trail would make things much more doable.
We gathered at the start and everyone was bundled like Ralphie's little brother from A Christmas Story. I was still showing some skin on my calves thanks to the Greyhound Juice I rubbed on them. Intimidation is 90% of the battle I say. The first Masters group was off up the icy hill and a few of them took some tumbles. Great. The second group of Masters took off a minute later and several met the same fate. Tumbles, sliding, chaos. I needed to get ahead of the pack and out of the way before they started bumbling up that hill too. No need to slow myself down due to others' incompetence.
"10 seconds ladies.....GO!!" And we were off. I tried to stay behind Jenny, the series leader, but I quickly had words with the icy road which had other ideas for my tires. It was a mix of trying to stay upright, trying to stay on one line, trying to watch who else was swerving into you, and trying to keep up with who's in front. Damn, somehow a dozen girls got ahead of me up the hill. Oh well, I shall pick you off one by one, my minions.
I quickly realized that passing girls would be the trick to the whole race. The narrow track that had been worn down in the snow was the only way around the course. If you tried to pass by going around in the fresh snow you instantly sunk down and slowed to a stop. Fuck. I stubbornly tried it twice and finally relented to Plan B: pass whenever an dry spot opens up and go like hell. It worked. Boom, pass two girls on a well worn stretch of snow. Boom, pass a third over a bumpy dry section of roots. Tennis Shoe Mom was on the side of the trail with a mechanical. Sorry honey. The race was slow and like playing hopscotch. I'd catch up to one girl and have to pace behind her slow ass until I could pass her. But it worked. At every opening I hopped past her like she was standing still. Aren't you going to try and catch me?? Jeez what's your deal? Tired already? I have a feeling I pissed off a few of them as I recklessly bombed past, but damn girls it's a RACE, it's not a debutante ball. I'm not going to be polite about this. Not now.
Two laps down and I've passed another five girls or so plus a few odd Masters men. I impatiently try to pass another guy and I stall in the fresh snow. Dammit, and little junior racer Devon takes my spot. I jump back in and sit on her tail for another half lap. We swap spots a few times. I feel like we're the only two girls racing this thing and everyone else is just out for a Sunday stroll. Finally! Someone to play with! I pass her on one slight uphill, then she passes me at another opening. We're on each other's tail the whole time. Half a lap left. I know that there is an open spot in the trees before the runup. I can see it in front of me. If she goes left, I'll go right. I try to anticipate where she'll move and go for it and it works. She doesn't have a chance to jump and catch me. I'm off in the snow again heading for the runup. The little shit is 20 years younger than me and could easily get me on this runup, but I gun it. I can hear her team cheering for her to catch up with "that lady" so I gun it even more after I get to the top and back on my dinosaur. I'm not having a junior catch me.
Down the off-camber and across the ice field. I'm cautious not to fall, but am I too cautious that she might catch me? I have no idea where she is now. I can't hear her. The cowbells and the snow and the cold air on my face provide me no answer. I gun it as much as I can in this stupid snow. I'm across the last part of the cow field and approaching the final icy climb. Is she behind me? I can't tell. Is the crowd is cheering for everyone or for me or for a final showdown? I pick my line and gun it up the hill. I pass a few more guys who have lost it all. The announcer calmly calls my approach to the finish and says nothing about my rival so I finally realize that she is no threat. I cross the line and hear my placing: Third. Not fucking bad! Sweet! My best placing yet and I feel like I'd hardly ridden at all. The snow and the pacing behind others didn't take it out of me. It was more a race of patience and strategy and knowing when to make your move. Hmmm somewhat like track. A good lesson to carry over the next few months until I feel that surge of competition again.
