Round 11 of the London cross league was my first cross race.
Riding out to the Redbridge Cycling Centre with new Echappée recruit Will, meeting up with Neil Phillips on route, the two seasoned cross riders gave me lots of hints and tips on the journey. It was my first time at the Hog Hill circuit and with a clear sky, we were able to see the amazing London skyline in its full glory from the Essex setting.
With 10 minutes to go till race time, riders set about warming up and testing the conditions. As soon as I rode into a grassy uphill section, it dawned on me what I was in for; an hour of PAIN!
The race callings were made and we lined up on the grid. The whistle blew and we were off, full speed; to what section or corner, I had no idea! (I’d had no time to do a proper warm up lap).
Following the riders, the first section was like a stampede of buffalo climbing from a river. The surface was slippy like ice and my bike soon became a magnet for mud. It quickly weighed an absolute ton, which meant lots of digging deep to keep momentum. Riders began struggling to keep their pace. I found myself running a large amount of the course, with the bike slung over my shoulder.
On the more rideable sections, I was able to move through the field, catching up and then passing Will. However, this seemed to kick him into gear and he soon over took me again.
The bike was jamming with mud and I made several quick stops to attempt to clear the muck from the derailleurs.
The rider positions were yo-yoing back and forth, with riders making up or loosing positions due to the conditions of the sodden terrain.
I now had Will back in my sights, mounting the bike on the small uphill section of tarmac, I was greeted with an unusual thump. Bugger! A puncture, my race was cut short with a lap and a half to go.
At this point, a small part of me was glad it was over. I had started the race with only ambitions to finish, but I felt disappointed that I had had a real chance of coming in the top 20, with so few laps to go. But these things happen in racing.
I’ll be making another appearance to another race soon, for sure. It was a great eye opener and a true initiation into cyclocross racing.
After a week of excess - christmas parties, nights out, and bad eating - an hour long cross race seemed somewhat more appealing than a steady winter base ride on the final Sunday before Christmas.
From an initial viewing, the top of the course which spun its way around the top of the road circuit looked relatively mud free. This turned out to be a great judgement of error as the lower portion of the course was being turned into a mud filled mess during the vets/womens race.
After obligatory discussions on tyre pressure, which were all superseded by advice from a veteran racer to run them even lower we lined up at the start. Being lined on the 4th row meant the start was always going to have an element of wacky races, so the rider making Mario kart noises added to the slightly comedy feel of the start.
The course zig-zagged across the lower level before a slog of a tarmac climb to bring you to the top level for relative respite from the mud. From the top a chicane filled descent didn’t allow for any chance to get your breath back before you were hit with a series of short climbs and a set of hurdle high barriers to jump.
For the lower portion of the course the thick heavy mud made riding near impossible, requiring running far longer than any cyclist should be made to.
The final lap of the race eventually came, the mud was winning the battle, so for the first time I finished a bike race by running over the line. Tales of mud filled horror were shared over cups of tea in line for the jet wash.
The eagerness to race again slowly appears the next day, as too do the bruises and aches form the day before.