“What A Storm”

Review of the 2005 cyclocross nationals

Providence, Rhode Island

12.31.2005

The headline of the Providence Journal read “What A Storm” with the picture text reading ‘the first major snowstorm of the season snarls traffic, closes schools, pulls down power lines and temporarily closes a bridge’ not to mention the runway at T.F. Green airport. All while I’m trying to finish my race at the 2005 cyclocross nationals!

I’ve been to a lot of bike races in my time and I’ve never, ever seen the severe weather like this past weekend. In the early 80’s during my BMX racing days and then the mid 90’s during my serious mountain bike racing days I’ve been subjected to lightning strikes, heavy rain and thunderstorms, hurricane force winds and anything else that slowed, delayed and canceled some racing but none of it compares to this past weekend.

Cyclocross racing itself paints a picture of very dramatic weather; cold temperatures, rain, mud and snow or perhaps a combination of any of these. Typically it’s cold and overcast and you can count usually count on a couple of days, a couple of weekends of some sort of combination of those conditions during the season where the racing conditions are just miserable. I knew it would be cold in Providence, I had a feeling it would be wet and muddy but I had no idea what we would subject ourselves to. My first race (of two) for the weekend was the Masters 35-39 category scheduled for Friday afternoon at 11pm. Hanging out watching the 45+ earlier in the day I was actually excited about my race as it was now snowing and coming down very heavy. There is always something magical, a little special when conditions are unique to a venue while racing – it ingrains a solid memory and instantly separates itself from every other race you go to. While I finished my spectating and official haggling I perched my bike on my trainer and began my warm up underneath my minivans rear hatch, which now doubled as a umbrella because it was now raining. Freezing rain to be exact, the temperatures were hovering around 30 degrees and the more I warmed up so did the temps and I sat and watched the parking lot turn from a snowy surface to a slush/soup combo. So now I am faced with a big challenge and most hated racing conditions….rain, and very, very cold rain. It took a while for the mental motivation to come and my gusto just to pull off my protective layer and proceed to stand on the start line with 150+ master racers but that’s what I did. The start line, rather the road in Providence was a slight arcing uphill with a short hop of the curb into a snow covered, severely rutted rolling section of Roger Williams park and zoo. This start and first turn lead you into what they called the ‘candy bowl’ for a series of turns, run-ups and descents that came through this area of the course which was just great for spectating.

What happened next would make me doubt the entire weekend of racing! After the official yelled “GO” and we took off like wild horses freshly branded the pack rolled by the official scoring trailer and I heard the voice of Richard Fries yelling into the PA system like some crazed preacher proclaiming the gospel of cross “here they come, here they come, through the car wash – Oh my god, it’s the car wash”….it took me 10 seconds to realize what he was talking about and then my upper extremities went numb. I mean instantly, I couldn’t feel my fingers – I couldn’t feel my hands, they had gone numb from the ‘car wash’ of slush and ice cold water, it was like being thrown into an ice bath like a polar bear jumping into the arctic just to catch some fish, except I wasn’t after any fish…I’m not sure what I was after but it sure wasn’t fish. This was the first bad sign of things to come.

OK, this is cross – cross is cold – keep pedaling!

I had to tell myself this over and over. This is cross – cross is cold – keep pedaling. So I kept pedaling, pedaling and more pedaling until my hands regulated and I can feel some blood flowing, phew – that was interesting. It was the closest I’ve come to having the shortest race ever. I’m now settled into some sort of groove, an uncomfortable not-so-sure-this-is-a-good-idea kind of groove but I pedal on and now I’m actually riding fairly well. I seem to do good in bad conditions and muddy courses, must be that mountain biker in me coming out.

I’m now on my second lap and I start to notice the rain has turned to hail and the wind has picked up a bit. Its now hard to ride with the gusts whipping around and blowing the hail in my face like little bee stings. This is cross – cross is cold – keep pedaling! I’m starting to notice guys are dropping like fly’s hitting a fan blade and was thinking that perhaps I’ve missed an announcement or something…where is everyone going? This is now a race of attrition, I’m seeing branches and limbs breaking off and flying around and course tape is whipping like a kite being tossed out of your car while on the highway and expecting it to get air born. The hail was now mixing with snow so thick you couldn’t see anything and were afraid to keep your head up because of the hail blowing sideways…ohh, it was epic! Even the course barriers that had all the banners on it was now being blown over like a small sailboat on rough seas. This was not good! All I can think about was making a bee line for the shelter of my van. The next disasterous event was my Gore-tex booties are now filling up and over flowing with that same ice water from the ‘car-wash’ that froze my hands. Gore-tex works great and generally keeps moisture out and while a little water on the inside is fine as it acts like a scuba suit. There was so much water everywhere that it was useless, in fact I probably would have been better without them so the water wouldn’t weigh me down. OK, now I’m doomed – my feet are my weak point and if they go under then I’m as good as done. Now my rationale has taken over and I’ve thrown in the towel so I motion to my crew (wife) to meet me at the van. The crew later told me she was waiting and watching for that to happen…apparently the crew knows my limitation.

What I didn’t realize as I was sitting in the van was the officials cancelled the last two races. I later found out when I went back to retrieve my jacket from the start line and everyone was gone…including the start line barricades. The airport closed it’s runway for a couple hours, bridges were closed and it was the worst weather the state has had this year…all during my race. I later heard reports of guys (who actually finished) with slurred speech, hypothermic conditions, frozen patches on their heads which matched the helmet hole vents and the medic trailers were packed with guys shivering uncontrollably. My crew said she had never feared for her life more than this day, and she was just spectating! It took me about 45 minutes just to get my core temperature back to normal and stop shivering as I sit staring out my window watching people scurry around protecting their faces and holding onto things (like trees and cars) just to get to a destination like the end of the parking lot.

The next day you would have never known it ever happened. The sun was out, the course froze over and the racers were back. Gotta love cross! It took me all day to reinstate my motivation for my second race on Sunday. My crew and I watched the elite men’s race, which is always inspiring, and summoned the motivation for my Sunday race. While I still wasn’t looking forward to it that morning I pulled out a big cup O’ joe, feasted on a healthy breakfast at my holiday inn and drove over to the course, pulled out my trainer and suited up. This time I was seeded third row and had a fantastic start. BANG – off we go, the wild horses heading out on our steeple-chase fun. Up the hill, over curb I’ve got an inside line heading into the field, down through the rutted madness I’m bouncing and wiggling all over the place. I look around for a brief second and notice there are still riders coming up the start hill – holy crap this is a big field – now I’m in the first turn and make a dive through the first tight turn and I’m sitting second position heading up the slight grade to the off-camber section. WOW, this feels pretty cool, I’m at the front of the pack – too bad I’m not worthy and I’d better make the best of it! I know I’m out of my element but I’m riding really good so I maintain my pace and start to make room for the more aggressive guys so I let myself slip back some places. Did I mention the appearance of the Pope! It must have been his presence that pushed me into another realm of riding. I must have done my first lap in the top 10 and I’ve never felt better but I know I still can’t hold this past even though I’ve slowed myself down but this feels really good and If I can just hold onto a top 20 position this will make my year!

My second lap and I’m sitting pretty, riding with a small group that isn’t necessarily going flat out because the field is so spread out on this really long course. Then disaster strikes on one of the many curbs that must be negotiated. I flatted my rear tire at the furthest point from the double pit. For about 2 minutes I ran my heart out and tried to salvage my race, or at least finish. I watched the entire field go by while I was running and then realized that, even if I made it to pit, I left my spare wheelset in the van. Yeah, I’m a knuckle-head – so I thought I would make it to the pit and look for some charity wheels. No such thing, those guys were guarding their pit bikes and wheels like a dog with a fresh bone, like vultures around fresh kill it was theirs and only theirs to share with their riders. So I hobbled myself up to the scoring trailer and shouted across the course that I was done, DNF, over and out of the race. My nationals were done and I didn’t finish either race I had entered. I’m already looking forward to 2006.

Chip