Today I took part in my first cyclocross race, as part of my recently launched campaign to not actually die in the attempt to ride the 3 Peaks race next year (previously). It just so happened that the local secondary school was hosting a round of the regional CX race series this weekend, and a couple of friends were going to have a go too, so this seemed as good a time and place as any to start. Happily, my road bike is actually a CX bike in disguise, so all I had to do was dig out the pair of knobbly tyres that I bought on a whim a year or two ago, remove the mudguards, and fit a shorter stem. These technical adjustments took under an hour, which as it happened was very nearly as much time as I had spent on the physical preparations for my racing debut in this discipline.
As is my usual tactic, I gridded myself right at the back to ensure I kept out of the way of the fast lads, which turned out to be a good idea; everyone was a fast lad, apparently, and they all shot off into the distance with alarming speed once the starting whistle blew. I spent the ensuing laps with my heart rate pegged and my eyeballs nearly popping out of my skull, hanging right off the back off the race like the unfit mess I currently am. I was lapped by the front runners after perhaps ten minutes, and then by pretty much everyone else, as far as I can tell. After about half an hour I started to feel a bit less than utterly terrible and made back a few places over the last couple of laps. The whole thing was wrapped up in about fifty minutes: short and very, very sharp.
The course was classic cyclocross, apparently: approximately 95% uphill, frequently through a swamp, or a sandpit, or a swampy sandpit. The downhilll bits were all carefully taped out to make them off-camber and almost impossible to ride at more than 5mph. There was a special hurdle section to make you either get off or crash hilariously, an amusing tractionless bit over an awkward grassy lump, and one of those hypnotic spiral-of-death things in the middle of the football pitch. I didn’t crash at any point, my hard-earned mountain-bikerly poise and grace carrying me easily through the various slip-slidey grassy banks, bunkers and boggy bits. I also found the cornering drills of last year’s speedway sessions handy on the numerous grip-free bends and turns. Technically I really rather enjoyed the exercise, it’s always fun coaxing a slightly daft bike over amusing terrain. I just need to work on the small matter of the woefully underpowered engine. Oh, and the remounts, being able to jump back on after getting off would be a handy skill to acquire given that I had to get off about fifty times a lap, which is roughly par for the course, I’m told.
So, in summary, my first CX race was awful. Apparently there’s another round not too far away next weekend; I might see if I can have another go and get some more practise in.