This week I did crash and I did come last.
Cyclocross course design seems to me a peculiar expression of sadism, with sharp turns on steep banks being particularly powerful fetishes. On today's course at Hillingdon there were 3 sections that I found impassable on the bike.
1. A very steep descent ending with a dead turn right onto a steep climb. I was afraid of twisting an ankle just walking down.
2. Switchbacks up and down a steep bank. I could make it through the first up and down no problem, but the turn on the second crest had a near-vertical little kick at the top which meant that the speed and momentum I needed to get up it was more speed than I was comfortable taking into the banked turn at the top. Aargh! Lack of confidence let me down on this one. This wasn't really as difficult as it seemed. Especially in hindsight.
3. This is a silly little turn at the top of a grassy bank. On the 2-lap recce I walked over this blasted hump, Beelzebub's zit! Then I came off on it when I attempted to ride around it on the first lap of the race. After that, it took me a few laps to attempt riding around it again but I made it! Next time 'round there were faster riders passing me so I bailed and never did ride all the way around it again.
This course really laid bare one of my worst weaknesses: an inability to unclip and set down my right foot. I am extremely strongly "handed". I first discovered this when I learned to snowboard a number of years ago. The first thing you have to do when taking up any sideways-sliding sport - snowboarding, skateboarding, wakeboarding - is decide which foot is in front when you normally ride. I knew immediately that I was "goofy", that is, I ride right foot forward. No doubt about it. To have my left foot leading just feels wrong. I've even subsequently noticed that when I have to stand sideways on the tube or a bus or train I am always uncomfortable if I'm not able to stand so that my right foot is forward to the direction of travel.
Whenever I need to put a foot down off the bike, I always only unclip my left. This is a problem when I've ground to a halt on steeply-banked left turn. Twice I ended up falling down a hill - well, just a grassy bank actually, luckily.
How can I train myself out of this?
Well, just do it, you might say. Easier said than done, though. If I try it during my morning commute I'm liable to fall over onto a stopped car. That's actually probably safer than trying it somewhere in the open where I'd otherwise fall right over on to the ground. But the embarrassment of falling over in front of all those smug car drivers, not to mention all the other bike commuters - oh, it doesn't bear thinking about! I never get a chance to "train" for cyclocross. But then, I didn't start out thinking of these races as races in and of themselves; they're all just training - bike handling, confidence building, thigh-burning effort - for "proper" riding on the road next year. Aren't they?
Sunday, September 23, 2007
Thursday, September 20, 2007
London Cyclocross League 1
I didn't crash and I didn't come last! - A great result from my first ever cyclocross race. (Although it was touch and go on both counts at times.)
A very civilised 13:00 start time meant I was able to have a lie-in and a leisurely cup of coffee before realising that I had to shift if I wasn't going to miss the last possible train that would get me to the race venue on time. As I sat studying my scrap of Googlemaps trying to memorise the chain of streetnames that would lead me from Rochester station to Temple School, Strood, another cyclist boarded the carriage and asked did I mind if he secured his bike next to mine. "It looks like you're going to Strood, too," I said. "You'll want to steer well-clear of me - it's my first ever cross race!" We exchanged a bit of chat and then he went off to find a seat. It took me a few minutes to realise who I'd been talking to. There was something familiar, not about him, but about his bike - an Indy Fab Planet X in baby blue and chocolate brown with pipe lagging duct-taped to the top and seat tubes for comfortable shouldering. Aha! It was Matt Seaton - one of the UK's foremost writers on cycling.
He was good company for the short ride from the station to the race venue, and it was nice to be absolved from navigatorial responsibilities even though he wasn't much cop as a guide. Up Frindsbury Road I clung to his wheel, too breathless to point out that we'd missed the turn we wanted until it levelled off and, to my horror, instead of turning around and going back down the way we'd come, he turned left up something-or-other Hill Road and we entered an Escher-esque landscape of streets that only went up! By the time we got to Temple School, my thighs were burning with lactic acid and I made a mental note to slip a Salbutamol inhaler in my saddle pack when I got home. Bah, it wasn't really that bad - a good warm-up actually.
I had a nervous natter with most of the other 6 or 7 'Mos at the race, signed-on, and rode 2 slow laps to recce the course. It was a warm, dry day and the wide, flat, grassy sections of the course were blessedly easy. But if the easy sections were easier than I'd expected, the difficult bits were more difficult.
1. A narrow section of switchbanks. On only 2 of my 10 laps did I manage to steer through here without unclipping. The only way to do it, I decided, after watching many more-skilled riders negotiate it, was to let the bike slide out around the corners. Hmm. I haven't yet got my head 'round the concept of doing that on purpose.
2. 2 planks on a gentle uphill. The race winner, Glider Boxercross-rider Darren Barclay effortlessly bunny-hopped over these. I, on the other hand, had to inelegantly stop, get off the bike, carry it over the tiddly barriers and remount - usually pausing in awe to watch more-skilled riders managing the same sequence of actions in a much more flowing manner. In this photo, I'm even taking the time to chat to a clubmate, optimistically asking whether, as he passed me, he was off the front of the race. No, turns out he'd had a puncture just at the start and was catching up from behind.
3. A very sharp off-camber turn between a tree and a bench that seemed to change every lap as the tape was frequently ripped, blown off, and re-attached in different spots. Joking with some of the others after the race, we proposed that this could actually become the purposeful work of the race organisers in a new-format magical mystery maze cross race - move the markers to create a different path every lap!
The results? I ended up 62nd out of 64, and 3rd out of 4 female finishers. It can only get better.
This weekend's race is at Hillingdon where I've done a few circuit races in the Quest Women's Series in the last two years. I think the course will be more technical (and more muddy if the current forecast for the weekend is correct) but at least I know the way.
A very civilised 13:00 start time meant I was able to have a lie-in and a leisurely cup of coffee before realising that I had to shift if I wasn't going to miss the last possible train that would get me to the race venue on time. As I sat studying my scrap of Googlemaps trying to memorise the chain of streetnames that would lead me from Rochester station to Temple School, Strood, another cyclist boarded the carriage and asked did I mind if he secured his bike next to mine. "It looks like you're going to Strood, too," I said. "You'll want to steer well-clear of me - it's my first ever cross race!" We exchanged a bit of chat and then he went off to find a seat. It took me a few minutes to realise who I'd been talking to. There was something familiar, not about him, but about his bike - an Indy Fab Planet X in baby blue and chocolate brown with pipe lagging duct-taped to the top and seat tubes for comfortable shouldering. Aha! It was Matt Seaton - one of the UK's foremost writers on cycling.
He was good company for the short ride from the station to the race venue, and it was nice to be absolved from navigatorial responsibilities even though he wasn't much cop as a guide. Up Frindsbury Road I clung to his wheel, too breathless to point out that we'd missed the turn we wanted until it levelled off and, to my horror, instead of turning around and going back down the way we'd come, he turned left up something-or-other Hill Road and we entered an Escher-esque landscape of streets that only went up! By the time we got to Temple School, my thighs were burning with lactic acid and I made a mental note to slip a Salbutamol inhaler in my saddle pack when I got home. Bah, it wasn't really that bad - a good warm-up actually.
I had a nervous natter with most of the other 6 or 7 'Mos at the race, signed-on, and rode 2 slow laps to recce the course. It was a warm, dry day and the wide, flat, grassy sections of the course were blessedly easy. But if the easy sections were easier than I'd expected, the difficult bits were more difficult.
1. A narrow section of switchbanks. On only 2 of my 10 laps did I manage to steer through here without unclipping. The only way to do it, I decided, after watching many more-skilled riders negotiate it, was to let the bike slide out around the corners. Hmm. I haven't yet got my head 'round the concept of doing that on purpose.
2. 2 planks on a gentle uphill. The race winner, Glider Boxercross-rider Darren Barclay effortlessly bunny-hopped over these. I, on the other hand, had to inelegantly stop, get off the bike, carry it over the tiddly barriers and remount - usually pausing in awe to watch more-skilled riders managing the same sequence of actions in a much more flowing manner. In this photo, I'm even taking the time to chat to a clubmate, optimistically asking whether, as he passed me, he was off the front of the race. No, turns out he'd had a puncture just at the start and was catching up from behind.
3. A very sharp off-camber turn between a tree and a bench that seemed to change every lap as the tape was frequently ripped, blown off, and re-attached in different spots. Joking with some of the others after the race, we proposed that this could actually become the purposeful work of the race organisers in a new-format magical mystery maze cross race - move the markers to create a different path every lap!
The results? I ended up 62nd out of 64, and 3rd out of 4 female finishers. It can only get better.
This weekend's race is at Hillingdon where I've done a few circuit races in the Quest Women's Series in the last two years. I think the course will be more technical (and more muddy if the current forecast for the weekend is correct) but at least I know the way.
Saturday, September 8, 2007
Firsts!
No, not race results! I rode off-road for the very first time ever last weekend!
Last year I bought a little steel cross frame, put mudguards on it and put it into service as a winter training bike. (Since it weighs about 2kg more than my racing bike, and had 25mm tyres, I christened it Jan - my big, fat, winter bike.) Now I've taken the mudguards off and put even bigger, fatter, knobbly tyres on and am determined to have a go at the London Cyclocross League races this winter.
Up at the shop, Tony's going to have a go for the first time, too (although he's already pretty handy off-road, being a regular competitor at singlespeed MTB races) and Jules is resurrecting what I suspect was a pretty glorious career in the mud. When one of the members of my cycling club offered to lead a Cyclocross skills session last Saturday, about a dozen of us turned up. It seems everyone is going cross crazy this year!
If you're now asking yourself, "What on earth is cyclocross?", have a look here.
If it doesn't kill me, it'll do my bike-handling a world of good. And it's given me a great excuse to get a sexy new pair of wheels! They won't be delivered for about 3 weeks yet, so I won't say any more until they arrive - first race is this weekend and I'm worried that my cross career might be over before I even get to the all-the-gear-no-idea phase.
I'm frightened, but I reckon that lots of people less fit and able than I am manage to do it, so I should be able to, too. We'll see soon enough, eh?
Last year I bought a little steel cross frame, put mudguards on it and put it into service as a winter training bike. (Since it weighs about 2kg more than my racing bike, and had 25mm tyres, I christened it Jan - my big, fat, winter bike.) Now I've taken the mudguards off and put even bigger, fatter, knobbly tyres on and am determined to have a go at the London Cyclocross League races this winter.
Up at the shop, Tony's going to have a go for the first time, too (although he's already pretty handy off-road, being a regular competitor at singlespeed MTB races) and Jules is resurrecting what I suspect was a pretty glorious career in the mud. When one of the members of my cycling club offered to lead a Cyclocross skills session last Saturday, about a dozen of us turned up. It seems everyone is going cross crazy this year!
If you're now asking yourself, "What on earth is cyclocross?", have a look here.
If it doesn't kill me, it'll do my bike-handling a world of good. And it's given me a great excuse to get a sexy new pair of wheels! They won't be delivered for about 3 weeks yet, so I won't say any more until they arrive - first race is this weekend and I'm worried that my cross career might be over before I even get to the all-the-gear-no-idea phase.
I'm frightened, but I reckon that lots of people less fit and able than I am manage to do it, so I should be able to, too. We'll see soon enough, eh?
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