Digital Storytime - Minuteman Cx Race Report
Once upon a time there was a tradition of Race Reports — basically a little digital storytime where someone who raced would write up a tale of their experience in whatever format, length, and voice best suited them. Subject really doesn't matter. Sometimes tactics are discussed, other times it's just what the experience overall was like, what you overcame, what you experienced. They're super fun to read, and often a fun way of keeping up with people that you may not get to ride with.
I raced CX this weekend at Minuteman and thought hey, maybe this can get us started again. Watch this space for more race reports to come, especially when the ECCC CX season gets underway. I figure if Harvard Cycling is going to be paying for our race fees (a benefit of joining as a racing member!), you might as well get the benefit of the entertainment.
So a little background: I'm a 4th year HMS student who last raced for Harvard Cycling 5 years ago when it was still known as HUCA, derailleurs maxed out at 11 speeds, road tubeless tires were a death wish, and Sam Melton still emailed the list. I took a few years off between finishing my PhD and coming back to med school, during which I tried the running thing. But I was consistently grumpy (my partner let me know), so finally dusted off my bikes in mid-2020 and began riding consistently again. And I am much happier. My previous racing identity was as a middling but enthusiastic racer, but now as a "Racing Age 34" year old male, I thought I was surely running uphill to catch the fitness bus.
But with freedom from my clinical clerkships and the prospect of one last glorious CX season for Harvard Cycling in sight, in June I started training in earnest. This is the story of my first race back and the start to my CX season. My race reports tend to be lengthy, so here goes:
5:30am: being a med student has some perks: at least you're not afraid of early wake-ups. Yesterday I was unexpectedly anxious about race day, so I wake up to my kit neatly draped over every single chair in the dining room. I get dressed while mainlining water and coffee. The pre-race poop was unsatisfactory, alas.
5:45am: I wiggle into my kit and eat breakfast. Some forum online suggested that eating oatmeal 3 hours before racing was a great source of long acting carbs without having a full belly. This sounds wise. I eat oatmeal. My belly is too full. Hmmmm.
6:25am: I start the hour long drive out to Lancaster, MA. It is cloudy and damp, but not cold. I listen to some genetics podcasts because that is what I do for fun now.
7:30am: I pull into the grassy lot full of fancy CX bikes. Man, juniors are intimidating — one dadcoach had his two junior cyclists with their Wahoo KICKRs plugged into an outlet powered by his car, doing warm up drills. I don't think he realized that they were both set up right next to exhaust of his mega SUV.
7:50am: I grab my number and awkwardly attempt to pin numbers on myself. Man, I miss having teammates. I look around and am not sure of the COVID etiquette of touching other dudes in spandex to put numbers on them. I fiddle with my own pins some more. After making 5 separate holes in my jersey, I manage to pin my number on in a way that isn't a parachute.
8:00am: pre-ride! So if you've read through all the commentary above, this is where race-specific info actually starts. A pre-ride is where you get to preview the course and figure out what's going on.
The course is an interesting one — a little bit of everything. One thing about CX that I've always enjoyed is trying to 'read' a course and understand the strategic places on the course. Things like are chokepoints where you want to be first to enter, places for conserving energy, and places for passing people.
One thing that I realize immediately is that the starting grid only goes for about 50 yards before curving into a steep, though rideable, uphill. After the uphill is immediately a set of downhill hairpin turns on slippery grass where people would be single file. What that means is that if you passed a bunch of people on the uphill, effectively they would have to stay behind you on the hairpins while you could recover.
I also noticed that there was not any tape marking off the course on the left hand side of the uphill, so even if you took a slightly longer line, you could be rewarded by passing a number of people.
Otherwise, there were many twists and turns, including one through a section of wood chips that was especially sketchy from the traction standpoint. It's never easy to know how you or your bike will handle at race speeds vs. a preride. I adjust my tire pressures to go lower for more traction, but since I'm still running tubes I worry about pinch flatting. I adjust my tire pressure at least 2 more times before the race starts, nervously.
8:25am: the 40+ Cat4/5 gun goes off. Man, these guys are fast and folks to aspire to. I've usually always been the first race of the day, so I nervously ride around, not knowing what to do with this time, intermittently cheering people on, while trying to stay warmed up. Racers will know that feeling of just wanting to pee consistently in the minutes leading up to a race, even if your bladder has been recently emptied. I ride around a bit, try to simulate some race efforts, fiddle with tire pressures, and chug my pre-race espresso shots.
9:10am: the 40+ racers are done and I scramble onto the course to get one last pre-ride in. Lines in CX are constantly changing as they've been worn in by more and more racers. I don't feel especially good about my confidence in corners, especially now I'm more nervous, but thought it would be better to leave my time pressure untouched vs risk a DNF from a flat.
9:20am: Call ups. I had forgotten that since I haven't raced in ages, I'm deep. For those of you who are new to CX, know that you are lined up in the starting grid according to your recent results. We're racing with the juniors, so there's a total of 70+ in our field. I'm 60 something, second from the last row, a sea of people between me and the front half of the race. And I just described above how I thought the start would be important.
Here's a minor move that I did which probably got me 20 spots on the final results — when you get called up to the grid, it doesn't have to be in numerical order (particularly when you're in the nosebleed section like I am). I strategically line up on the left hand side of the course with no one to my left. My plan was that I would make sure as we hit the hill I could swing out to the left where there wasn't any tape and sprint to pass as many people as I could.
9:25am: In the seconds before the gun, there's an eerie silence. A few chirps come from wayward Garmins and Wahoos not paused. I look down at my heart rate — already 118. Man I had forgotten the jitters of racing.
Race: Then, we're off. When you're 2nd row from the back, it takes a few seconds before the wave of motion reaches you, so it's more of a gradual sprint and you have time to clip in, versus the typical CX start of clip in as fast as you can and GO. Slowly, gaps start opening up and I thread myself through them. I move up first one row, and then two rows. I'm hitting the first lefthand bend, pinned against the tape, and then... FREEDOM as everyone else follows the racing line left and see unobstructed grass in front of me. I shift and take a bunch of hard stomps on the pedals, cruising by at least a dozen people.
The first lap is just full gas mayhem. You're still in tight with many other riders, slamming on brakes in corners then sprinting out of them. So it's like 500 watts for 5 seconds, then zero. Rinse and repeat. You're trying to be aggressive while not overlapping wheels and getting caught on the wrong side of the tape one someone takes an inside line. You're not at all paying attention to the lactate building up in your legs since you're just going for it.
Whenever I race CX, at some point you're always like "goddamn this hurts. Why am I literally putting in so much effort for 25th place?" And you think about quitting. I mean, you are doing this for *fun* right? This is a hobby. That point for me came mid-way through the second lap; I came through the woodchip section too hot and completely lost my front wheel, crashed. I instantly sprang up, adrenaline coursing through my system, the course being too tight for more than 1-2 people to pass. My chain fell off, so I'm trying to pedal it back on, and lucky it slips right on. I'm starting to give chase to the people that I was once comfortably ahead of, but it feels like my rhythm was disrupted. And that's when I had the strongest urge to just quit.
After that initial crash my cornering mojo just felt off — whether I didn't trust my tire pressure, line choices, or otherwise weight placement, I felt like I consistently lost time in tight corners. I hit the deck 2 more times, but hey, since it's 10mph on dirt and not 30mph on pavement, minimal skin was lost.
The middle of a cyclocross race for mid-pack fodder like myself is always a mini-time trial. The faster people have gotten away, and your gap to the folks behind is reasonably stable that you're just riding against yourself. But it's also more interesting than just straight time-trialing. Each lap, the traction lines change a bit. Each lap, you think about what didn't go as well the last lap and what you could do differently. Each lap, you get a bit more tired, but a bit more wise to the course.
I look back and I have a pretty sizeable gap to two junior racers who are chatting up a storm, encouraging each other. So cute. But then on the 2nd to last lap, I take a tight corner badly, nearly hit a tree, come to a complete stop and suddenly what was once a comfortable 15 second gap has closed to a few bike lengths. The junior racer, even though he wouldn't be scored with me, senses blood in the water and starts hunting me down. On the last lap, he's neck and neck with me, we drag race on a straightaway up the final climb before a technical section — I know that if I can beat him there I can stay in front of him the whole way. I manage to take the inside to the corner and stay ahead of him to the finish. He collapses next to his bike and I don't think heard my kudos for him push me so hard.
The rest of the day isn't as exciting or as interesting: I'm cooked, but I'm happy at having raced. I don't look at the race results until I'm home, but then it was a pleasant surprise that I got 18/55 — considering that I lined up second to last row and didn't feel like I passed anyone during all of the mid-race, I think much of it just came from the burst at the start to pass people.
When I'm home, I look at my power data and it's really not that remarkable — but the way in which CX demands massive superthreshold efforts and then nothing again and again definitely is something that I need to work on being more comfortable with. That and cornering.
Winston, in Harvard Kit, behind the Empirical Cycling guy. Photo by Katie Busick.
And with that, to summarize:
Things that went well:
First race in a while: think I've found a good routine with oatmeal, caffeination
Start strategy worked out really well this time
Barriers, dismounts & remounts, all were surprisingly good
Things that could use work
Cornering at speed. Gotta get comfortable taking lines harder and knowing the limits of my traction
Related to the above, gotta figure out tire pressure — just bought a digital tire gauge for $30 bucks for that purpose.
"Putting more matches in the book" — being able to recover and repeat superthreshold efforts throughout the race.
If you've made it this far, thanks for reading. Hopefully you'll consider joining me at a CX race one of these days and consider writing one of these race reports too. And even if not, be well, ride safe, and keep the rubber side down.
-Winston "writes too much" Yan
