Barton Park aftermath.

Bear looks on as the last of my soil sample from Barton Park washes down the drain.

We finally had some real real real cyclocross weather. Last year the race at Barton Park was sunny and dry. Temps in the mid-60's. This year the weather decided to come back from vacation and let us have it. The temps were in the 50's and it was raining-- perfect. The course was classic Barton-- goopy mud, concrete barriers of doom, dooooooom! Rain and big puddles. Lycra does a gread job of filtering all the mud out of the water and keeping it on the inside. Upon extricating myself from a mucky pair of bibs, I laughed to discover gobs and gobs of mud in my crotch!

I raced my singlespeed and got schooled again. If I didn't like cyclocross so much I'd take this as a sign that I need to pack up a go home. Maybe take up something like bowling or golf. Or maybe watching football on TV.

I feel like I still need to fiddle with the gearing a little-- on flat sections I felt like I was maybe spinning out or at least at a point where I wasn't able to really accelerate any more.

I really see the appeal of singlespeeds now. There's no wondering if you have another gear left or whether or not you're in the optimum gear. You have one and you go. If you can't, you get off and run. Or you soft-pedal or just coast.

Over the past few months my singlespeed "klunker" has been evolving. First it was just a klunker-- re-fitted with just the parts to get its rusty, neglected hulk rolling. Then it was tarted up a bit to use as a errand bike and to tow the trailer-bike. Then I switched to a drop bar as some sort of lark. ("Johnny T" my foot! Conventional drops are horrible off-road!) When I got another Midge handlebar and mounted it up, this bike really changed from the ugly duckling into the swan. (Well, maybe not quite yet...) Now I want to get it powder-coated. A nice red I think, sometime this winter or early next spring. I'm already having a hard time deciding on which bike to take to the races.

The weather continues to be rainy rainy rainy which bodes well for next week's race at the Washington Co. fairgrounds. That's a new venue and I'm excited to see that the Cross Crusaders have in store for us.

A cyclocross Halloween!

This past weekend was the Halloween race. Two days of cross fun in the sun in fabulous Astoria, Oregon (Goonies!). The weather was awesome for dragging the family along. I normally like my cross weather cold and soggy, but that sort of weather is not so fun for the family to stand around in. It's no fun wearing a costume in that sort of crummy weather, either.

Since we were going to be staying the weekend I decided to make a super-fun maxi-cross-blowout and race both the Master B ANNNNNNNND the singlespeed categories. Two races each day, one right after another, for 90 minutes of hypoxic, anerobic joy. Each day.

I went into the weekend realizing that there was no way I could actually "race" in my usual category and have any fun the remainder of the weekend. I'd be thrashed and hatin' life. No attitude to have on a family weekend at the coast OR on a bike.

My results reflected my strategy! I came in DFL in the SS category on day one and third up from the bottom in SS on day two-- the costume day. I can only attribute this to the fact that there must have been two other riders that were hungover and wearing full-on gorilla suits or something to have done worse than me!

Day two, the costume race, was a blast. I was already a little spent from day one and decided to focus entirely on having fun. Strategy: Rather than a 45 minute race, it was a 45 minute, short course costume parade! We were the Star Wars family that weekend. My son was a Clone Trooper, my wife was Princess Leia (she rolled her own hair up into "star puffs") and I wore a kid's Boba Fett costume. We had to separate the body suit at the waist seam so I could actually get it on. My midriff showed and made me feel a bit like "Bubba Fett". Ha!

Just a couple of days before the race I hadn't settled on a costume-- first I was going to be Chowder (from the eponymous cartoon), then Flapjack (he of the "Marvelous Misadventures of...") . On Wednesday night we were at a party supply store looking at costume stuff -- I was hoping to find a little sailor's hat to kick-start my Flapjack costume -- when my wife spotted an inflatable Boba Fett jet pack. My inner nerd-child went all a-squee over this. My costume fate was sealed! It was just a matter of finding the largest child's Boba Fett costume we could.

Thanks to Shane Young of Oregonvelo.com and HP Chiropractic for the free photos of the weekend!

There was a goup of about a dozen racers that all had Tron costumes. They were most excellent-- they had all hand-painted the colored "traces" on their bodysuits. They had set up on the back section of the course, reds on one side and blues on the other, and were having a disc battle across the course! Not a shark tank, but way more fun. (Apparently all the bodysuits were custom made! I had originally thought they were from a dance supply or something.)

On my third lap through the disc gauntlet Boba Fett decided it was time to dismount and put some Mandalorian-style hurt on the rogue programs. Jumping around and aiming my wrist-mounted flame-thrower and snare-projectors I was able to sow some consternation and confusion among the ranks. Oh, they can dish out the disc abuse to un-costumed racers, but they were unprepared for a little Mandalorian smackdown. They rallied quickly and I was soon forced to retreat. Unfortunately a "wardrobe malfunction" delayed my departure and I was quickly set upon by the Tron guys...

As I was pulling away one of the Tron discs found its mark, striking me squarely in the head. Momentarily stunned, the back of my pants got hung up on the nose of the saddle. Two of the Tron guys were attempting to get me going again. "C'mon Boba, get your shit together!" My pants were pulled back up, I was pushed off and one of them stuffed some candy down the neck of my shirt. A couple of wobbles and the rockets gave a feeble blast and I was off. I was in a curious state: I was laughing my butt off, but because I was already winded I couldn't do much more than gasp.

On the back side of the course there was the dreaded six-pack of barriers. Followed by an increasingly unpleasant uphill. Fortunately Boba Fett had a cheering section-- thanks guys! You helped pull me up that damn hill.

After the Master B race I only had a few minutes to scarf a few Clif bloks and chug some water. I was already ravenous and thirsty. Another 45 minutes on the singlespeed and my stomach would be chasing my liver around my insides. I was hungry! I don't think I've mentioned it yet, but the folks that ride singlespeed are incredible. They can seriously drop the hammer on riders with geared bikes. I found it pleasantly uncomplicated. Just ride. (Although I'm using a chain tensioner and have too much slack so the chain kept bouncing off on the rougher sections of the course.)

I was already in the red zone half-way through the first lap. I didn't even bother attempting the hill after the six-pack. The Boba Fett Cheer Squad was still there and seemed a little surprised that Mr. Fett was back. For all but the very last climb they kept Fett jogging up the hill. By the last lap, my legs were cramping badly enough that I was forced to walk-- which was even more painful.

I have never been so hungry as I was after that race. I was trembling and if I let myself sit down there was no way I was going to want to get up for a couple of hours. The fries and hashbrowns from the fries vendor were ambrosia. And the cold TurkeyBLT sandwich waiting for me back in the car was the best tasting sandwich -- best tasting food! -- I've ever had. If it had been delivered on a beam of sunlight from the heavens there's no way it could have tasted better. I think I ate and drank during the entire two-hour drive back home. And I was still hungry!

Right after the SS race was the Kiddie race. My son really seems to be getting into these races this year. It's too bad that the kids only get to do one lap-- my son is primed for many more and always keeps going for an additional 2 or three laps. If there hadn't been another race I don't think we would have been able to get him off the course! He also seems to have developed his own, very smooth, dismount proceedure. In fact, several spectators nearby were saying things like "Wow-- look at that little kid go! Has he been practicing?" and "Hey! Somebody's learning!". His remounts are very good too-- I think smoother than mine! Really!



It was an awesome weekend-- great weather and loads of fun. Perfect.


Again, thanks to Shane Young of Oregonvelo.com and HP Chiropractic for the free photos of the weekend!

Pain on the Peak... truth in advertising!

A fabulously sunny Saturday in September. Kind of hot, even. This was the first edition of Portland Velo's "Pain on the Peak" cyclocross race on Bald Peak in Hillsboro (Oregon).

Fantastic views all around.

My wife and son came out too-- the boy was stoked for racing and his skills have improved greatly this summer! Riding off-road is now wayyyy more fun and far less frustrating for him. Which is good.

Overall it was a fun race, and a great venue. It would have been super-rad with a little moisture, but hey-- I'll take what I can get.

Let's do a little post-race analysis:
First I load up on Nutella slathered (gluten-free) waffles a mere hour before the event. Mmmm. Oh yeah. Good stuff.

I drank one cup of water and two or so cups of tea with breakfast and a final sip of water pre-race. (When I got home and took a whiz, it looked like orange juice. Whoops! I guess I was just a teensy bit dehydrated. I wonder why? I drank like a fish the rest of the day.)

Warm-up? That's what the first lap is for.

After the first lap I feel like vomiting up my waffles. However, given how precious Nutella is to me, there is NO WAY I'm letting those go. So they keep insisting to be let free for most of the rest of the race. I also have zero go-power. Doubtless a result of the massive carbo-bomb that my gut is dealing with. My legs just have nothing to give. Zip.

So sad and pathetic.

I'm also being treated by my chiropracter for a wacky neck. So every little bump on the course I can feel amplified in my shoulder and neck. I feel better if I keep my head down so that just adds to my overall whupped appearance to spectators (and contributes to my hang-dog feeling... I suck.)

Going into the race I didn't feel especially competitive. Indeed, that morning I felt really out-of-sorts. Like this was my first race ever and I had no idea what I was doing. Bleah.



The dust was epic. Ankle deep and powdery in places. Incredible stuff. There were points where I couldn't see the gound in front of me-- I had to look way up and follow the crowd of helmets-- everything else was obscured by the billowing brown clouds! Breathing was kinda like squeezing a bottle of baby powder into your gob. Hack!

My son had fun and did quite well-- he was obviously pushing hard and didn't whine even once! (He's five.) Well... he did complain that the race was too short and wondered why he didn't get another race. (The adults were still racing... why couldn't he?) So I took that as a good sign. He's really liking the bike-- definitely a good thing. The announcer pulled my son aside and tried asking him about his race-- did he like it? Did he have fun? Did he get dirty? That sort of thing. My son got stage fright or something and only answered "yes" and "sure" and "uh huh".

In the end it was a fun time. The organizers (Portland Velo) did a great job of putting on a class-A event. the OBRA folks also have my undying admiration for all their work providing the "glue" that makes all this stuff hold together. Oregon is an awesome place to ride and race bikes! I look forward to next year's race!

Unfortunately I eventually had to wash of my dirt tattoo. I called it my "Pain on the Peak tat".