Well I can’t claim to be a crash virgin anymore – during my first cyclocross race I clipped a tree with my front tire and went over the bars, luckily I broke the fall with my face. Never again will I doubt the efficacy of a good snug helmet.
Man what a scene cyclocross is – more like a medieval fair than a sporting event. I parked in Juanita and cranked up the hill to Big Finn Hill Park, it was a good warm-up and I showed up hot and ready to go. I was happy to see that Chad had come early to set up the Cucina Fresca tent; this was the first time I’d been at a race with an official team tent.
Funny how something that was started as a fun way to get through the shoulder season has taken off and become a sport in and of itself. I suppose it’s not all that funny – by funny I mean odd – I suppose a lot of sports are spawned by weird, wild wonderful happenstance.
The road races I participated in over the past four months were fairly clandestine affairs: you’d drive to some semi-secret location and ride over seldom used roadways – I suppose that’s the whole point – but this cyclocross was a real event – totally on the radar. Thow in a hog on a spit and some good grog and we would have had a real party. During most road races I was lucky to see one or two other teammates, today the Cucina Fresca squad was out in force with over twenty riders flying the colors. Riding with a team is a different sport than going solo and it was good to see some friendly faces, and speaking of friendly faces my friends Joe and Kris came to watch and cheer me on – nothing like a little friendly cowbell.
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