Kissena Cycling Club

So, the races up here were my third and fourth cross races ever. With a sweet new bike in my hands and an apartment big enough to house a bunch of sweaty, smelly, half-drunk 'cross racers, I figured I was looking at a pretty good weekend regardless of my own racing results. That's good - that the funnest type of bike racing is also located at the time of year when hey - I know it doesn't have to matter. I've been in better shape. I've weighed less and ridden harder and better. And faster. And soberer. It's okay. The weather even cooperated, giving us May-like weather, perfect for spending a weekend in a park with friends who brought beer. Goddamn, what a great sport! Is this what being a Belgian is like? Maybe I should be one. Can I buy a Belgian passport on eBay? No? What about Craigslist or Serotta forums?

Mattio develops a new way to, eh, we're not sure. Photo by Dave Trimble.

I lined up in the 3rd row, Alan Atwood pointing out the Kissena crew lining up in the cat 4 race - me and Al and William, all together. Dammit, I thought. Are they gonna kick my ass? I hope not. We made an agreement not to elbow each other in the hole shot, which was good, because I'm smaller than they are.

Mattio @ the start. Photo by Dave Trimble.

I got nervous at the starting line, but then the whistle blew and we were off. I was conservative with the sprint, unwilling to elbow my way into tight spaces, and the result was that I stayed thirty or thirtyfive riders back, and had to fight my way forward. Arrrr. Grrrr.

The course was excellent. A starting loop, a terrible sandpit bisected by a 180degree turn on grass, lots of fast grass (a generous matted-down line already worn into the frost), lots of tight turns, a scramble-up, a ride-up, a steep descent, an impossible rooted section, and a couple of long paved sections. I was miserable and hurting but strong enough to upshift and sprint on the pavement and on the wide grass, passing riders here and there. After half the race I was dueling with one or two other riders. They passed me on the section I was slow on (the roots, the barriers, the sand) and I went flying by them on the sections I was fast on (the big grass straightaways, the pavement); it eventually came down to a sprint and I opened up, passing them with a grrr and a roar. Good for something-teenth place in the combined 4/35+ field, but I was the 4th nonmaster. Not bad.

Mattio bombs it! Photo by Dave Trimble.

After wanting to die for a little bit, I went over to the Geekhouse Cycles team tent and was rewarded with a beer. And then another one. I can get into this sport. I spent the rest of the day lounging by the steep ride-up, hollering nonsense semi-positive heckling at everyone else.

Saturday night, me, Heidi G, Al, Michelle, William, Britlee, and a few others had an exhausted good time hanging out.

The next day, lining up in the 3rd row again; I was determined to have a better hole shot and, knowing my bike and the course better (despite some fun changes to the course between days), maybe even a better finish. It was a good plan: ride really fast. What could go wrong? I slotted in about ten wheels back off the hole shot and in the early minutes of the race, found myself with Al and my buddy Aaron in a lead group of six or seven with a big gap formed and opening fast.

Until: drama. Officials neglected to reconfigure the course after the reverse-direction opening loop and we, confused, plowed through a bunch of tape into two different tracks, yelling, "where do we go?" one official stood in the pit, saying something like, "right way! wrong way! up! fly! crap!" and, after finding myself on the wrong side of the tape as the course, had to duck back under and rejoin the charging field. from sixth to thirthysomethingth in a heartbeat.

so i anger-raced the rest of the race, scrabbling back up to something-teenth place again, once again yo-yoing back and forth with the same rider from the previous day (see a pattern here?), and a few others - one of whom passed me for the umpteenth time in the same corner on the elevated section. "blast!" i shouted, "that's the ninth time you've passed me in that corner!" "i love that corner," he replied, "and you think you would have learned by the eighth time." i guess if we were able to talk we were going too slow, but that conversation actually happened. When it came down to a sprint, i passed by him, but was boxed in by two others and couldn't catch Al, who was ahead of me. Someteenth overall, eighth nonmaster. Mediocre.

When I was sprinting, well, *that* was fun bike racing. I mean, so was the rest of it. I was just miserable, pained, and short of breath for it all. Despite the "yeah! yeah! yeah!" awesomeness of the first half of a cross race, the last half is all "no! no! no!" in pain and despair, struggling to hold position.

And so, spent and painful, i collapsed on the ground after the race, barely recovering enough to drink beers with the Geekhouse team and heckle/cheer the rest of the day's races in the same spot as the day before. Though my fitness and strength are as lacking as my ability to corner on grass, I can't wait for races in two weeks in cheshire, ct, and easthampton, mass. If anybody plans to race either of those, let me know.

Cross is cool. Britlee, Michelle, and Heidi Goodson raced really well. Dave August put in some good results out there, too. Al beat me one of the days. William had on his traditional red-faced mask of pain. And we all spent two really beautiful days in the sun in a park. What's not to love?

-mattio